Whispers, Words, and Wary Glances
On the third day of the Festival of Glittering Tears, known as the "Day of Renewal," Daiyu found herself once again seated at a low, elongated table, sharing a traditional breakfast with Esteem Nam, her mother—the eighth consort—and her younger brother, the sixth prince, Balem. The aroma of steaming soups, sizzling fish and meat stews, and freshly sliced fruits filled the room. Amid the backdrop of the bustling servants carrying ornate trays and refilling tea cups.
Daiyu was attired in a deep red, wide-sleeved blouse paired with a flowing midnight blue skirt. The skirt was cinched at the bustline with black satin ribbons and accentuated by a shimmering scarf adorned with elegantly embroidered red tigers stalking through tall golden grass; the scarf gracefully entwined itself around her arms.
"Daiyu, don't you wish to wear something more native for today's gathering?" her mother gently prodded, her eyes lingering on Daiyu's non-traditional ensemble. Suppressing a sigh of adolescent exasperation, Daiyu measured her response.
"Meaning no disrespect, Lady Consort, I do prefer to wear the garments of my homeland on a day as significant as today," Daiyu replied, observing her mother's expression tighten with subtle disapproval.
Esteem Nam, pausing from savoring a spoonful of fish stew, interjected, "Aming, my love, I find Daiyu's choice of attire quite charming and light-hearted. The traditional garb most of you have to endure today seems rather stifling. I must say, it almost pains me to see you all this way."
As he spoke, his eyes briefly flitted to his consort's traditional Quinmay ensemble a customary outfit of intricate and layered, beginning with a belly band and elongated satin trousers for undergarments, elements that Daiyu had incorporated into her own attire. Following this base layer, women traditionally donned a short-sleeved underdress made of thick, vibrantly colored fabric. This was then overlaid with a heavily pleated dress featuring snug, long sleeves, capped off by a short vest adorned with additional, billowing sleeves.
In contrast, Daiyu's chosen skirt consisted of three layers, each made from lightweight, flowing material that allowed her freedom of movement. The fabrics danced gracefully with her every step, offering not only comfort but also numerous concealed pockets for stowing away small weapons.
"You've hit the mark, my dear husband. Perhaps this consort harbors a touch of envy towards her daughter's aptitude for comfort and elegance." Zheng Ba Aming replied, her lips curving into a mischievous smile, followed by a sly wink. The man's cheeks warmed with a blush, a sight that made Daiyu subtly cringe, uncomfortable with her mother's playful coquetry.
*Can you truly continue your breakfast amidst such... displays?* Zalgras's voice echoed in her mind, tinged with a mix of amusement and disbelief.
*I'm mostly pushing my food about. It'd be a miracle if I even manage to finish my rice,* Daiyu silently confided to her ethereal companion.
*To be fair to the portly sovereign, your attire does seem vastly more comfortable and flattering than your mother's. Her dress appears to... accentuate certain 'feminine attributes' far more than they naturally are, while yours lends you an air of slender grace,* Zalgras observed, its tone dripping with intrigue.
*The accentuation of those 'feminine attributes' is the intention behind such designs, but with today's heat, wearing their customary garb would be insufferably stifling,* Daiyu mentally replied, her thoughts swirling with a mix of gratitude for her own attire and sympathy for those constricted by tradition
"Mother, sister's attire seems refreshing, doesn't it? It's a pity we can't merge the comfort of her fabric with the elegance of your style. It'd be so much more bearable in this scorching weather." Balem's innocent voice chimed in, drawing the room's attention. His comment, accompanied by an endearing smile, made his parents' eyes soften with affection.
As Daiyu observed him, the details of his attire stood out. Even though it was crafted from luxurious materials, Balem's clothing still retained the modesty of the monk robes he had adopted from the monastery. Daiyu knew after a brief conversation before the morning meal with the boy that he had wisely decided to lean into the events at the blessing ceremony and present a humble and pious appearance to the outside world. This would give his enemies fewer avenues to attack and him less to defend.
*He's astoundingly perceptive for his age,* Zalgras murmured in Daiyu's mind.
*Indeed,* Daiyu mentally replied, *his foresight and strategy at just five is commendable.*
Throughout their conversation, background murmurs of servants could be heard, with the delicate clinking of porcelain and the shuffling of feet. The aroma of freshly brewed tea wafted in the air, signaling the approach of Fa Sai. She gracefully refilled Daiyu's cup, ensuring she never lacked for refreshment. As the breakfast began drawing to a close, she subtly retreated to a shadowed corner, becoming nearly invisible, yet always vigilant.
