Chapter 2

Chang’an, or Eternal Peace, was the resplendent capital of the Empire. It was renamed such by Emperor Li Taizong, in the hopes that it could help stabilize the vast realm left by his mother, the Exalted Empress of the Heart Flames. Of course, as we all know, that was but a hopeless dream. Perhaps that is fitting, considering Chang An - with its beauty and its splendour - is the target of the world’s dreams and ambitions, most of which never came to fruition.

Now, the city itself is split into two by the Mother River, with the north being the Old Quarters and the south being the New Quarters. The latter was set up by the Exalted Emperor Shan Fuqiang (or Mokarra Almapolk), the Smith of Heaven and Earth, after his campaigns and subsequent coronation. This is the administrative heart of the empire. The Old Quarters is the centre of culture and academia, with its most important sites being the Hanlin Tower and the Imperial Palace. Though, it could be argued that food and pleasure are its primary attractions. …

The National Encyclopedia,

updated in 1578 SY

Outside, Elzorath stared at the Colosseum, a massive building of white marble standing in stark contrast with much of the surroundings. The establishment, if it should even be called that, was constructed by one of his great uncles, a man far too enamoured with the Western Continent. Elzorath supposed it was to his benefit, if only for its entertainment value. Other people clearly felt the same, seeing how copycats sprung up all around the Empire – though, none were its equal.

Streams of people poured out, their voices drowning out the faint, unpleasant sounds behind. His eyes were on the left, at a lane separated from the rest. With its vibrant (and expensive!) décor, it was reserved for the top caste: the Shining Clans. Of course, for such a prestigious group, who would bother with such crass entertainment. At least, that should have been the case.

A person was walking down the pathway. He walked without a care in the world, his nose upturned and his face flushed red. It was impressive, considering the man’s reputation with wine and the fact it was barely past midday. Clinging to his arms were two top-class courtesans, their swaying hips were as scandalous as always. The main character here was unworldly handsome – with his features, he could even be considered beautiful. For some, that would be an insult, especially for a man of his birth. The individual in question; however, took great pride in it – his painted lips and curled eyelashes were testaments to this attitude. Elzo-Rath knew first-hand the man’s “feminine” nature, in many ways an essential part of his identity.

This was his brother, the debauched Erondik.

A melodious, silky voice was his brother’s trademark. At times, he wondered what would have happened had his brother been female – would one of the royals have picked him up? Regardless of his thoughts, Erondik said, “You’re to enter the palace, they are looking for you. Don’t look so glum, it’s an overdue meeting, and I am not going to be understanding if you won’t elaborate. Will you?”

Elzorath kept his silence.

“Alright.” With a shrug, he continued, “Also, someone came looking for you. He called himself Erysichthon. Seems to be one of the dogs of Merit. You know him, correct?”

A friend from his school days… one he had kept sporadic contact with through letters. Some anticipation was there, certainly, but dread overwhelmed anything else. He wondered if he should just pretend ignorance – but no.

Seeing his reluctant nod, his brother too nodded. “I’ll tell him to wait for you in the household. Your main one. Alright, get going. In a day or two, I have a surprise prepared.”

“If it’s a surprise, shouldn’t you keep it from me?”

“Eh, maybe.” With a wave of his fan, the man was gone. Seeing where he was headed (his home) and the women in his arms, Elzorath was clear about his brother’s plans. He was well aware of Endo-Shi’s daily routine without even trying, or wanting.

Elzorath once again envied his brother’s confidence – mostly unfounded confidence. He felt so far too often for his liking.

Regardless, he had a place to be and a person to meet. Even if he dreaded the former with all his being. Even if he had wasted half a year of his life away in vain to avoid this very moment. He had hoped that his incompetence would aid him. He had hoped that these six months would provide time for reconsideration.

Of course, he knew it would ultimately be unsuccessful. He had known that from the very start.

Regardless, he had held onto the hope; latched onto it like the drowning man he was. The same disdain he held for those worthless fighters might as well apply to himself.

A long sigh later, Elzorath realized he had reached the Imperial Palace. First was a large moat, around twenty meters wide. The water was tranquil and clear, the surface a perfect reflection of the eternal blue sky. On both sides were plum blossoms, their bright pink flowers as charming as ever. Their beauty was reflected in the water; he was once again reminded of his love for mirrorlike aesthetics.

Breathing in the smell of wood and the late winter air, Elzo-Rath walked to the bridge. The construct was made of dark wood, with golden plated dragons serving as railings. The bridge and the surroundings as a whole were relatively free of people. Free of noise and interruptions. The few that were around were luxurious carriages bearing symbols of power, and the Embroidered Guards. The latter was an exclusively female group tasked with royal protection. That said, their main role was merely to guard the palaces, rather than protect the royals outside.

Elzorath greeted the captain of the guards in charge of this bridge and entry to the Imperial Palace. With one look, she let him through without a word. They were quite familiar with one another. Although, “familiar” was a bit of a stretch. He did not know her name or her face.

Her outfit was, to put it lightly, extravagant. Made with Glittering Silk from the Empire’s Northeast, it had five layers, each as intricate as a top-class courtesan’s robe. While the final layer (not accounting for inner garments) was compact, allowing for movement and combat, the same could not be said for the rest. The silk flowed like fluffy clouds, its colours and patterns melding together to form a masterful piece of art. The other guards did not possess such luxurious clothing, but even theirs were better than that of most of the capital’s decadent nobility.

