Zen looked to his daughter, the empress, as they walked through the palace grounds. He wasn’t pleased to have Ji Meng again walk the palace halls, largely for his daughter’s sake. It reminded him of something. He had contracted cancer once before, in his sixties—as a tumor, it wasn’t something that simple healing spells could remove. Great Chu doctors had performed a complex surgery, sustaining his life with their vital force as they excised it. The first procedure, however, hadn’t quite gotten it all. He’d needed another.

Ji Meng was identical to that tumor.

“Keep watch for me, here,” he told his daughter as they came to a spot near the library.

“Alright,” she agreed easily.

Zen went to a low-lying corridor. Apparently even the birds could be the eyes and ears of Argrave’s forces, so he’d needed to take a long detour to come here. He fit his hand into a recess, and a hidden doorway all too common in the imperial palace split the wall open. After walking through, he turned it back. No one was the wiser.

The tunnel beyond was dimly lit, and Zen walked through the corridors with nothing other than his memory to guide. No sound passed through the walls of the palace, so he was alone with his thoughts. Yet in time, he came to a large room with a large table. A hulking man sat cross-legged atop the table—though perhaps ‘man’ was the wrong term. No—it was Sataistador, god of war.

His green eyes fell upon Zen, and the governor felt a chill that no other could inspire. The god said evenly, “If you’ve come to see me, I presume you have news.”

“You were right.” Zen clasped his hands together in some small display of gratitude. “Argrave agreed.”

Sataistador crossed his arms. “Did he ask for anything more?”

“Details of trade between our nations, and some small compensation for the deception.” Zen shook his head. “Barely merits mentioning.”

“There you have it.” Sataistador nodded. “I might’ve spared you even that if I’d gathered information sooner, but it is what it is.”

“You seem more an information broker than a god of war,” said Zen, with a pointed question in the statement.

“The two can be similar. Gerechtigkeit—or as you know it, the test from heaven—does require people possess a degree of competence. And he learns. The work Erlebnis has done here may have been facilitated, in large part, due to his efforts.” Sataistador shrugged calmly. “I needed to be free for what comes next.”

“What does come next?” Zen raised a brow.

Sataistador grabbed a blade on his waist, then drew it so cleanly it made no noise at all. Zen restrained himself from stepping back, and was relieved when the god raised his blade near his head. With one huge hand, he gathered the thick mane of red hair behind him and severed it cleanly. He held the cut hair firmly, and it began to twist, writhe, and coalesce together. Zen watched with awe as what had been hair became a red dagger that seemed no different than forged metal. Sataistador dropped it with the point facing downward. It pierced the ground, going all the way to its hilt.

“For you.” Sataistador’s hair looked somewhat strange after, but after running his hands through a few times it became natural-looking. “I make one of these weapons every millennium. Why, you ask? Back when I was still a man, my tribe cut our hair to prepare for war.”

Zen took the meaning, inhaling deeply.

“As you use it, it’ll adapt to best suit how you fight,” Sataistador continued. “Magic, hand-to-hand, it doesn’t matter; it’ll shape to your needs.” He ran his hands across the other weapons he carried. “Each of these were born looking like that, but in time he’ll grow to suit you. Keep him on you, always.”

Zen kneeled down before the weapon, fearing to touch it. “Him?”

“How can it grow if it isn’t alive? But… like any child, he’s needy. Part from him for even a few minutes, well… you won’t like it. But raise him well, and he can kill gods.” The god of war smiled wickedly—after losing his mane, he appeared ever more savage and vicious. “And if you carry it… I think he will. Soon, even.”

Zen pulled it free, examining it, before looking back up. “Does cutting the beard give me a sheathe?”

Sataistador’s smile faded. “Enjoy the wedding.”

#####

The palace tour had no end of luxuries to demonstrate to Argrave and all of his guests. It wasn’t difficult to see why Ji Meng had lost the plot, somewhat—and further, why he was content allowing Argrave to run the show as the legitimate power while the emperor remained a figurehead. There was enough in this place for the emperor to fill up a lifetime. The library alone had enough knowledge to fill centuries.

But the tour did eventually come to a close, and they headed for a large, open courtyard for the next performances. It had less structure than the first, and people hung near fences containing the act, milling about and socializing. ‘Vital force artistry,’ it was called—great, glorious displays of highly specialized magic. Argrave, having some mastery of magic, wasn’t impressed by the dancing fire dragons or even the movie-screen like lightning projections… but as a practitioner of magic, he could appreciate just how difficult each act was.

After working out their strategy for the marriage question, Argrave was able to indulge his own personal curiosity—he approached Orion, who stood alone.

“Where did Ji Li go?” He asked his brother.

Orion looked at him. “Some of her relatives pulled her away for some matter—they were vague about what. I could find her, Your Majesty, in less than a minute.”

“No no no,” Argrave said quickly, shaking his head. “How did your walk go?”

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“It was flat ground—difficult to stumble. Neither of us tripped. I’d call it a success, if we’re speaking of walking alone.” Orion ran his hand down his beard. “Still, I do feel minutely outclassed.”

“What?” Argrave asked in shock. “You’re kidding, right?”

Above, a great rumble of thunder echoed, and an anglerfish of lightning chased a fox of water.

“Ji Li plays eight different instruments. Though born without magic, she can transcribe spells up to S-rank and create enchantments of the same caliber. She paints, sculpts, and can perform countless dances, though she has a particular fondness for sword dancing. She’s adept at falconry, and rears half a thousand birds. Whereas I… am a little stronger than most, and can take a lot of damage.” Orion’s hand clenched and unclenched.

