Bright Spears and Hidden Arrows

As the night before the Festival of Glittering Tears descended upon the land, Daiyu found herself in her study, immersed in a meaningful task. Her nimble fingers worked diligently, crafting a lantern with great care and attention to detail. In the soft glow of candlelight, she painted an intricate image of a red tiger, its fierce fangs and razor-sharp claws brought to life on the surface.

In that moment, Zalgras, couldn't contain its curiosity any longer.

*How exciting, a carbon lifeform celebration, of the dead,* it remarked with a sarcastic tone. *Explain, why is everyone so excited about this Festival of Tears? Sounds quite macabre.*

Daiyu sighed, familiar with Zalgras' cynicism. However, she was determined to explain the true importance of the festival to her somewhat sardonic companion.

*The Festival of Glittering Tears is more than just a commemoration,* she began, her voice tinged with a mixture of seriousness and pride. *It is a three-day national event in Qinmay that pays tribute to fallen soldiers, regardless of whether they were our kin or not.*

*So, you really are throwing a party for beings whose energy has passed on?* Zalgras quipped, genuinely puzzled. Daiyu nodded, undeterred by Zalgras' sarcasm.

Daiyu's eyes sparkled as she began to explain the festival, her voice imbued with a mixture of nostalgia and respect. Her hands, meanwhile, never stopped working on the red tiger lantern. The intricate image of the tiger was taking shape under her skillful touch, each stroke a reflection of her devotion to the task before her.

*Yes, in a way. On the first day, known as the Evening of Remembrance, people clad in ceremonial robes pilgrimage to the graves of soldiers at about midday, carrying with them buckets, brushes, and fresh flowers. They clean the gravestones, whispering prayers and sharing memories. Family members and strangers alike take part.* Her fingers painted the tiger's eyes, imbuing them with a fierce determination that matched her own words. Her expression was gentle but earnest as she spoke.

Her concentration shifted grinding gold ink in a new tray. Her face reflected her profound respect for the tradition, her brow slightly furrowed in concentration, her lips parting slightly as she continued her explanation.

*As the sun begins to set, The Esteem, draped in traditional attire, stands at the Maker's altar, and he reads the names of high-ranking military men and others who served valiantly in past conflicts before they passed on.* Her eyes, momentarily fixed on the lantern, now gleamed with unshed tears as she selected a new brush, her mind thinking of all those she had fought beside, who never made it back to friends or family. Empty places around bustling tables that were never the same because of missing faces.

*Each name is a reminder of the valor and bravery that runs through the veins of their nation. For each name read, the high priest releases a lantern into the sky. The lanterns drift upwards, glowing embers against the darkening sky, symbolizing blessings for their journey to reincarnation.* Her voice remained steady, but there was a hint of tremor in it. She looked up, her face illuminated by the soft glow of the candlelight, her eyes deep and thoughtful.

*Across Qinmat, in villages and cities, families gather in their own homes, to release lanterns for their fallen ancestors. The soft glow of the lanterns reflects in the eyes of both young and old, a silent tribute to those who once were. Laughter and tears mingle, stories are shared, and the night sky becomes a tapestry of glowing memories. Hence the name 'Festival of Glittering Tears.'* The room was filled with a palpable silence, broken only by the gentle swish of Daiyu's brush, her hands gently traced the outline of red stripes with gold ink, her brush moving with a delicate precision that paralleled her tender words.

*So, it's like a big thank-you for those who fought?* it asked with a hint of understanding.

With each stroke of the brush, memories of her father, the mighty Bloody Tiger War God of Taihar, flooded her mind. He had been a formidable figure on the battlefield, a symbol of strength and valor to the people of Taihar. The lantern she was creating would be a tribute to his memory and a representation of the powerful legacy he left behind.

*Exactly. It's a time for us to show our gratitude and respect to those who have sacrificed their lives for our safety and freedom. The lanterns we release carry our hopes and wishes for them in the afterlife.* Daiyu smiled, glad that Zalgras was starting to grasp the deeper meaning.

