Lian sat behind her table – well ordered and with the applicable tomes atop – facing the entryway, her hands clasped on top of the table and her face set in the calm and attentive mode she reserved for trials and combat. Her translator stood at the door and opened it at her command, as the first of the two families entered to present its case.

Five days she had studied the texts and worked with the translators to build an understanding of the legal precedent. Five evenings she had eaten and traded combat techniques with Ida. At night she slept in the happy exhaustion of a hard day’s work.

Over the five days she had pieced together the basic shape of the law. Under the reign of his father, and at the age of six, the King had been betrothed to a daughter of one of the smaller Clans, who was herself only two years old. They were to marry on his twentieth birthday, which was considered late for such an important position, but necessary given the level of education the King was set to receive. The original Clan’s name was Korosura, and they owned land to the far northwest corner of Wamai – a small strip of land rich in both farming and fishing rights. As seemed to be the Wamaian way however, the Korosura lands were engulfed in war, their clan completely defeated and their land confiscated, by the Suru Clan.

“The honorable Lady Kaoru and Lord Tokugawa of Clan Suru,” her translator announced as the man who had stood before the King in red armor and pained face walked through the archway and made his way towards Lian. At his side was a small, plump woman in an elegant dress, also the rich red of the Suru Clan.

One of Wamai’s oldest laws clearly stipulated that the property acquired through warfare was the legal right of the victor. In this case, the marriage agreement could be considered property, and the victorious Suru clan inherited the right to marry the King when they defeated the Korosura. This was the case Lian expected Kaoru to present.

“My lady,” Lian greeted her from behind the table with a slight nod of the head. Lian had been coached in the expected customs in the five days.

“My…lady…judge.” Kaoru responded in a sweet, soft, and melodious voice, accompanied by the appropriate bow. Her awkwardness came from the fact that there was no appropriate word for female judges in Wamaian.

“Please, my lady, present your case,” Lian said in Imperial, prompting the interpreter to step in and begin the proceedings.

A longstanding tenet of marriage disputes was that the women to be married always presented their own cases. Lian had not been surprised to find Wamaian law held women just slightly above property in most cases, and the role they played in court proceedings was minimal except for the fruits of matrimony: the marriage, the divorce, and the children. Lian knew Lady Kaoru would have been coached in every detail of what to say that day, to a fault. The words would not be Kaoru’s at all, but those of her uncle: Tokugawa. Normally Lian would cut out the middleman and deal directly with the Clan patriarch, but she was playing the Wamaian’s game, and had been warned repeatedly about breaking the formal procedures set out for this kind of case.

“My lady judge. A thousand graces on you and your family. I am here today to assert my and my family’s true claim to the right of marriage with our illustrious King Hojo. Sixteen years ago, Clan Suru brought justice and stability to the lands formerly owned by the Clan Korosura…”

The Korosura lands’ troubles were not finished after the Suru clan invaded however. Later, after Suru had grown and conquered other Clans, they had lost the Korosura lands in a short war with the Odo Clan. Which meant that the Odo could claim that the original agreement for the hand of the King was made with the land, and that Odo should claim it, rightfully owning the land as they did. The contract for the betrothal was simplistic, and written in personal terms between the then-prince and his future wife. The tie to the land, however, was generally understood to be implied, albeit not expressly stated in any of the Wamaian legal texts.

“…and as I’m sure your honor can see, the Suru family is Wamai’s most prosperous and prestigious. If there is a family more fitting of a marriage with our glorious King, I would freely admit it, however…”

Lian listened, but found it difficult to pay attention to Lady Kaoru’s lilting, gentle tone, which seemed to invite her into distraction. Her focus was further disturbed by the knowledge that Tokugawa, in full armor and regalia, stared at Lian the entire time. Halfway through Kaoru’s opening monologue Lian began to feel an acute awareness of her sword’s placement halfway across the room, by her bed. She kept her vision on Kaoru, but her other senses were finely attuned to Tokugawa’s complete immobility. She wasn’t even sure he blinked.

“I see,” Lian said through the interpreter after Kaoru had finished. “And what evidence do you have to support your claims to the marriage contract?”

Kaoru bowed again and unfolded the many hems of her dress to reveal a fat, tiny hand which clutched a tied scroll. “The original copy of the contract itself,” she smiled, “taken from the castle of the Korosura when my glorious uncle claimed it for his own.” She presented the scroll with a bowed head. The interpreter took it and placed it in Lian’s hand.

In Wamai, contracts were a sacred thing. Written records of money exchanged for future goods and services went back even further than the oldest records in the Empire. Scrawled on stone and carved into wood that was then petrified, the legal tomes Lian had read were filled with analysis and interpretations of contracts. But one thing they were in agreement on was that the holder of a contract was always in the best position to collect. Kaoru’s smile was that of a warrior delivering a fatal blow early in a battle.

