Shusei removed his cloak and changed from his traveling clothes into a shenyi. From the height of the sun, he knew there was a bit of time before he needed to make his move. He collected the papers from his desk, stacked them neatly, and put them in a box.

The box was tightly packed with all the notes he’d written on cuisinology since coming to the Ho House. As he closed the lid, his hand lingered there reluctantly. After a moment, he took his hand away and looked around the room. There was a loneliness in how precisely arranged it was.

Bamboo leaves rustled outside the open window. Shusei closed his eyes and let the sound wash over him.

I’m not as upset as I feared I’d be.

Sensing someone’s presence, Shusei opened his eyes. It was his grandfather, Ho Neison, standing outside the room. The old man entered with a satisfied grin.

“Well done, Shusei! I’ve heard from Mars. Just as you asked three days ago, the chief general and the Minister of Justice began moving this morning. Everything seems to be going smoothly,” Neison explained.

“Do we know how many of the bureaucrats have been pushed into action?” Shusei asked.

“About one-third of them, I’m told. The soldiers stationed around the capital will surely follow the chief general’s lead as well. Our military’s might will be overwhelming.”

“One-third of the bureaucrats... That’s less than I anticipated. It might not be enough. I also didn’t expect Shu Kojin to return to His Majesty’s side. If we want to embolden more of them, a harder push may be required.”

“Pardon the intrusion, my lord.”

A man had appeared in the doorway, kneeling. He was dressed as a servant, but his body was sinewy and his eyes were sharp. Neison gave the man a curious look.

“A spy I’m employing,” Shusei explained as he approached the newcomer. “Tell me, what is the state of the palace?”

“The chief general, Minister of Justice, and the bureaucrats are assembling in the Hall of New Harmony. It appears His Majesty has returned to the palace,” the spy reported.

“And the letter I left with you before I departed for Koto?”

“A trusted contact is delivering it. If all goes well, it should arrive the day after tomorrow.”

Hearing that put the scholar at ease.

“Excellent work. Leave us,” Shusei ordered. The spy stood and departed.

“What’s this about a letter?” Neison asked.

“Just a necessary step toward an aggressive position. Nothing to worry about,” the scholar said, turning back to face his grandfather with a smile. “For now, I’m heading to the Hall of New Harmony. I need to make the final push.”

“Is that right? Well, go on, then. Lead our house to glory.”

Shusei bowed and departed. As he walked, eyes focused firmly forward, his body was tense with both anxiety and resolve.

Things are finally starting. The flames will flicker, then dance, then erupt. All by my hand.

Chapter 1: The Hall of New Harmony Trembles

I

I wonder what’s happening in the palace.

Rimi and Shohi’s carriage had been driving day and night to get them back from Koto to Annei. The moment Shusei had departed the Autumn Garden—the Shu Family’s second home—Shu Kojin had prepared carriages to return them to the palace. There were two carriages, lightweight and made for high speeds. Shohi and Rimi rode in one while Kojin and Ryo Renka took the other. Jotetsu, Kunki, and the rest of the guard escorted them on horseback.

Inside the violently bouncing cart, Shohi had been sitting silently for the entire journey. Rimi was stroking Tama, who sat curled atop her lap. The consort could sense Shohi’s urgency, anger, and sadness.

Shohi, Kojin, and Renka had all agreed they needed to return to the capital without delay. If Shusei had spoken the truth and dissent was spreading among the bureaucrats, potentially leading to a call for the emperor’s abdication, then they needed to put a stop to it immediately. Any sort of delay could mean irreparable harm.

Rimi was worried as well, but talking about it would only add to Shohi’s worries. Instead, she tried to encourage the emperor to eat something, like the dried figs that Mrs. Yo had sent with them. But Shohi refused all her offerings.

I suppose it’s no surprise he’s not hungry.

Rimi tucked the figs into her pocket. She didn’t have much of an appetite either.

Master Shusei, he...smiled.

The scholar had announced that Shohi’s abdication was his personal wish. He’d said that he believed Shohi was suffering, meaning it was supposed to be for his benefit, as well as the stability of Konkoku. He’d treated it like a game of wordplay and smiled. A bright smile, untainted by any hint of a lie.

It had been a blow to Rimi, and even now, removed from that moment, her heart was heavy with sorrow. It was like she’d watched Shusei die. He was still alive, of course, but the kind Shusei she’d loved was gone. He was something else now.

Meanwhile, Shohi was certainly angry with him for revealing himself as an enemy of the throne. He seemed anxious to fix things before they got worse. And like Rimi, he was probably enduring the grief of losing Shusei.

They stopped a few times at inn towns to switch horses, and each time, the sun was higher in the sky. As the sun climbed, they traveled faster, and it was midday when they arrived in Annei. Shohi’s expression turned grim as the towering fortress walls of the palace came into sight. Rimi could feel the tension coil inside of her as well. Tama seemed to pick up on that as she perked her head up and looked at Rimi with concern.

“Don’t worry, it’s okay. We’re back at the palace,” the consort whispered as she stroked Tama’s back.

The dragon looked from Rimi to Shohi. She then seemed to sense something and scurried under Rimi’s skirt.

What are you sensing, Tama? And what was that before?

On the cliffside of the Autumn Garden, when Shusei had turned his back on Shohi, she felt like she’d heard Tama’s voice.

“It is decided.”

If that really had been the dragon’s voice, what did it mean?