*Hmm, I suppose that's not too bad,* Zalgras admitted grudgingly, its usual sarcastic demeanor giving way to a semblance of understanding.

*But why spread it over three days?* Daiyu leaned back, considering Zalgras' question thoughtfully.

*By dividing the events over three days and grouping them by theme, this reorganization provides a clearer understanding of the festival's significance. The first day is about remembrance, the second day is a celebration of peace and victories that came from battles, and the third day focuses on supporting families affected by war.* Zalgras hummed softly in Daiyu's mind, its curiosity now piqued rather than dismissive.

*I guess it's not all bad then. Humans do have some interesting ways of showing respect,* it remarked, a hint of genuine interest in its tone.

After completing the tiger's visage, Daiyu dipped her brush in a shimmering jar of golden ink once more. She paused for a moment, her heart heavy with emotion, as she delicately wrote her father's name on the lantern. His name, written with such grace, seemed to carry the weight of a thousand battles, a testament to the hero he had been.

*Indeed, every culture has its unique way of honoring its history and the ones who came before us.* Daiyu smiled at Zalgras' newfound openness.

*Do they celebrate the same festival in Taihar?* Zalgras inquired, its curiosity genuine this time.

*We have a similar celebration, though ours involves tournaments of martial prowess, Daiyu explained, her voice gentle. As a militant society, Taihar takes great pride in caring for our soldiers, current and former. We have a national fund to support widows and orphans, and we show great respect to clans that take in those left alone by war. Injured or retired soldiers are given jobs to support future generations, ensuring they are not forgotten but respected for their service till their end comes.*

*You honor Yun Ver Chao, even though he is not your father? What of the father you originally had?* The creature asked and the inquiry sent pain through Daiyu's heart, her tone more solemn as she responded.

*I have the memories of this body's childhood, I can no longer disconnect her emotions and experiences from my own, it is just a part of me as the memories of my past life. Though my original family died because of war were scholars of literature, not warriors. I will remember them and celebrate their lives it will just be at a different time.* Daiyu explained her feelings.

*And the other two lanterns then?* The atmosphere in the room grew heavier as Zalgras probed further, asking about the two other lanterns that Daiyu had crafted. Daiyu's gaze shifted to the smaller, simpler white lanterns, each bearing a delicate word printed on them – "Vanu" and "Shine." The memories of their faces, their camaraderie, and the day they were lost on the cold metal ship came rushing back.

*Vanu and Shine were warriors, brothers through my hardest days,* Daiyu said, her voice tinged with a mix of sorrow and pride. *This is the time to remember them.*

The creature fell silent, seemingly contemplating the depth of Daiyu's feelings and the weight of her memories. Daiyu, in turn, focused quietly on her work, pouring her heart and soul into the lanterns she was crafting.

As Daiyu finally finished her creation, she sat back in her chair, admiring the red tiger lantern alongside the white ones, each representing a different chapter of her life. The soft, ambient glow of the candles infused the room with a sense of tranquility, as if the spirits of her fallen comrades were present, watching over her.

*Not bad for a carbon lifeform tradition,* it remarked, its tone now tinged with respect. Zalgras, too, was touched, though it couldn't resist a hint of sarcasm.

***

As dawn broke on the first day of the Festival of Glittering Tears, the royal family of Qinmay and their entourage gathered at the entrance to The Church of the Maker's sanctum. The majestic temple loomed before them, with its intricate architecture and towering lion statues standing guard on either side. However, Daiyu couldn't help but feel a sense of unease as she remembered the dark secrets that lay within the Church's walls, the conspiracies that would come in the future leveled at her and her young brother.

The handsome blue-haired high priest, with his luminescent pale blue skin and brilliant gold eyes, greeted the royal family with a bow that concealed his hidden intentions. With a wave of his hand, the high priest instructed a chair to be brought for the Esteem, providing him with a comfortable seat to be carried by attendants.