As the morning meal concluded, Esteem Nam was gently settled into a lavishly decorated sedan chair, hoisted by a team of dedicated bearers. The sound of footsteps echoed rhythmically as the entourage descended three broad flights of stairs. Servants flitted about, straightening tapestries and setting out fresh flowers as they passed through the intricately designed hallways of the consort residence.
Upon reaching the east edge of the lush consort garden, a towering iron gate groaned as it was laboriously lifted, granting the royal family passage. Captain Chen offered a respectful bow in greeting to the Esteem and his small family of four.
"My lord Esteem, Eighth Consort Zheng, Prince Nam Cal Balem, Princess Yun," he intoned in his robust, dignified voice, "the royal family and Imperial Madam await your presence." They stepped into an expansive square adorned with stone tiles. To their left, a grand platform towered above, offering a panoramic view of the area below—a vibrant tableau filled with performance stages, elaborately set tables, and a bustling crowd eagerly awaiting the day's festivities.
"The Light and glory of the empire his royal highness The Esteem Nam has arrived!" Captain Chen announced loudly as the crowd knelt before the small group moving through them.
The family ascended the raised stone platform, an area made serene by the gentle splashing of water from the stone pond fed by a wall fountain. Plush chairs, arranged by rank and laden with fragrant teas, wines, and tempting snacks, sat beneath an elegantly designed canopy.
Upon their arrival, those seated rose in warm acknowledgment. The Imperial Madam, with her unmistakable golden hair and fierce golden eyes, sat poised and regal. Her robe, embroidered with threads of gold and white, flowed generously around her. Her short vest was embellished with intricate embroidery, depicting mythic creatures in a design that seemed to come alive. Her skirt, pleated in layers, gave off an impression of regal weightiness that only she could carry with such ease.
Beside her, the 1st Prince stood in a striking robe of deep red adorned with black, dragon-themed accents. His ornate belt featured a meticulously carved dragon, its eyes inlaid with tiny gems. The dragon motif continued in the form of embroidered serpents flowing down the back of his robe, each detail more intricate than the last.
Nam Na Xiulan, the 2nd Princess, appeared as delicate as before. Her silvery-blue eyes shimmered like teardrops against her robe of sky blue and white. The short vest she wore was embroidered with dainty flowers that seemed to sway in an imagined breeze, while her pleated skirt cascaded in heavy, but elegantly flowing, folds.
Adjacent to her, the 3rd Prince, Nam Ai Zephyr, looked every bit as rebellious and handsome in dark gray offset by maroon. His belt, unlike his elder brother's, sported a dragon carved in a style that suggested a youthful ferocity. His robe too bore dragon motifs, but in the form of slender, elongated creatures that seemed to be in mid-flight.
The youthful 4th Prince, Nam Ja Yazhu, radiated innocence in a white robe with pale yellow accents. His dragon belt was simpler in design, fitting for his tender years, but still masterfully crafted to accent his waif-like appearance.
The tiny 5th Princess, adorned in a playful pink robe accented with pale blue, caught everyone's eyes. Her vest showcased embroidered playful animals, and her skirt, pleated in a lighter style, bounced as she moved into her childlike version of a formal curtsey.
"Arise, for today is a day dedicated to renewal, generosity, and honoring those who served. Let us dispense with cumbersome formalities and instead pay tribute to the fallen who safeguarded our magnificent empire, enabling us to relish in its splendor," declared Esteem Nam, gesturing for the assembled crowd to stand.
Once seated, Esteem Nam departed from tradition, inviting the Eighth Consort to share a luxurious, double-width sofa with him. The cushions, embroidered with motifs of mythical creatures akin to those on the Imperial Madam's attire, seemed to envelop them in a silent welcome. A server placed before them a steaming pot of tea, its jasmine and chrysanthemum blend curling into the air, merging with the aromatic essence of incense that wafted from ornate bronze censers scattered around the space. The court's atmosphere vibrated with low whispers and the rustle of silk, like leaves stirred by an autumn breeze, heralding a day of inevitable significance.
With a nearly invisible nod, Esteem Nam gestured to Balem, his Sixth Prince who had recently earned the Maker's favor.
"Sit beside us, Balem," he declared softly but firmly, making eye contact and indicating the chair to his left.
Servants, garbed in understated hues, fanned out to rearrange the sumptuous table settings, their movements a choreographed ballet of grace and decorum. The muted sounds of porcelain touching porcelain and the soft swish of their shoes on the stone floor harmonized with the subdued chatter of courtiers, who discreetly exchanged words behind their ornate fans.
"Jing, you will sit to our right." Esteem Nam commanded, turning to Crown Prince Nam Tor Jing.