Kunki, who had been keeping pace with the convoy, pushed ahead and disappeared into the palace to announce their arrival. The carriage followed behind him at a somewhat slower pace. They entered the carriage field, and before they could even come to a full stop, the door flew open.

“Your Majesty, the ministers of Revenue and Rites are here to see you,” Kunki said, the well-mannered bodyguard peering into the wagon with his shiny, boiled-egg face. He seemed pale, and there were dark rings beneath his eyes. He’d been on a forced march from Annei to Koto and back, so he could hardly be blamed for looking tired. But true to form, both his demeanor and his voice were sharply controlled.

Behind the bodyguard, the two ministers were pacing quickly in their direction through the swirling dust of the carriage field. Shohi immediately descended from the vehicle, and Rimi followed.

“Hey, hey, c’mon. Why’s everyone look so serious?” Jotetsu said jokingly, positioning himself behind Shohi.

“Something really is happening, isn’t it?” the emperor asked the approaching ministers.

To Rihan, Minister of Revenue, and Jin Keiyu, Minister of Rites, stood before Shohi and bowed. Their gazes were stern as they raised their heads.

“Your Majesty, may I ask where you went?” Rihan asked, condemnation clear in his gravelly voice.

“I apologize for leaving without telling you. But I’ve returned with Kojin and our new Minister of Personnel,” Shohi said.

“Chancellor Shu?” Keiyu said with wide eyes.

The second carriage arrived behind them, quickly stopping in a swirl of dust. The door opened, and Kojin and Renka disembarked. Rihan and Keiyu both looked stunned.

“What are you two looking at?” Kojin asked the ministers in his usual calm voice. “I’ve returned from my vacation, that’s all.”

“Chancellor Shu? And even Renka? How did you...” Keiyu murmured.

“I’ll explain later,” Shohi said, brushing off Keiyu’s questions. He faced the pair with a sharp look. “I assume if you came here the moment you heard I’d returned, something’s going on.”

Rihan nodded gravely.

“Yes, Your Majesty. The chief general, the Minister of Justice, and nearly five hundred like-minded bureaucrats have assembled in the Hall of New Harmony. They desire a direct audience with you and your council.”

“For what reason?” Shohi asked icily.

“It is an unbelievable outrage. The ungrateful lot are demanding your...your...” Rihan said, unable to finish the sentence.

“They want me to abdicate? So Shusei was right,” Shohi snorted. He turned back to face his chancellor. “Kojin, I’m going to meet with them. Do you approve?”

“I believe that is appropriate, Your Majesty.” Kojin nodded, then added, “Renka and I will come with you.”

“Rimi, I’m leaving for the Hall of New Harmony,” Shohi said, looking at her kindly. “You should rest. You must be tired after a bumpy night in a carriage.”

“No, I’m coming too!” Rimi blurted out and took a step toward the emperor. “I know I can’t do anything, but I don’t want to leave your side!”

The shock that this unfamiliar Shusei had inflicted on her wouldn’t pass in a single night. Her mind was still reeling from the sadness. Shohi had received the very same shock, and she knew just how hurt and shaken he felt. That was why she didn’t want to leave him. While knowing she could do nothing even if she was there, she could at least support him if it seemed like he might fall.

I can’t leave him at a time like this.

Shohi seemed able to read her pleading look, and he gave her a small smile.

“How could I say no to that?” he responded with a nod before turning to leave. Kojin, Renka, Rihan, and Keiyu all followed him. Rimi and Jotetsu joined them from behind.

With five hundred bureaucrats lined up and waiting, the Hall of New Harmony’s smooth stone floors could hardly be seen. At the forefront of the group was the Chief General of the Imperial Army, clad in a breastplate, and the Minister of Justice.

Rimi and Jotetsu were behind a thick curtain watching Shohi, who was sitting on his throne and fearlessly meeting the crowd’s stares.

“That son of a bitch general is wearing his armor. He’s here for war,” Jotetsu grumbled.

It was probably an unsurprising show of force, considering they were demanding the emperor to abdicate.

But a direct demand for abdication without any show of regret or attempt to soften the blow was the most heinous act of disrespect an emperor could receive. Rimi wondered how Shohi would respond to that.

The emperor’s gaze passed across the crowd, and while he scowled at the general’s attire, he remained calmly seated on his throne. Though they’d only just returned from their journey, he’d managed to change into a plum-colored ceremonial robe. A silver dragon was embroidered across the shoulders, which reached down toward his chest.

“Now, of all times, you must be seen at your best,” Kojin had said, encouraging Shohi to take the time to change his clothes. It would put the emperor in an even worse situation if he was seen as sloppy and disorganized.

Rihan and Keiyu took places below the throne. Kojin and Renka came to stand beside them.

Surprised whispers rippled through the crowd at the chancellor’s arrival. Shusei had spread rumors that Kojin had turned his back on Shohi, so seeing him stand with the emperor now likely came as a shock.

The chief general and Minister of Justice, however, were utterly unmoved.

“You requested an audience with me, so I have come. What is this about?” Shohi asked. His voice resounded well through the hall, which was three times a person’s height.

The chief general stepped forward. In his hand was a roll of paper, which he unfurled on the floor. It was an endless list of bureaucrats’ names, signed in ink.

Rihan and Keiyu looked annoyed, while Kojin looked at the scroll in disdain. Renka smirked.

“We present our Letter of Compact. Contained are our names and the names of all those who agree with us,” the Minister of Justice, a man of small build, said as he stepped forward.

“Letter of Compact? What is that?” Rimi asked, looking up at Jotetsu. The term was unfamiliar.