"The Maker's blessings be upon you all. High Priest VAs Da Yaoki greets the holiest of families. Please, allow me to guide you on this sacred day." the handsome priest appeared to be a figure of great wisdom and devotion, but Daiyu knew better. Beneath the facade of reverence, the high priest had every intention of rigging the ceremony to fail Balem and label the young prince a heretic. The Church, was corrupt, and its leaders were hungry for power and control, and this man was their leader.

The Esteem seemed pleased with the priest's attentiveness, though he himself remained silent and respectful in this holy place, he allowed the attendance to settle him comfortably before the procession continued forward.

As the royal family began their ascent to the temple entrance, they couldn't help but notice the imposing building upon which the pagoda of the Church rested. A large gray stone brick "pedestal" with no windows, approximately the height of ten men, loomed beneath the temple. Daiyu couldn't help but feel that it symbolized the darkness and secrets that lurked within the Church's core.

As the entourage made their way inside the temple, Daiyu glanced back at Balem, the young prince with pale blue skin tinged with purple. His calm blue-silver eyes gave away nothing of the nervousness he may have felt. Today's test would decide his affinity and blessing with the Maker, but Daiyu couldn't help but worry that the corrupt Church would taint the results.

The grand doors of the temple opened to reveal a breathtaking sight. A balcony extended into a long bridge stretching toward the Altar of the Maker. But for Daiyu, the beauty of the scenery was overshadowed by the darkness that had engulfed the Church. She kept her emotions hidden as she walked alongside her mother the eighth consort, knowing that the true test for Balem would come later, in a ceremony that was anything but fair.

As they approached the Altar of the Maker, the high priest led them in a moment of prayer, but Daiyu couldn't help but feel a sense of hypocrisy in his words. Beneath the appearance of devotion, the high priest had already decided the fate of the young prince. The atmosphere was one of solemnity, but Daiyu knew that corruption and deceit lurked in the shadows.

As they reached the altar, the high priest paused, allowing the royal family a moment to collect their thoughts. Daiyu's heart was heavy with the weight of the impending injustice that awaited Balem. The Festival of Glittering Tears should have been a time of remembrance and gratitude, but the Church had twisted it into an opportunity to further its agenda and suppress those who dared to question its authority.

As the ceremony began, Daiyu stood near the entrance of the temple and the beginning of the bridge, with a clear view of the altar from below. The Esteem's chair was brought to rest, and he was forced to climb the narrow stairs to the top of the Maker's torch, where he leaned heavily against a railing and observed Balem and the High Priest approach the altar.

The mosaic canopy of gold and green glass shimmered above them, sheltering the altar and its circular scale. Three soft green prayer mats were laid out on a flat oak bench, each holding its significance in determining the Maker's blessing and affinity.

Balem approached the altar, he exuded an air of calm mixed with underlying nerves. His eyes, like silver pools, held a flicker of uncertainty, hidden well behind his composed demeanor. His formal court robes, draped with intricate designs, mirrored the ethereal hues of his skin.

With a solemn air, the high priest ascended a stone step and positioned himself on the central prayer mat. Balem stood by, calm yet anxious, ready to follow the priest's instructions. The ancient coin held by the high priest was placed spinning into the ancient brass bowl upon the altar, when it lay still it would indicate if Balem should sit to the left or right of the priest.

Amidst the ceremony, a sudden gust of wind billowed over the bridge, causing the court ladies' flowing robes to flutter like butterfly wings, and the men's formal court robes to sway gently, adding an air of unpredictability to the proceedings.

Unknown to the corrupt high priest and the temple, Daiyu, and Zalgras had already seen through the deception of the mechanism. As the ceremony commenced, Daiyu's face remained determined and calm, not even phased by the wind billowing her soft red and yellow dress around her, having complete faith that Zalgras could pull off what came next. The coin in the offering bowl indeed indicated for Balem to sit to the left of the priest.

*Zalgras?* Daiyu mentally asked, her anxiety showing only within her mind, as her face and stance betrayed no outward indications of her racing heart.