Then a flourish of movement and Kaoru produced another document from somewhere in her robes, with another fabled history concerning its source. Then another. And another. Lian’s desk filled with paper treasures and heirloom trinkets, each one with some tenuous connection to either the King or the Korosura clan. A piece of the Korosura’s daughter’s supposed dowry. A portrait of the King as a young child supposedly delivered to the Korosura clan to inform the young woman who she would be marrying. None of it mattering beyond the performance: the display of the things with the flapping of her dress and the way she held them out with both hands for the interpreter to pick up and move from those hands to the table. Lian grew tired of it and stopped listening, even as her face remained placid and attentive.

“And how will you serve the King if you are confirmed as his bride to be?” Lian asked the final of the questions she knew Kaoru Suru would have been prepared for. She didn’t even listen to the answer. She kept Tokugawa in her peripheral vision, all her attention lavished upon him and his own unwavering return of the attention.

“Tell me, Miss Kaoru, do you love the King?” Lian asked in Wamaian.

Finished with formality, she moved to put the Suru clan on the defensive. And she knew it worked, if only because the girl’s uncle actually moved, a slight rustle in his shoulders and his eyes grew even tighter in their grip on Lian.

Kaoru herself paused a second before her two decades of training in the dangerous field of political warfare surfaced and she gave the answer that reeked of a balance between truth, saving face, and self-preservation.

“I am a servant of the King, and love him as all his servants do. He is the one anointed by our ancestors, by heaven, and by the suite of heavenly warriors and poets.”

“Interesting you should bring up poetry, my lady. Do you write it?”

Kaoru again hesitated, and Tokugawa shifted his weight, his agitation increasing. The question had nothing to do with the topic at hand, and Kaoru was unsure how to make that point without appearing to insult the King’s chosen judge.

“Of course I am well trained in poetry. It is a noblewoman’s duty to express the beauty in our world.”

“And would you write the King poetry if he asks for it?”

“Yes, my lady judge, of course I would. I would do anything the King commands.”

“And if he commands you not to marry him?”

Finally a step forward from Tokugawa, any semblance of self-control disturbed, his eyes alight with the flame of insult. It finally gave Lian the social opportunity to look him straight into those eyes and show him that she was not intimidated. They held the stare for several seconds, during which time Lian could feel the tremble of the interpreter next to her.

Kaoru, too, had had enough, and finally spoke with the real fire of the Suru clan: a threat.

“Then, my lady judge, I would go unwed until the next King sits on his throne.”

Lian smiled, straight at Tokugawa, and nodded. “Thank you, Lady Kaoru, for explaining your Clan’s side of this disagreement. I have no more questions for you.”

Kaoru bowed to the floor and retreated out of the room. Tokugawa, forced to cede his staring contest, was none too happy to leave without Lian’s head. When he did exit the interpreter swallowed hard and muttered a swear Lian would ask Ida about later that night.

“Hm. There is no direct translation. It is shorthand though. It is asking for a quick and merciful death. It is uttered by those who fear another kind of death may be coming for them.”

“You might want to give that interpreter a short vacation then.”

“Tokugawa has killed men for far less. Even in the King’s castle. He could challenge you to a battle of honor.”

“Then he’d die.”

“I have seen your skills, Zhao, and they are many. But Tokugawa is one of the fiercest warriors in all of Wamai. It’s not just his armies that other clans fear.”

Lian shook her head with a smile, having met dozens of men just like Tokugawa in her day. “There isn’t a warrior in the world that could defeat a Shuli Go one-on-one.”

“Prove it,” Ida smiled, standing up from the wine and water they were drinking after an hour spent discussing Lian’s interview with the Surus. He rattled his sword in its sheathe and smiled. “You have shown me the techniques, now show me how they work.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Need I remind you that you have not seen my techniques in action either?”

“True enough. Perhaps we can use practice weapons then.”

“If you wish.”

Ida summoned two wooden swords, both the Wamaian curved type. Lian held one of them in her hand and felt its weight – it was shorter than Lian was used to, but she knew it wouldn’t matter. They lined up against one another and performed ceremonial bows from their different homes across the continent. And then Lian beat him.

Not just once, and not because he lacked skill or strength. For a warrior-turned-politician, she was amazed at his speed and accuracy with the heavy wooden blade. But her Shuli Go enhancements were simply too much. He almost touched her with the blade once or twice, but only when she was taking it easy on him, to avoid wounding his pride. Finally after she’d delivered a potentially lethal blow for the tenth or twelfth time, he collapsed on the ground, sweating and exhausted.

“Stop. Stop. I yield.” He rolled over onto his back and his chest heaved with the strain. “I have never yielded since that day they took my lands away. But you, Shuli Go. You are too much. I have never seen anyone move the way you do.” Lian knelt next to him and smiled.

“Don’t feel too bad about it. You’re quite good.”

“It’s true what they said. You have the strength of ten men.”

“Two, actually. Well, for women it’s three. Our muscles are made twice as thick and dense as yours. Three times as much for women. Between that, our reflexes, the enhanced vision and senses. It’s not a fair fight. Not for you. Or Tokugawa, if it came to that.”

“Tokugawa has never fought fair in his life.”

“You would know better than most, Korosura Ida.”

Ida breathed deeply a few more times, and Lian worried bringing up his role in her case might anger him. But her instincts were correct. She had chosen a moment of physical weakness in order to reduce the emotional pain her words might cause.