“It’s a petition, basically,” Jotetsu spat. “A list of all the people who’d love to see His Majesty abdicate.”

If they had something like that ready, it meant they’d probably been carefully preparing this for a long time. If Shusei had ordered this, then his attention to detail was frightening.

“And what is this about?” Shohi repeated calmly while looking at the Letter of Compact. “Get to the point” was what it seemed like he wanted to say.

“We wish for you to abdicate the throne. Forgive our rudeness, but it is our unanimous opinion that you lack the age and grace to lead our empire. We desire a new emperor, one more fitting for the role,” the Minister of Justice announced. The look in his eyes was sharp.

Shohi continued to stare at the Letter of Compact with a blank expression, seeming to completely ignore the speech. But after a moment, he lifted his gaze and looked across the crowd.

“You are right. This is rude,” the emperor said as he began to stand. He glared at the present bureaucrats from in front of his throne. “I understand your message. But do you understand, I wonder? This is an act of rebellion. It is an act with consequences. There is still time for you to undo this. I don’t know what sort of ridiculous rumors you’ve fallen for, but as you can see, Shu Kojin stands with me as chancellor. Further, Ryo Renka has agreed to fill the vacant Minister of Personnel position.”

At that, Renka bowed. Kojin took a step forward.

“Our rude friend claimed a moment ago that His Majesty lacks grace,” the chancellor began, his voice rich with contempt. “But have you all forgotten? Who granted our country’s hundred-year wish of opening trade with Saisakoku? He stands before you. He did what no one else could. He lacks grace? He who has done what no emperor has done in a hundred years? According to whom? I am here because I resolved to serve His Majesty. So too is the Minister of Personnel. His Majesty’s reign is stable, and you fools want to rebel against him?”

The assembled bureaucrats began to exchange looks.

“There is still time. Leave, and I will forget this happened,” Shohi added.

“Thank him for his generosity, and forget your treasonous ideas!” Kojin barked, not wasting a moment.

Some bureaucrats took a step back and seemed on the verge of leaving. The crowd began to stir, seemingly beginning to lose heart.

Maybe they’ll listen!

Rimi grasped the curtain tightly as hopeful expectation swelled inside her. Jotetsu had a grin as well.

“There’s no treason here!” called a voice brimming with confidence.

II

The voice came from the hall’s open entrance. A tall, slender young man stood there, illuminated from behind by the shining sun. It was Ho Shusei, master of the Ho House.

Master Shusei!

One look at his seemingly kind face sent a shiver down her spine.

I’m afraid of him.

He seemed kind on the outside. But he was a beast waiting to strike, hiding his razor claws and fangs. He had killed the kind, young cuisinologist she’d once known. It was a confusing feeling.

He killed the man I love.

Shusei bowed and entered the hall. He looked from left to right and smiled at people as he slowly worked his way through the crowd.

“Chancellor Shu claims His Majesty is responsible for opening trade with Saisakoku, ignoring all the work of the emperors who came before him. One could argue that a hundred years of labor has finally borne fruit, and he was simply lucky enough to be on the throne when it happened,” the scholar explained. “And the chancellor may claim that this is ‘treason’ and ‘rebellion,’ but he is gravely mistaken. You see, the Ryus are not the only family who can be named emperor.”

Shusei stopped in the very center of the crowd. His smile deepened.

“As we all know, Konkoku has two potential royal families: the Ryu House and the Ho House. Should the bureaucrats and the people not be allowed to choose which suits us more as their ruler, then? If the Ho House is not in their favor, then they should be allowed to choose the Ryu House. If not the Ryu House, then the Ho House. Therefore, this is no treason or rebellion. It’s a choice, isn’t it? The fact that both houses exist is an acknowledgment of that fact, wouldn’t you say? Heaven has granted you the right to seek a better ruler.”

Shusei’s confident demeanor and smile were calming the fidgeting bureaucrats. He began walking once more, pressing his way through the crowd.

“You’re simply asking for the choice Heaven has allowed you. That is why you placed your names on that Letter of Compact,” he concluded.

With Shusei’s specific wording, realization began dawning on the faces of the bureaucrats. Shohi could claim that all would be forgiven, but the names of those who had signed would come out eventually. They had no proof that it wouldn’t be used against them. They seemed to remember that now.

There could be no retreat. That was the feeling spreading as Shusei passed among the crowd. The knowledge seemed to embolden the people.

He’s so cunning.

Rimi was dumbfounded by his ability. He had eliminated any feelings of guilt the assembled may have had, and he had closed off any escape route for the timid. His confidence was also giving them relief and a sense of certainty.

The situation had turned on its head, all because of Shusei.

“Tch. Damn him,” Jotetsu hissed.

The scholar came to stand between the chief general and Minister of Justice, who both bowed to him: the bow of a servant to their master.

From in front of his throne, Shohi stared unflinchingly at Shusei. The emperor’s expression was plain, but one could see the faint outline of his tightly clenched fists through his sleeves.

“Your Majesty, these people are simply making the choice that Heaven has afforded them. So I will make the demand on their behalf. Abdicate the throne,” Shusei said clearly and fearlessly.

Chapter 4: The First Night

I

From the moment the four consorts had learned of Shohi’s decision to fight, they had spent their days in the Palace of Northern Peaks, buried in books. They were so reluctant to part with their work that they continued their research while in bed. Rimi came to the rear palace several times a day to thank the consorts with sweets.

But three days had passed, and they had discovered nothing.