The Crown Prince, who had already risen, flowed to his assigned seat with an ethereal grace. The dragons embroidered on his robe seemed to flutter with life at each step he took. A servant delicately poured tea into his cup, the liquid barely quivering as it settled. Finally, Esteem Nam addressed his main wife, the Imperial Madam Song Val Měifēn.
"Please take the seat next to Tor Jing," he said, subtly motioning to the chair just vacated by the Crown Prince.
"As you desire, light of the empire," she responded her voice a veil of courtesy that barely masked a flicker of discontent in her golden eyes. Holding the Fifth Princess, she gracefully shifted to her reassigned seat. The morning sunlight shimmered upon her robe, momentarily animating the embroidered mythical creatures in a silent, luminous dance.
As the murmur of the court gradually receded, it left in its wake the soft tinkling of water from the stone fountain and the dulcet tones of a guzheng, its melody emanating from an unseen musician. The court seemed to hold its collective breath, each person settling into their seat amidst an atmosphere thick with pregnant expectation.
Largely overlooked, Daiyu took the opportunity to slip into a vacant chair in the back row, her eyes whimsically following the fish that swam within the fountain's pool.
*Daiyu, are you pondering the same chain of events I find intriguing?* Zalgras's mental voice unfurled in her mind, tinged with an urgency that contrasted sharply with the exterior serenity.
*Yes,* Daiyu's thoughts vibrated back, threaded with complexity. *The Esteem's decisions today seem like enigmatic pieces of a greater puzzle. Offering my mother, the Eighth Consort, a place beside him was a spectacle in itself. But the subsequent rearrangement involving the Imperial Madam, the Crown Prince, and Balem adds layers of implication.*
*Esteem Nam's actions are never frivolous,* Zalgras responded, a reverberating tone that seemed to mingle with the fragrant scents in the air.
*Indeed. The meaning of these actions could be a message to the Song family, the High Priest of the Church of the Maker, the Crown Prince, or even the whole court,* Daiyu contemplated. *Or perhaps, it's a multifaceted signal meant to ripple through each.*
*And what immediate effects do you predict?* Zalgras probed, its inquiry feeling like a brush against velvet.
*The Esteem's gestures prioritize my mother and Balem. The fifth princess, whom the Church is so keen to venerate, is sidelined. Given Balem's temple test, this places the Church in a delicate situation. The Esteem may or may not believe the results, but he's wielding them as a strategic piece in a greater game.* Daiyu's gaze returned to the spectacle unfurling below her, captivated by the intricate dance of commerce and performance.
An auction had sprung to life in the expansive courtyard, an arena of opulence and strategy. Elaborate canopies, decorated with flowing calligraphy and shimmering ornaments, provided shade for tables laden with awe-inspiring artifacts and luxuries.
People, draped in silks and jewels, meandered around these treasures, studying them with discerning eyes before submitting their silent bids. For the sake of fairness and a layer of intriguing anonymity, each participant, including members of the royal family, was assigned a unique identifier, an untraceable number.
Between the auction events stages were filled with the arts. Performers in iridescent costumes faces painted in ethereal designs, danced to the beat of hypnotic drums. Musicians with exotic instruments spun melodies into the air, filling it with a melodic excitement that challenged the boundaries of the everyday world. Nobility, enchanted by these performances, circled the artists, placing coins into ornate donation boxes.
*I need to accelerate our plans,* Daiyu continued. *Balem's profile is rising too quickly for my comfort. He needs to be distanced from this nest of intrigue to grow safely. Preparations for our journey south must commence soon.*
Zalgras emitted what felt like a mental hum, resonating with Daiyu's thoughts. At that moment, Daiyu gracefully rose, her movements flowing like water in a stream.
As Daiyu descended the grand staircase leading to the bustling courtyard below, her steps were as careful as they were deliberate, her heels barely making a sound against the elaborately carved stone. The crowd seemed to part slightly for her, a blend of subtle recognition and cautious curiosity in the air.
"Ah, the newest 'princess' graces us with her presence. How lovely." A voice broke through the cultured ambiance like the jarring clang of a misplaced gong.
Nam Na Xiulan, the Esteem's second princess, stood amidst a cluster of courtiers, her silver-blue eyes shimmering as they narrowed in a facade of delight. She appeared ethereal in sky blue and white, her light blue vest embroidered with delicate flowers that seemed to sway in an unseen wind. Her heavy pleated white skirt flowed elegantly around her, creating an almost celestial aura.
"Your descent is almost as measured as your ascent into the imperial family, isn't it?" Xiulan continued, flicking her fan open with a practiced flourish.
*When did she slither off the viewing platform?* Daiyu mentally berated herself for not keeping an eye out for potential annoyances.