“Actually it’s Ida Yatanabe. I lost the Korosura name when they stole my lands.”

“Took. By your own laws they took them from you fairly.”

“Yes. Took. Sorry, my Imperial must have failed me.” They both chuckled at the lie.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to influence your decision. The King could kill you if you deliver the wrong verdict.”

“Even if that verdict set your family honor back, and denied the Surus a chance to tip the balance of power permanently in their favor?”

“What do you know of the balance of power in Wamai?”

“Only what you’ve told me, and what I’ve learned from the case. Tokugawa is not a good lord. His peasants are treated poorly. He fights without honor. And he seeks vengeance instead of justice.”

“Ok,” Ida nodded and took a deep breath, “you know enough.”

“Did you think I wouldn’t figure out who signed the contract with the old King?”

“Listen, Zhao,” Ida’s breathing slowly calmed, his chest rising and falling slowly, though his arms and legs were still splayed with exhaustion. “I was to be the King’s father. His father was an old man when we signed that contract. And he chose me not for the lands or anything else, but because he knew I would help his son become an honorable man. I have done that. Our King has grown into a good one, and the fact that I had to see that growth as a Minister instead of a father would not have mattered to the old King. And it does not matter to me. I have seen him become a man, and he is a good man. That’s all any father could ask for.”

“And your daughter? You never got to see her become a woman.”

“No. Tokugawa had his men kill both of my daughters. Innocent women, both. We are an honorable people in many things, but victory is not one of them.”

“And now you’ll let me marry your adoptive son to Tokugawa’s niece?”

“I do not allow anything. The King allows it. And the King has asked you to be impartial. Remember that tomorrow, when you speak to the Odo Clan. They are a good family, and just nobles. But that is not what you have been asked to judge.”

Ida rolled over and up onto one knee, so that he and Lian were face to face a foot apart.

“You are not here to settle my old disputes for me. You are here for the King. Remember that. Remember that tomorrow.”

The next day Lian did as instructed and remembered her role as the Odos entered her hall. She ensured her face and hands were in the same position of calm as the day before, no hint of favoritism or inflection as she asked the same questions she had of the Surus. In every way she would appear the same to the claimants. The difference lay inside, where Lian cared less about the particularities of the responses and more the sense of the respondents.

Megumi Odo was the opposite of Kaoru Suru in appearance and demeanor. A short, thin, even waifish woman, she smiled easily and spoke with a naivety only recently overcome with political aspirations. Her response was no less well rehearsed, but she was haphazard about it, stalling and starting as she struggled to remember exactly what she’d been told to say.

“Our family now owns… that is to say, we are shepherds, of the lands formerly…cared for, by the Korosura Clan. These are the lands the King was vowed to, not just a woman – a woman who has… passed along to the…great heavens – and not just a family. The land is the source of us all, and we now care for those lands which are spoken of, um, that is to say, written down, in the marriage contract.”

If it had been any other situation, Lian would have given the woman a cup of wine, told her to relax, and cracked a joke to set her at ease.

The thrust of the Odo Clan’s argument was that the marriage was actually a service the Clan offered to the King, just like taxes, levies, and religious offerings. These types of services were bound to the land, and not any specific people on the lands. As the rightful current owner of the Korosura lands, they were the only ones who could legally provide the service.

The senior Odo was Megumi’s brother, a young, handsome man, his hair short and his jaw strong and chiseled. He too stood quietly beside his female family member and watched silently. Unlike the Tokugawa though, his attention was purely on his sister. He obviously had not wanted to put so uncomfortable a woman in this position, and he winced noticeably when she stumbled over her words. More than the outcome, he cared about the process he was putting his sister through.

There was some support for the Odo Clan’s interpretation in Wamaian law. After times of war, the warrior caste would often have to marry down a class in order to repopulate their numbers. These marriages were legally considered a service required by the lower classes. And, since the King was obviously a higher class than anyone else, the act of marrying him must be considered a service handed down the echelons of nobility.

“Tell me, Lady Megumi, do you love the king?”

Megumi smiled her reflexive, unsure smile – a weak defense mechanism that would not serve her well in royal courts. And she thought about the answer for a good long while before she responded.

“I do not know the King well, my lady judge, beyond what my brother has told me and what everyone knows. But everyone says that he is a good man, and I am sure I would grow to love him if that is true.”

“And if he is not a good man? If everyone has lied to you?”

“…Then I would still be a good wife to him, in service to Wamai, my family, and our lands.”

“Do you live on these lands now, Lady?”

“I do, my lady judge.”

“Tell me about them. What do they look like?”

Megumi looked to her brother, who nodded encouragement, before smiling again and reciting a poem that did not rhyme when the translator turned it into Imperial.

“On the shores of Bay Calmridge, the men grow tall and the cats roam free, and the sun plunges into the water and smoke of purple and green arise, and as the mists come up from the sea, they make clouds that haunt the moon and shelter us from howling wolves.”

“Poetry, Lady?”

“It is the only way I could think of to describe it. It is a wonderful land.”

“I imagine it is.”