Autumn was progressing quickly. The evening air was growing chilly, and the maple leaves in the garden were changing color.

“This would be easier if you could just talk to me, Tama,” Rimi said, stroking the dragon’s fur as she sat on the sofa in the emperor’s chambers. Shohi was in his office, meeting with his council.

I wish she could communicate like she did at Castle Seika.

As that thought passed through Rimi’s head, Tama turned her big blue eyes toward the consort, and she let out an inquisitive squeak.

“Can’t you try talking, Tama? Or spell something out with letters like you did at Castle Seika?” Rimi asked.

The little dragon responded with a sorrowful squeak.

Apparently, communicating with words or letters was no easy feat for her. Rimi didn’t believe that Tama wanted to make the consort’s life harder, so it was more likely that there were simply things she couldn’t do. Castle Seika had been brimming with spiritual energy. Without a place like that, maybe some things were just too much to ask.

Even when Tama had said “it is decided,” the dragon herself didn’t seem to understand the meaning of it. How was a human supposed to guess?

“You look out of it, Rimi. You worn out? It must be rough, spending night after night with His Majesty,” Jotetsu commented as he entered the room, clearly amused by his own teasing.

“Please don’t put it so strangely, Master Jotetsu,” Rimi said.

The consort had been unable to return to the Palace of the Water Spirit, so at Shohi’s request, she’d been spending every night in his bed. But, like the first night, nothing had happened. He simply slept soundly.

Jotetsu grinned as he hopped up on the windowsill and crudely propped a leg up.

“Far as I see it, it’s a miracle he hasn’t done anything,” the spy said.

“His Majesty told me he wouldn’t do anything inappropriate.”

“I sure as hell wouldn’t be able to do that. I’m nothing but inappropriate,” Jotetsu said, puffing out his chest.

“Is that something you should be proud of?” Rimi asked, a bit shocked by his demeanor.

A while later, Shohi returned to his room. Right after entering, he came straight to Rimi and sat beside her. He heaved a sigh, slumped back in the seat, and stared at the ceiling.

“Are you tired, Your Majesty? May I pour you some tea?” Rimi asked.

Shohi turned his gaze to her, then softly pet the dragon sitting in her lap. The movement of his fingers was a bit stiff and clumsy.

“No, not tired. My body just feels heavy,” the emperor replied.

“Well, it is cold out. Let’s light a brazier.”

Jotetsu took that at his cue to stand and fetch a large, white porcelain brazier. He had apparently managed to find some live coals somewhere, as Rimi could see a red glow within the container as the spy set it down near them.

While Jotetsu worked to build the flames, Rimi closed the doors and windows. The room began to slowly warm after a while, and Shohi’s expression softened.

Jotetsu seemed lost in thought as he sat down beside the fire.

“What is it?” Shohi asked, apparently concerned by his bodyguard’s pensiveness.

“What? Oh, nothing,” Jotetsu said, looking up with a start. “I just remembered something.”

“Remembered what?”

“I’ll show you. Give me a moment.”

Jotetsu left the room. He wasn’t gone for too long before returning with a handled earthenware pot, a wooden spatula, and a plate. The pot was small and shallow, usually used for roasting beans or seeds. It was filled about a third of the way with some sort of clear liquid.

Jotetsu placed the pot over the brazier. Before long, bubbles began appearing on the surface of the liquid, which he took as a cue to start stirring it with the spatula. A sweet aroma began to rise from the pot, and the clear fluid began to take on a slightly golden color.

Tama’s head popped up at the smell. She hopped down from Rimi’s lap and climbed on the sofa’s armrest to get a better look.

“It’s candy,” Rimi said.

“I used to eat this. Shusei always made it for me,” Shohi mumbled.

The consort started at Shusei’s name and looked up at the emperor, but he didn’t seem particularly emotional as he watched Jotetsu’s hand.

“It’s geyi. Do you remember? You always used to want this when you were worn out. It just popped into my head, so I thought I’d make it,” Jotetsu explained. “You can get a darker color if you mix in nuts and let it cool. The Chief of Dining put it together for me and made sure I knew exactly how to make it.”

Jotetsu pulled a cloth sack from his pocket and dropped it into Shohi’s hand. It was full of crushed, roasted nuts. The emperor stood up and went to kneel by Jotetsu.

“Let me. I’ll do it,” Shohi said.

“You, Your Majesty?” Jotetsu asked.

“I think I’d be good at this. The four consorts have been learning to cook. I want to try too.”

Shohi took the spatula and adeptly stirred the mixture. The stuff grew stickier before their eyes, and the brown color deepened. Shohi poured the nuts into the pot, and after blending them into the mixture, pulled the pot from the heat. Jotetsu immediately produced the plate, onto which Shohi poured the pot’s contents.

The sweet scent of candy mixed with the earthy scent of nuts. The fluid oozed out onto the plate, spreading until it was a uniform thickness, at which point it cooled and hardened.

Rimi stood up and went to peer at the plate, which had been laid on the table to cool. The candy glittered in the light, not quite yellow or brown. Bits of white, red, brown, and black—the crushed nuts—were scattered throughout the candy.

“It’s lovely. It looks tasty too,” the consort muttered.

“Want to try some?” Shohi turned around to ask, clearly proud of his work.

“I’d love to.”

Jotetsu produced a spoon and handed it to the emperor. However, Shohi seemed perplexed when he tried to scoop some up. It had hardened, so he couldn’t get any in the spoon.