Had it not been for their signature spider embroidered onto their outfits, he might have assumed they were innocent ladies playing amongst the golden trees. His face twitched ever so slightly, whenever one of those spiders moved about, its spindly limbs flailing about.

And of course, the fact that the captain was two full realms above him also helped. The rest were around the peak of the First Floor – an elite unit even in the capital. Moreover, the gaudy dresses could not hide their muscle-bound physique. Only the captain before him could be considered a traditional beauty with her “frail” arms and “jade” skin. As for her face, it was covered under a white veil, which obscured everything, including her eyes, despite its thinness.

Some would consider them weak, more of a joke than an actual effective force. They were also known to perform needlework – the reason for the name. The six captains were responsible not only for their battle garments but also for the garments of the royals. As such, it was not too surprising that people might doubt their strength.

The ignorant always make assumptions.

Elzo-Rath had seen this captain in action, her long needles making short work of a group of warriors. He had seen her dainty form pull over those men, seen her arms directly crush their necks. Her robes blocked their desperate attacks, and subsequently strangled and wrung out their souls.

While he certainly felt reassured knowing the palace was in good hands, he could not help but feel jittery in their presence. In the presence of anyone with power, realistically speaking. He could be killed in an instant, and nothing could be done. There would be repercussions, sure, but why would that matter to a dead man. The fact that the further one breaks through, the less sane they appeared, did little to dissuade his fears.

His mind was wandering. His thoughts were running like prey in the face of a predator. He shook his head, shaking away those stray thoughts. Not that doing so ever worked.

He passed through the bridge, ignoring the look of pity that rested on his shoulders. He wished that the veil would also prevent such sentiment from coming through.

Elzo-Rath looked at the magnificent gate in front, a building of grey, red, and gold. All the buildings here bore such colours. These complexes were the foremost symbols of orthodox Han architecture; their crimson roofs curved gracefully, their round tiles shining like diamonds under the Sun. Engravings covered the walls and roofs, showing flying phoenixes and coiling dragons, bloodied soldiers and magnificent monarchs.

The Palaces were over ten centuries old, constructed even before the reign of the Empress of the Heart Flames. It was the only part of the Empire, including Chang’an, which stood tall throughout the years, that weathered the disasters with not a single scratch. It even increased in beauty and splendour, its rulers expanding upon the palaces with their artwork, construction, and whatever pleasures the royalty of past centuries had indulged in.

Despite his slight disgust, it was hard not to marvel at the immense beauty of the place. Knowing that some of what he saw was commissioned by the Empress of the Heart Flames herself, he could not avert his eyes. He had come here more than ten times, and yet, every time he still looked like a country bumpkin.

The closer he got to the gates, the grander everything appeared. Yet, for all its grandeur, now it was but an empty husk. Considering the situation of the Li of the past and the Shan of the present, that might be somewhat fitting.

He passed through doors after doors, hallways after hallways, and guards after guards. For the latter, he had to provide his badge. After the third hallway, he started wearing a silver mask covering his entire face. It was a special piece, with simple yet elegant markings. Despite having no openings, he could breathe and look fine; it was a marvel of enchantment. Regardless, this mark definitely was certainly not worth the cost. Not the money - it was completely free. But his elevated position had come at the expense of… everything.

From here, the palaces were rather desolate. The guards were still patrolling, but none of the servants was around. Not that the place was not clean; though he knew not the cleaners. Maybe some spirits, maybe the very guards that patrolled these revered halls.

Once, these palaces must have been bustling with life. It was not even that long ago – just around three decades before. The Emperor, His wives and concubines, the princes and princesses; all would have lived here. It went without saying that their eunuchs and maids would also live here and serve. That had been the reason for its size. Yet, now, the outer courts housed just a few imperial concubines, while the inner palaces were left without inhabitants. Obviously, they were still kept in good shape for the Emperor and any royal, though he doubted any one of them had lived here in the last decade.

With every step, he felt the weight on his shoulders increase. Every fibre of his being screamed at him to turn back, that it was not too late, that he could escape everything with just a thought. But no… he could not. So, he ignored his own throbbing heart and stepped forward.

Elzo-Rath finally slogged to his intended destination. The two guards, both bearing iron masks, let him through after confirming his badge. The chamber he entered was rather small, all things considered. It was not its size that stood out, but rather its décor, or rather, the lack thereof. The emptiness stood in stark contrast with everything he had seen, but he liked it. Extravagance became sore to the eyes after a while, though, maybe it was his eyes that were the problem. Erondik had certainly thought so upon hearing such comments.

The centrepiece of the room was an upside-down tree, made with unremarkable black stone. The thin roots swirled to form a sphere holding a shining green crystal. The light was subdued, but the power was not. It called to him, asked him to reach it, and commanded him to touch it. He did not resist. His legs moved, his arms raised, and his eyes were glued to its sharp edges. He grasped the crystal with both his arms and a second later, he was nowhere to be seen.

The guards did not react in the slightest. In well-practised movements, they made the black roots tighten, subduing the crystal even further. Even as Second Floor practitioners and even with full-bodied outfits that covered just about everything, the strain could be clearly seen from their expanded muscles and heavy huffs.

Once done, they walked out.

The door closed tightly with a soft click.

And once again, silence reigned in the small room.