*I have control of both the scale and the energy pulses. I will stop them at four, just as you have recommended,* the creature's voice assured, with a hint of strain seeping into the tone as it focused its will. The group of pale ghost-like royals watched in anticipation as the boy settled to the left of the priest. Daiyu remained steadfast, her focus unwavering, as she trusted Zalgras to execute their plan. The glow in her sapphire eyes grew brighter, resonating with the power of the creature within.

For a moment, the large arrow shifted left, making Daiyu's heart sink and her adrenaline spike. However, to her immense relief, it slowly and steadily moved to the right with a soft echoing ticking sound. All eyes widened in shock, some narrowing in confusion while others burned with rage, as the arrow moved further and further until settling to the absolute right.

As the arrow settled in its new position, the star artifacts located before the right mat blinked, symbolizing the blessing bestowed upon Balem. Time seemed to slow as the blinking continued, four times, not the eight many of the royals and the priest had expected. Balem's new blessed name, Cal, meaning "hope," resonated with the Maker's divine presence, just as his new affinity showed he was in complete alignment with the Maker's will.

The wind kicked up again with another torrential updraft causing many of the court ladies to gasp and mutter. The high priest's face contorted in confusion, unable to comprehend the unexpected outcome. He attempted to intervene and adjust the scale, but the energy guided by Zalgras was beyond his control. The corrupted ceremony's deception had been thwarted.

Finally, the high priest stood his silken blue robes fluttering, his actions stunted, as his mind raced with what to say or how to proceed. This was unimaginable and too miraculous. His face contorted with rage and frustration as he face the altar his back towards the crowd, only the young boy saw the man's expression from the corner of his eye.

His face now seeming paler than eggshells, he turned and addressed the crowd of gathered royals and priests, his voice strong but wavering with uncertainty, as he had to announce how blessed the child was, and how divine his new blessing was.

The crowd erupted into a mixture of gasps, whispers, and bewildered looks, their minds trying to process the astonishing turn of events. As murmurs of disbelief spread like wildfire, the corrupt high priest found himself at a loss for words, unable to fathom the magnitude of what had just transpired.

In the history of the Church, people have come to be retested and the result is always just a bit more positive than their original reading. Never has their blessing changed nor has the scale shifted so dramatically as it had for Balem.

When Balem underwent his initial test as an infant, the scale marked his affinity almost completely to the left, branding him as cursed. His blessing, "Se," indicated he was 'cunning', leading the Esteem to send him away from the capital. However, now he stood before them as the most blessed child of the Maker, bearing the name "Cal Balem," the embodiment of 'hope' bestowed by the Maker herself.

The high priest, his face a mix of astonishment and uncertainty, cleared his throat as he addressed the gathered crowd. The murmurs and whispers subsided, replaced by an expectant silence that seemed to hang heavily in the air.

"My fellow believers, today we have witnessed a true miracle!" He began, his voice carrying a weight of seriousness and awe, a tremble of something unknown lacing its undertone. "In the presence of the Maker's divine will, the outcome of this blessed ceremony has taken an extraordinary turn."

He paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts, trying to find the right words to convey what had transpired. The crowd leaned in, their eyes fixed on the high priest, eager to hear his explanation.

"The young prince once known as Yun Se Balem shall be henceforth known as Yun Cal Balem, now known as Cal, has been blessed by the Maker herself. His affinity with the deity is nothing short of miraculous," he continued, his voice steady, though tinged with wonder. "As the scale moved to the absolute right, it is evident that the Maker has chosen him as a vessel of hope, a symbol of the future she envisions for our beloved Qinmay."

A mix of gasps and murmurs spread through the gathering, disbelief, and astonishment etched on the faces of the royals and attendees. Some looked to one another, seeking confirmation that they had indeed witnessed this profound revelation.

"The Maker's blessings transcend human expectations and the limitations of our rituals," the high priest proclaimed, his voice growing resolute. "Her divine guidance has revealed the true essence of hope and the promise of a brighter tomorrow. Let us embrace this revelation with open hearts and minds, for it is a sign of the Maker's boundless love for her people."

The crowd listened in rapt attention, captivated by the high priest's words and the significance of the moment. The corrupt veil that had tainted the ceremony had been lifted, replaced by the pure light of the Maker's will.