“I can’t scoop it. Did I do it wrong?” Shohi asked.

Rimi picked up the plate and touched the geyi’s surface. As she did, the candy slipped off the plate in a big disc. It shone a beautiful amber color.

“It feels like you’re supposed to crush this up into something more bite-size. Master Jotetsu, you had the Chief of Dining make it for you, right? If you did everything according to his instructions, then this should be the finished product, don’t you think? It certainly looks like perfectly delicious candy,” Rimi commented.

The real question was why Shohi thought it was supposed to be eaten with a spoon. Jotetsu had prepared one as well. The two men looked at each other.

“Oh, I see. Maybe Shusei was the one who didn’t do it right? His was always darker, and it didn’t harden. You had to eat it with a spoon. It was more like really thick rice syrup,” Shohi suggested with a strained smile.

“Maybe he didn’t measure the ingredients right? It might be hard to get it to solidify. He could have overcooked it to get it hard enough, which would be why the color was darker.”

“I see. So he did it wrong,” Shohi said, furrowing his eyebrows.

Rimi broke the candy into pieces and gave some to the two men. Tama eagerly hopped up on the table, so she gave the dragon a big piece as well.

The consort popped a piece of geyi into her own mouth. It was incredibly sweet, easy to chew, and rich with the aroma of roasted nuts.

Shohi rolled his piece of geyi around his mouth before crunching down on it. He made an odd expression.

“It’s certainly good, but I’d like it better if it was softer and more aromatic,” the emperor said.

“Then it would just be one of Shusei’s failures,” Jotetsu quipped.

It seemed Shohi actually preferred the scholar’s failed product. That made Rimi a bit worried, and she looked timidly at him.

“Your Majesty, are you...uncomfortable?” she asked.

“Why would I be?”

“Well, this candy. You said Lord Ho used to make this. I just thought those memories might... Maybe this candy is making you uncomfortable?”

It was no fault of the candy’s, but if it brought back unpleasant memories, then maybe it would be better to let someone else eat it out of the emperor’s sight.

Shohi gazed at the crushed geyi, like bits of amber, on the pure white plate.

“This Shusei is not the Shusei I knew. Something has changed in him. Somehow, I know he doesn’t hate me at all. He only sees me as an obstacle to his convictions. An obstacle he wants to remove,” Shohi explained. “But I can’t hand the throne to a man obsessed with foolish convictions. Thinking about him doesn’t make me uncomfortable. I just think I have to fight him.”

There was strength in the calm way the emperor spoke. How painful would it be to decide you had to fight a man who’d been your companion since childhood? It hurt Rimi to think about it.

“I’m...angry at Lord Ho. For making you feel like that,” she said.

Shohi’s expression suddenly turned quizzical.

“You never say Shusei now. It used to be ‘Master Shusei this, Master Shusei that,’” he commented.

“A man who would make you feel like this isn’t the Master Shusei I knew,” Rimi said and quickly looked away.

Shohi must have been so sad he wanted to cry. He had known the scholar far longer than she had. The shock of his betrayal must have been immeasurable. It crushed her to think that he couldn’t or refused to show how he felt.

The emperor seemed to be lost in silent contemplation for some time.

“You’re right,” the emperor confessed. “At the Autumn Garden, I wanted to cut him down. Even now, I’d drag him before me and force an apology out of him if I could. But when I think of the Shusei who used to make geyi for me, I don’t feel angry. I just feel empty. This man isn’t Shusei. Maybe the Shusei I knew is dead. Maybe it’s someone else wearing his skin. Seeing it like that is easier.”

Shohi paused and placed a hand on Rimi’s cheek.

“This must be painful for you too,” he continued. “It must be confusing to feel like this Shusei is a different man than the one you knew.”

That was too much for Rimi. She couldn’t stop the tears from overflowing.

You idiot, Rimi. He’s the one in pain, but here he is comforting you.

“Don’t cry. How am I supposed to cry if you’re crying?” Shohi asked.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself.”

“I suppose you’re crying in my place then.”

His kind voice overwhelmed Rimi with the urge to kneel. She clutched his palm to her face with both hands.

Chapter 7: The Awaited Dawn

I

After a while, Kojin, Renka, and Rihan arrived at the room where Hakurei was resting. He was sitting on the emperor’s bed but hadn’t settled in. He probably thought it would be presumptuous to sleep in his master’s bed as if it were his own.

The director said he was fine and tried to get up, but Shohi forced him back down. It seemed the emperor was worried for his brother’s health.

Shohi had stayed beside the bed, but with Jotetsu and Rimi’s assistance, had changed and eaten, so he appeared rather calm.

The chancellor and ministers still seemed to be reeling from the shock of Keiyu being a mole. After all, he had been Rihan’s friend since their student days and one of Kojin’s most trusted men. Still, true to their positions as chancellor and ministers of Konkoku, they kept their composure.

“Forgive us, Your Majesty. We failed to notice the secret dealings of the Minister of Rites,” Kojin said. All three of them kneeled.

“There’s no need to apologize. Stand,” Shohi ordered. “If you noticed nothing strange, it’s because he was like that from the start. Besides, according to him, he was in it for the amusement. If that’s the case, he wouldn’t have been acting at all like your typical spy. It would’ve been difficult to notice.”

“The amusement? He actually said that?” Rihan asked, raising his head.

“He did.”

“Damn him...” Rihan grumbled. From his expression, he looked pained and deeply confused.

“What did you end up doing with him?” Shohi asked.