“You learned all of that?” Argrave looked surprised. Had it been anyone else, he might’ve thought Ji Li was just making things up.

“I am intended to learn about the other in a partnership, correct, Your Majesty?” Orion looked at Argrave, brows furrowed. “Such was advice I received.”

“Well, yeah, but…” Argrave shrugged. “But did you have fun? Was it a pleasant experience?”

“Pleasant enough,” Orion nodded. “I believe I frighten her. And she seems distrustful. She kept asking the same question, as though I was lying to her.”

“What was the question?”

“She asked, ‘what do I do to enjoy myself?’”

Argrave narrowed his eyes. “And you told her…”

“Speak with Vasquer. Help out around Blackgard. What I generally do—no doubt Your Majesty has seen me.” Orion explained.

Argrave looked up to the sky, where the fox had finally escaped the anglerfish once and for all and darted up toward the clouds. With a sigh, he said, “Maybe she’ll understand if I say it.”

“Certainly. Your Majesty has a way with words.” He nodded seriously. “She also stutters.”

“Stutters?” Argrave repeated.

“When she speaks quickly.” Orion nodded. “She got excited speaking of her falcons.”

“Hmm.” Argrave shrugged. “Does that bother you?”

“What bothers me is merely that I suspect that’s why her parents suggested the vow of silence to her in our first meeting.” Orion looked at him. “Or so Elenore said. I’m actually unsure of it, myself.”

“Elenore? You spoke to her?”

“Yes!” Orion said enthusiastically. “She was a tremendous help. I had no clue what to ask. Her words were a lodestar amidst uncertain seas.”

“Ah,” Argrave said with a knowing nod—now he was making sense of why Orion had such a relatively normal time. He was about to inquire more, but was interrupted.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” a eunuch called out, gently let loudly. “The second meal has been prepared. We have prepared chairs and tables for all—you need not move from where you stand.”

As countless servants of the palace walked out, each and all doing as the eunuch had instructed, Argrave realized it was time for the second meal… and after this, the opera house. Apparently, Anneliese, Argrave, and his siblings would be sharing a booth with Governor Zen. There, they’d put the final question to rest—how could they compromise with Zen?

#####

Argrave thought he’d seen no end to luxury and decadence after having witnessed the imperial palace, but he was proven wrong when they headed for the Chou Opera House. They began the city tour not on a parade, but on a grand barge that took up the length of the canals throughout Ji. Every single ship had been removed from the canals for them. Low-lying yet wide, it moved throughout the city with citizens looking upon them with a great degree of zeal. They cheered, but from the interior, Argrave could hear little.

With a brief bit of respite from the constant socializing, Argrave and Anneliese enjoyed their private quarters in the pleasure barge in relative silence. Eventually, however, they did strategize with Elenore further, who was busy in another boat making last-minute confirmations with another prominent elven member of their entourage. When the cheers faded, Argrave looked out the window.

The Chou Opera House, which Argrave had assumed they’d need to exit the boat to reach, sat in the center of a lake just outside of the city. It wasn’t on an island in the middle of the lake, but rather, the Chou Opera House itself was a gigantic boat, perhaps even larger than the Sea Dragon that Argrave had taken. They were given the option to continue on by boat so that they could get closer to the stage, or go to the booths—given their date with Zen, the choice was made for them, but Argrave was undeniably curious about what the first option entailed.

As Argrave was led to a booth on the Chou Opera House, things became clear. The inside of the Chou Opera House was hollow so as to permit boats to sail inside it. As Argrave watched, several barges entered inside the opera house, drifting up until they came just alongside the stage. Several other boats filed in, forming impromptu seats in the calm lake. Each and every boat was eerily still, kept suspended by magic. From the booths, though, Argrave could see the whole stage.

“I always did like a booth. But nothing beats being right by the stage of the opera, aboard my barge.”

Argrave looked back, where Zen entered the room.

“You can’t quite have serious discussions right next to the stage,” Argrave said evenly, turning away from the booth’s window. “Would be rude to the others.”

“The emperor’s done it before. But then, you’re not wrong about the second part.”

As everyone situated themselves in the huge booth, a lone woman walked out onto the opera’s stage. She shouted, “Please, greet the actors! Each and all are honored to perform here today!”

Argrave took his seat idly and watched, joined by Anneliese and Elenore to his right while Orion and Governor Zen sat to his left. The opera, like the puppet show earlier this morning, was about Argrave and Emperor Ji Meng. Tired of reliving the same old tired story, he intended to ignore it. Argrave liked himself well enough, but this was too much of a good thing.

The governor began, “So… you’ve seen all my kin, all my family. Perhaps you’d best start with thoughts. I’ll be blunt: who do you fancy?”

“I’ll be blunter—my presence here, long-term, is going to be minimal,” Argrave answered quickly. “This place, for all its glitter and glamor, simply isn’t my home. Slaying gods in my primary purpose here. Once it’s done, there’s the bigger matter. Gerechtigkeit. But the infrastructure here… it’s given both me and my sister a great deal to think about.” He shook his head. “I digress. Point being… you won’t be dealing with me.”

“Who will I be dealing with?” Zen indulged patiently.

“My father-in-law,” Argrave explained. “Patriarch Dras.”

“Dras has… incredibly high standards,” Anneliese added. “Unreasonably so. Perhaps you should’ve had those… women… audition for him,” she said, finally letting some of her annoyance out.

“I agree,” Argrave nodded, but as he watched the stage, he paused his words.

The announcer shouted, “Playing Grand Commandant Sun…!”

Argrave saw an uncomfortably familiar face playing himself. One that definitely didn’t belong.