*This one failed to notice as well, but rest assured, we'll keep tabs on her movements next time. She's a vexing presence,* Zalgras mentally concurred, seething with shared irritation. Turning to face the second princess, Daiyu's eyes were icy pools, even though her voice remained a placid lake.
"The same principle could apply universally, couldn't it? The speed at which one ascends is often directly proportional to the height from which one can fall." Xiulan's eyes momentarily flashed, thrown off by Daiyu's swift, stinging retort.
"Hmph, some of us haven't been elevated by mere convenience or second-marriage dalliances. My lineage has been untainted for generations," Xiulan fired back, visibly bristling, her posture swelling with poorly concealed indignation.
*Do these people just conveniently forget that your mother is a princess in her own right, a daughter of a formidable Esteem?* Zalgras's mental voice trembled with restrained fury.
*They prefer to remember her first marriage to my late father above all else, it seems,* Daiyu coolly thought back, unperturbed by Xiulan's clumsy provocations.
*Ah yes, being married to a master strategist and esteemed war hero is truly a blight on her character,* Zalgras mentally sneered. Daiyu could almost feel the psychic eye-roll from the symbiotic entity.
"Second marriages are akin to second editions of a book—often revised and improved," Daiyu said, her voice carrying a delicate but unmistakable chill. "And as for the purity of your lineage, Xiulan, let's not forget that purity of blood is no guarantee for purity of character. Or is your case a groundbreaking exception??"
*Oh is that because she is an unpure whore who has slept with at least five males? That's a good response!* Zalgras mentally applauded.
*I should have never taught you that word.* Daiyu grumbled back. While annoyed at Daiyu's composure and the sting of her words, Xiulan sought to land a sharper blow.
"I see. You have a way with words, how Taiharian of you. But then, it must be hard to capture the Esteem's favor with so many… distractions around." Xiulan sneered. Daiyu's gaze met Xiulan's head-on, her right eyebrow descending to underscore her expression of supreme indifference.
*Honsetly the number of bed partners says something greater about her father than your mother.It does beg the question: is such behavior hereditary?* Zalgras mused inwardly.
"If you're referring to the number of consorts and children vying for the Esteem's attention, worry not. Favor isn't gained by mere titles or proximity but by worth. I wonder how that equation works out for you, especially when most equations you're part of seem to have more than one unknown variable." Daiyu seemed to muse.
A collective gasp emanated from the surrounding courtiers as if the air had suddenly thinned. The atmosphere was electric, its tension palpable, pulling tautly around the dueling princesses. Xiulan's face flushed an unflattering shade, a jarring contrast to her otherwise ethereal attire, her eyes shrinking to furious slits.
"Words won't change the facts, Yun Val Daiyu. I'm still a princess by first marriage; you'll always be an outsider, a foreign blemish in this royal family." The princess was raging now and more courtiers were starting to whisper as the argument became more evident to the courtiers.
"You're correct, words won't change facts," Daiyu paused, "such as the universally acknowledged reason you're still neither betrothed nor wed at seventeen. But then, some facts are so self-evident, they don't need to be spelled out, do they?" For a moment, Xiulan appeared as though she had swallowed a thorn. Her fan snapped shut, and she took a calculated breath.
*Exactly whores are of no value! No one wants a used commodity, especially one with such a disagreeable personality. Her fate is to be bundled off to whoever is ignorant enough not to know her worth—or lack thereof. *Zalgras's words echoed in Daiyu's mind with a sardonic form of glee.
*I am never teaching you new words.* Daiyu replied with a mental sigh.
"You may have everyone else fooled with your eloquence, but you'll never belong here, no matter how articulate you are." The princess bellowed with an angry stomp of a small delicate heeled shoe that became visible with her frantic actions. Daiyu simply turned her gaze away and gave a dismissive shrug, as if swatting away a bothersome insect.
"Belonging is a matter of acceptance, not just from others but of oneself. When you figure that out, you'll realize that your real battle isn't with me, or anyone in this court. It's with yourself." With that, Daiyu moved gracefully into the festivities, leaving Xiulan amidst a cloud of unsettled whispers and unvoiced judgments.
*Will she follow?* Zalgras asked a bit hopeful for more drama.
*Unlikely. Her pride's too bruised, and she's aware that resorting to open hostility would only mar her image further. She'll probably just cry and seek an ill-advised champion to rally to her cause. I'm not worried though any man willing to get upset for her will be a weak fop.* Daiyu conveyed as her attention shifted to evaluating the various artifacts displayed for the silent auction.
*Oh 'fop'? What is the meaning of that word?* The creature's mental voice held a certain gleeful curiosity, like a child discovering new toys.
*You're going to be the death of me,* Daiyu sighed internally, gracefully navigating her way through the throng of courtiers.