“We threw him in a cell here in the rear palace,” Renka spat. “He’s been obedient, but he hasn’t said a word. He just has the same old grin.”

“I’ve known him since we were both students, but I was never able to figure out what he was thinking,” Rihan said, face twisting into a frown.

“As I said, a man like that is hard to read. Don’t let it get to you,” Shohi said.

As Kojin approached the bed, Hakurei seemed to sense his presence and tried to stand.

“Just be still, Hakurei,” the emperor said.

“Easier said than done,” Hakurei responded with some dismay.

“Do as His Majesty says,” Kojin said, coming to stand beside the bed. “Director, I want to offer my appreciation and respect for your actions.”

With that, the chancellor bowed. Kojin was probably blaming himself, believing he should’ve been the one to unearth the mole. His expression was a mixture of gratitude for Hakurei and irritation at his own ineptitude.

Hakurei continued looking in Kojin’s direction for a while, but he seemed to eventually realize that the chancellor was bowing to him. The eunuch’s expression turned to shock.

“I’m not worthy of your gratitude, Chancellor. I simply did the natural thing,” Hakurei said faintly and smiled.

Kojin raised his head and looked at Hakurei’s beautiful, unfocused eyes.

Shohi heaved a sigh and stood up from his chair.

“I’m glad the matter with Keiyu is resolved, but we need to decide our strategy for tomorrow. How will the enemy approach, and how should we respond?” the emperor asked.

“Now that the prefectural armies have entered the palace, there’s a strong chance the enemy will attack from all sides. They shouldn’t be expecting more reinforcements to arrive,” Renka explained matter-of-factly.

“We’re still expecting reinforcements from Bun and Kyo. Hopefully, Saisakoku as well. Whatever the case, I don’t expect any of them to make it by morning,” Shohi said as he stared at the ceiling.

The prefectures of Bun and Kyo were farther from the capital than the other three. Crossing their borders also meant dealing with tall mountains and traversing deep rivers. It was doubtful they’d be only a day behind the other armies. More likely, it would be several days at least. Saisakoku was the same. Even in the best of cases, it would be days before they could expect those troops to arrive.

The palace was now besieged with thirty thousand men inside. The new troops meant that the defense would be easier, but Rimi could see they’d brought a new, large problem with them. Kojin recognized it as well and beat her to the punch.

“Rihan, how much food does the palace have?” the chancellor asked.

“I’d say we’ll run out in two days,” Rihan answered.

“What about the rear palace’s stockpiles? Director, do you have a guess?”

“By my estimation, the rear palace can only support about two thousand men through the night,” Hakurei answered. “Would you agree, Rimi? You’ve been helping out in Food Services.”

“Yes, I’d say Master Hakurei is correct,” Rimi replied.

“So you’re saying we need to win this war fast and hard too?” Jotetsu asked bitterly.

“Carrying on with the siege would only work if we were expecting a huge number of reinforcements, but we can only expect another ten thousand or so. That isn’t enough to crush the enemy from the outside. Without a bigger force, holding this siege will just turn us into trapped rats. We’ll be suffocated,” Renka spelled out bluntly.

“Holding the palace was never a winning strategy to begin with,” Kojin added. “We never planned on carrying through with a siege. That’s why we spent those ten days bolstering the defenses rather than stocking the palace with food.”

“Are you saying we’re going to retreat?” Shohi asked.

Kojin nodded.

“Our enemy began with thirty thousand troops, but they lost many of them in today’s attack. Meanwhile, we’ve been reinforced with thirty thousand fresh troops. A head-on strike could shatter them. Even if we can’t break the enemy, we can get you to Ju or Tei where you’ll be surrounded by allies. Then, we can plan a counter-strike.”

“What are the odds that the enemy has more than thirty thousand men? If they outnumber us, we’ll be at a disadvantage, won’t we?” Shohi asked.

“You’re correct,” Kojin grumbled. “What we know for certain is that the chief general leads Annei’s imperial garrison, which numbers thirty-two thousand men. We don’t have any reason to believe they have more than that. But as you mentioned, there’s a possibility they have troops we haven’t accounted for. Remember, our enemy is Ho Shusei.

“But while Shusei is definitely a shrewd man, we can’t afford to take our time deciding,” Kojin continued, his tone firm. “Giving the enemy time to regroup from today’s losses is a bad strategy. And if we let our troops weaken, then even if we do fight with equal numbers, we’ll be at a disadvantage. A single day without food can create a clear difference in combat ability.”

Rimi didn’t know much about warfare, so she was lost amidst all the strategic discussion. But one thing seemed clear to her. If they were going to fight their way out of the palace, the coming morning would be their only chance. Considering the food situation, a long siege was impossible. As Renka had said, staying in the palace without the expectation of a massive reinforcing army would be suicidal.

Shohi turned his gaze outside and thought in silence for a while. He closed his eyes, as if listening to the raindrops as they fell from the eaves. Eventually, he opened his eyes again and turned to Kojin.

“It’s clear we only have one way forward. With Shusei as our enemy, that path is dangerous. But staying in the palace with no further strategy is not an option. If we have a chance of victory now, then we need to seize it. Understood?”

Kojin, Renka, and Rihan each met Shohi’s gaze. From their expressions, each gave a clear vote of approval.

“Tomorrow morning, our entire army will leave the palace. Prepare horses and carriages so we can get the four consorts, the palace women, and the eunuchs to safety,” Shohi ordered.