"As we continue with the Festival of Glittering Tears, let us remember the true purpose of this sacred event. It is not merely a time of remembrance, but a celebration of the resilience and strength of our people, and the hope that lives within each of us," he proclaimed, his voice ringing with his false conviction. The crowd erupted into applause and cheers.

*He really can lie with such a straight face, he is almost able to hide that the words must taste like manure coming from his mouth.* Zalgras interrupted mentally as Daiyu watched Balem stand and face the crowd.

*It is indeed a remarkable skill.* Daiyu agreed her eyes narrowing sharply.

With these words, the ceremony concluded, and the Esteem announced a celebratory banquet in honor of the young prince on the festival's third day, signifying his own 'renewal' witnessed by the Maker herself.

Daiyu harbored a touch of disappointment for being unable to partake in the remaining activities of the royal family. It meant she wouldn't have the chance to speak privately with her brother until she gained access to the palace on the festival's third day, rather than later the same day. However, her status as an honorary family member prevented her from attending unless specifically summoned by the Esteem.

So she returned to her estate to handle more private matters.

****

Following the ceremonial closure, High Priest Va Da Yaoki trailed the imperial procession off the temple grounds, his contingent of priests and acolytes falling in line behind him like shades in the afternoon sun. Once the retinue had vanished from sight, the high priest's meticulously composed countenance dissolved into an unbridled torrent of fury, as if a tempestuous storm had erupted within his very being.

"What in the Depths just transpired! Investigate every iota of this and unearth the means by which that wretched brat thwarted the test. The scale, our very tool of control, has never betrayed our intentions before!" The High Priest's voice roared like a tempest, causing his underlings to crumble to their knees, awash with dread.

"As you have ordained, your will is the Maker's design and action!" the group responded, their voices quaking in resonance with their leader's wrath, as he turned away from them, striding purposefully towards the building's right flank. An almost imperceptible trail etched into the well-tended lawns of the Church's courtyard guided his steps. He surged ahead, coming upon a section of the stolid brick foundation. His palm slammed against it, triggering an immediate depression. The secret portal opened with a grating scrape, revealing a passage to darkness, dimly illuminated by the flicker of candles.

Entering this shadowy enclave, he leaned against the now-sealed entryway, his breaths ragged, a reflection of his inner turmoil. His meticulously constructed plan had faltered. The scale, a prop so trusted, was meant to unambiguously brand the prince as a dire adversary to the Maker and all things divine. This was to clear the path for the elevation of the girl, Nam Da Ari, into the role of a saintess.

Da Ari was of a ripe age to comprehend rudimentary directives. She stood at the precipice of being a malleable instrument, sculpted according to his careful machinations. However, the events of the day had thrown a wrench into the machinery of his grand design. His beautifully crafted schemes had been bruised, a sudden delay necessitated, the painstaking tapestry of years unraveling. It all needed careful reweaving and adjustment, delaying his goals further.

A clenched fist met the brick wall with a thud, a palpable pain rippling through his knuckles. Blood welled, slowly oozing, as he stood there, his body tense, before plunging further into the depths of the Church's labyrinthine corridors.

The cacophony of agonizing screams reached his ears, the haunting melody of human torment echoing in the obscurity around him. His body found an unusual solace in this macabre tune, the perverse allure of suffering washing over him amidst the wavering shadows. A subtle curl adorned his lips, a sinister expression mirroring his twisted satisfaction as the ambiance of his own private dungeon washed over him.

All would be well. He could rectify this setback. He simply needed to orchestrate the prince's demise with more meticulous precision. He had managed to remove the child from the equation once before, although the act hadn't garnered the permanence he had initially planned. However, destiny had offered him another chance. The boy's unexpected return to the heart of the Capital provided the perfect opportunity to conclude what should have been executed the moment that loathsome halfbreed was born.

The tide of his ascendancy was imminent. He could feel it in the marrow of his bones. The ultimate dominion over the Empire was poised to be within his grasp. He just needed to make a few adjustments first.