“I approve,” Kojin said. “I believe we should have the entire army push out from the north. The enemy will be unable to know for certain whether we’ll hold the siege or attack, so they’ll likely spread their troops evenly around the palace. With an overwhelming advantage in numbers, I believe we’ll be able to penetrate their defenses, go around Mount Bi, and cross the wasteland to the Red River. If we follow the riverbanks north, we’ll be near Ju.”

Shohi’s expression hardened.

“Kojin, Renka, Rihan. Prepare to set out at first light,” the emperor commanded.

The chancellor and ministers bowed and departed. After working out a more detailed plan, they would brief the soldiers and make preparations to leave.

The escape would already be difficult, but they also had to make plans to evacuate the bureaucrats, consorts, palace women, and eunuchs.

Hakurei slipped off of the bed, and Shohi turned to scold him. However, the eunuch bowed and spoke before the emperor could complain.

“As director, I can’t afford to lay around in a situation like this. Surely you realize that, Your Majesty?”

“But—”

“The director’s duty is to manage the rear palace. If I don’t prepare things for the women and eunuchs here, who will?” Hakurei said with a sly smile. “Don’t worry, Your Majesty. I can handle it.”

Shohi appeared defenseless in the face of Hakurei’s smile and kind voice. Though he seemed a bit unhappy about it, the emperor nodded his assent.

“I’ll be off then,” Hakurei said before departing.

“Can he really not see?” Jotetsu asked, watching the eunuch depart with admiration. “If he’s able to carry himself like that while just relying on shadows and shapes, that’s impressive.”

“Master Jotetsu, I’m amazed you could tell there was something strange about his movements,” Rimi said.

Nobody else had noticed anything, but Jotetsu had said he’d felt something was off. It was extraordinary.

“That guy’s always been a little unsteady on his feet, so I’m not surprised nobody noticed. But when you’ve been trained in martial arts, you notice when people change the way they move. Those kinds of deeply ingrained habits don’t change unless there’s something wrong with your body,” Jotetsu explained. “Anyway, the fox seems eager to get to work. I suppose I should do my job too.”

The spy turned to Shohi and bowed.

“Your Majesty, I’m going to see Kyo Kunki,” he continued. “He and I need to decide where you’re needed and how we’re going to protect you when we push out tomorrow.”

“Good. Take care of it,” Shohi ordered.

Jotetsu answered him with a confident grin before leaving.

As the room grew quiet, the sound of raindrops seemed to grow louder, filling the space.

Tomorrow, even the four consorts will have to leave the palace walls.

The distant sounds of war had been enough to make Rimi tremble. She could only imagine how terrifying it would be to set out onto a battlefield. But cowering in the rear palace would cost them their lives. The consort needed to steel herself.

Shohi, apparently reading the tension on Rimi’s face, approached her. He placed a hand on her cheek.

“Are you scared?” he asked.

“Honestly...a bit. But we can’t hesitate right now,” Rimi replied. “We’re all going with you. When the war is all over, I just want to have a nice cup of tea with the four consorts.”

“‘When the war is over,’ eh?” Shohi asked. He stared intensely into Rimi’s eyes as if he could see something there.

“Your Majesty?”

“I’ve been pondering something since before the fighting broke out. When the war is over, I believe we need to rethink your position.”

Rimi tilted her head curiously. She wanted to ask what he meant, but the emperor seemed to be thinking hard about something, so she stayed silent.

“I chose you as my empress because I wanted you. Even now, I love you. The way you smile when you cook makes me so happy. But I’m beginning to think that doesn’t have to go hand in hand with you being empress,” Shohi explained. “I’m starting to wonder if I made a mistake in wanting to wed you. It’s lucky we haven’t completed the enthronement ceremony yet. I’d like to fix things.”

He wanted to rethink her position as empress-to-be. In other words, he didn’t want her as his empress?

Rimi was a bit shocked...yet not surprised.

When Kojin had brought up the idea of producing an heir, Shohi had said he couldn’t imagine having a child with Rimi. Perhaps that was his way of keeping her away from his scheme, but after saying it, he’d seemed puzzled himself. If it had actually just been a convenient thing to say, it shouldn’t have affected him in that way.

The more His Majesty thinks and learns about himself, the more he grows as a person.

As the emperor reflected on the nature of his attachment to Rimi, he seemed to have realized something was wrong and now wanted to fix it. There was something emboldened about him, like a young sapling growing strong in summer.

“I understand, Your Majesty,” Rimi said, unable to keep from smiling.

“Why are you smiling? The idea of losing your position doesn’t concern you?” the emperor asked.

“It’s strange, but no. Not at all. I trust you.” Suddenly, Rimi’s stomach groaned loudly. She placed her hands on her belly to quiet it in embarrassment. “Ah! I’m sorry! Now that I think about it, I haven’t eaten since lunch.”

“We strike out at dawn. You should eat something,” Shohi said. He grinned and patted her cheek. “Go.”

The warmth of his palm felt like it embraced her in calm security, embodying the feeling of her complete trust in him.

As Rimi headed down the walkway leading to the kitchen, she saw the four consorts running toward her. They were moving unusually quickly with none of their usual focus on keeping up appearances. There was no word for their expressions. They bordered somewhere between happiness and anger.

“Lady Setsu! We just heard from Hakurei! His Majesty is awake?!” On asked breathlessly with a smile.

“Who cares if he’s awake! You’re telling me he was faking?!” So asked angrily, pushing past On. “How could he do something so awful?! We’ve lost years of our lives worrying about him!”

“I have to give him a piece of my mind!” Yo shouted, waving her fist in the air.

Ho, who’d been following the other three from behind, smiled weakly.

“Come on, go easy on him. Like Hakurei and I said, there were extenuating circumstances,” the Virtuous Consort said.

The other three all turned back and fired a sharp glare at Ho.

“Oh, you’ll have your turn!” they cried out in unison.

Ho winced, and Rimi gave her a sympathetic look. She then offered a bow to the other three consorts.

“I was tricked as well. Please, say something on my account too.”

That seemed to embolden the angry consorts, who puffed out their chests and charged forward.

“His Majesty will just have to take their tongue-lashing in stride. I’ll have to do the same, I suppose,” Ho said with a resigned shake of her head.

“So you knew about Master Hakurei?” Rimi asked.

“Yes. He said there was no one else he could think of to rely on. When I heard what he was doing and saw the state he was in, I decided to help,” Ho explained. “I can’t believe he’d do something so idiotic. His career will suffer for it. He’ll suffer for it, I’m sure.”

Rimi could see the pain in Ho’s eyes.

“You’re not angry with Master Hakurei anymore?” she asked.

“Angry? Far from it,” Ho answered with a sudden smile. She leaned in close to whisper in Rimi’s ear. “I love him.”

Rimi looked at Ho in shock, but the Virtuous Consort simply replied with a smile, brimming with pride before casually walking away.

Despite her fear of what the morning would bring, Rimi felt as if a warm flame had been lit within her heart.

To think things like this are happening now of all times. No, I suppose these are the sorts of times when everything starts to happen.

Rimi could tell her own fate was starting to shift as well.

II

When the war was over, Rimi would no longer be a candidate for empress. Yet for some reason, she didn’t feel the sense of unease she’d had during Aisha’s visit.

After arriving at the Palace of Northern Peaks’s kitchen, Rimi lit the oil lanterns placed in hollows within the kitchen pillars. As she approached a stove, she found that it still had some live embers. She worked to build them into a fire, then crouched in front of the stove to idly watch the flames slowly grow.

I’m not going to be empress. I don’t know where I’ll end up. Still, I feel calm.

Perhaps the consort had changed somehow too.

“Oh? It seems I’m not the first one here,” Hakurei called from the kitchen entrance.

Rimi turned around to see the eunuch with a hand against one of the kitchen pillars. As he walked toward Rimi with his usual swaying gait, she could see him run his hands along pillars, walls, and tables to check where he was. He must have gotten around like that ever since the poison had started to affect his eyesight but simply had such an elegant way of doing it that nobody had noticed.

“Master Hakurei? What are you doing in the kitchen?”

“Not looking for the Quinary Dragon, I assure you,” he quipped. “I just wanted something to eat.”

Their first meeting had been in a kitchen. At the time, Hakurei had been searching for the Quinary Dragon, who’d escaped him.

“I’m hungry too. I was thinking of making some porridge,” Rimi said.

“Is that right? Shall I make you some, then?”

“You?!” Rimi exclaimed, her eyes widening in surprise.

“Since becoming a eunuch, I’ve had to come to the kitchen on occasion. I can handle making some porridge.”

“But—”

Hakurei approached Rimi and interrupted her by gently placing his hand on her shoulder.

“You do nothing but cook for others. Someone should cook for you once in a while,” he said.

Rimi had never even considered having someone else cook for her. But now that she thought about it, she didn’t have much experience getting to indulge in food prepared by others. She wanted to try eating something Hakurei made. The consort wondered how it would taste.

“Are you sure? You don’t mind?” she asked.

“Go sit at a table and wait,” he replied.

Apparently, all Hakurei could really see were vague shapes. Even so, he managed to use his slender fingers to effortlessly identify ingredients and utensils. Sure enough, he seemed familiar with the kitchen.

Hakurei procured dried scallops from the storeroom, which he soaked in water. He washed some rice and put it in a pot along with the scallops in the same water he’d used to rehydrate them. The pot bubbled. He added a pinch of salt and removed the pot from the stove. It was an extremely simple method of preparing porridge, but he seemed skilled at it.

The eunuch brought the pot to Rimi’s table and filled a bowl for her. He laid a spoon alongside her bowl.

“Enjoy,” he said.

Afterword

Hello everyone! Miri Mikawa here. Our story is finally starting to draw to a close. The truth is, I actually tried to end it with this volume, but I just couldn’t fit everything in, so it’ll end with the next one. I already have the first draft finished. I can’t believe we’re finally here.

To my editor: sorry for being such a nuisance since summer. I apologize for all the confusion I create, and I’m probably going to keep causing trouble for you. I hope you’ll bear with me.

To Kasumi Nagi, my illustrator: Hakurei was absolutely beautiful on the cover of the last volume! I fell head over heels for him. I utterly adore the idea that I get to work with you on one more book. Let’s see this out to the end.

To my dear readers: While I can’t tell you when exactly the final volume will be out, I hope you’ll keep an eye on the Beans Bunko homepage and Twitter. I’ve actually started tweeting myself. I’d been getting a lot of letters saying it was hard to get information about when things were being published, but I’d been trying to avoid social media because I’m terrible at it. So it’ll probably just be a source of information as I won’t be tweeting much. Even so, I hope you’ll check it out. It’ll probably come up if you search for Miri Mikawa online.

So here we are. Ten volumes. I never would’ve made it this far without you readers. Truly, thank you so much! With just one volume left, I’d love it if you stuck around to see how things unfold.

Miri Mikawa