CW: Explicit language, mentions of vomiting.
“If I vomit, I’m gonna vomit all over you,” Rin groans, squeezing his eye closed when the car makes another sharp turn. A sickly green tinges his cheeks and he’s drenched in cold sweat - the very image of pure suffering.
Jun reaches over Rin to wind down his window for him, letting in a thin stream of warm air. There’s a sun-baked scent to it, the harsh chafe of the desert. “Just keep looking at the horizon, Rinnie. Initially, it is common to have motion sickness, but you will eventually become accustomed to this mode of travel.” He sweeps his palm over the raven’s clammy forehead, pushing back his loose hair. “There is not a faster way to travel, I’m afraid.”
At the front of the vehicle, Zev drives the car with speed and precision, his every turn acute and calculated. Beside him in the passenger’s sits the First Lord Hwan Sun, who reclines with elegance in his official court wear - a dark navy haori with layers of white and blue robes beneath. Upon his sock-clad feet are wooden geta sandals, a preferred regional style for the Blue Plains.
Zev wears a robe of a simpler cut, his colour is a dark stormy grey, chosen to keep him unnoticed and humbled beside his lord. It doesn’t escape the first lord’s notice, how well it sits upon his manservant’s athletic frame, accentuating his toned form with a refinement that the Northern suits could never effuse. And there’s the teasing slack in Zev’s collar that exposes his delicate collarbone. The beautiful line of his neck. The prominent jut of his pearl…
“It is befitting,” Sun says quietly, turning his gaze out his window.
“My lord?” Zev’s glance is fleeting, but it’s enough to notice the warm bloom in the lord’s usually pallid cheeks.
“...my son’s courtwear. Is it not?”
His knuckles turn white around the wheels. “Ah. Yes, of course, my lord. Very befitting.”
Rinnie silently agrees, slumping back with a strained huff. In fact, Jun is a far more effective remedy for his sickness than the horizon. The fifth lord’s courtwear is a facsimile of his father’s, albeit for the softer blues of his robes that is more reminisce of River Wine. With his hair neatly pushed back from his eyes and his ever graceful bearing, he appears every bit of the noble lord he is.
Rin can’t help but linger on those generous lips. They seem so meltingly soft, accentuated by the nascent morning sun. With sweaty hands, he idly gathers the front of his own robes, which is moreso in the style of Mianshu, Healer Wu’s home region.
Under the pretense of clearing out his wardrobe, the old Healer gifted his patient a beautiful set of perfectly fitted robes made from the fine, high fibre cotton. The sweet powder blue hues of the blouse and the four-piece skirt cinches at his slim waist with a cream silk sash. It's exceedingly flattering upon the raven, but he seems quite uneasy in such a dress.
Just thinking about the cost of these clothes is enough to turn his stomach. What should happen if he ruins them? Rips them? Would that lower the value? And what does Healer Wu want from him exactly? He’s unused to being gifted things without expectation, and his instincts refuse to believe in the old man’s simple goodwill.
“Rinnie, relax. You look fine.” Jun smiles at his anxious friend, resting his hand briefly over Rin’s, the latter twisting the hem of his skirt with increasing fervour. “Healer Wu has a very good eye.”
“Why would he spend so much money on me anyway?” Rin hisses, shooting the lord a narrow look. “He's barely spoken to me.”
“Hm. I think he has taken a liking to you,” Jun draws back his hand, resting it upon his knee. “Of all his patients, you have complained the least under his care, despite the severity of your injuries. After years of working in the High District…” There’s a twitch of the lips. “I daresay he very much enjoys the reprieve.”
Rin wrinkles his nose in incredulity, but he supposes it makes for a proper reason. Regardless, the uneasiness continues to gnaw at his churning stomach. “Why am I going to the palace anyway?” he asks Jun in a low voice.
“I should very much like you by my side, especially since Mira has been ordered to oversee estate affairs. Actually, my father was rather agreeable with my request. Moreso than expected.” He pauses, glancing down at his own hands. They pinch together. “...I also thought I should share this part of myself with you. It is a significant portion of what I do. Of who I am expected to be.”
The Rat clicks his tongue in faux irritation. “You owe me, little lord.” Warmth blooms when he sees the other’s dazzling smile.
They travel through the Blue Plains, home of the royals and their state-wide grounds, the palace alone the size of a city bigger than Hanjuyang. The Blue Plains is called thus for during storms, the desert is overturned by the hurricanic winds to reveal the beguiling, royal blue sands below.
It’s a long ride, taking a good several hours. By the time they reach the palace, the sun is already low in the cloudless sky like an overripe fruit, heavy on the branch. During the ride, Jun explains the palace and its workings, filling Rin in on the intricacies and etiquettes of the court.
At first, it appears to be a tyrannous mountain, far larger than Aran with strange metallic sheens and odd shaped rocks jutting out like broken cliffs. It’s not until they draw near that Rin realises it is in fact, the palace itself.
The mountain is surrounded by the tallest wall the raven’s ever seen. Having taken two generations to build, it casts an impressive figure in this colossal display. Though it’s manned by hundreds of guards at any given time, Jun mentions things like flood lights, alarms, and cameras, though these ancient technologies only exist within the periphery of Rin's knowledge.
The Imperial palace and the surrounding region is built like a cake, with the bottom layer being the most expansive. This is where the royal orchards, fields, and farms are located. The pretty patterns of freshly turned soil and thriving crops gives the illusion of a patchwork plate upon which the cake sits.
The second layer is the barracks and command post of the Royal Guards, thousands of dedicated warriors training in the arenas like tiny ants, sunlight glancing off their armour and sending a lapis glow throughout the entire area.
Above that is the residential area for the workers and their families, hundreds of houses sprawling across this layer, a complete town with its own market and institutions.
And then, there are the palace grounds with stables holding the finest horses in all four territories. Beside that is the garage that contrarily house a fleet of vehicles salvaged and restored to a pristine state. The outer ring of this layer is the sprawling and luxurious imperial gardens. Here one can find the rarest of flora with trees taller than buildings from the Last Cycle and grass the deepest viridiscent - an oasis in the desert. Thickets of trees, home to populous fauna, are the hunting grounds for the Imperial family’s pleasure. And in the secretive clearings, hot and cold springs rich in minerals to refresh and heal oneself in.
And of course, the Imperial Palace itself. It’s accessible up three thousand steps, which can be surpassed with an authorised vehicle via a private road. Jun explains that anyone who visits the palace for the first time must climb these stairs as a sign of deference to the Mother. Upon seeing the look on Rin’s face, the lord promises to climb the three thousand steps with him.
Even from the desert, Rin can see the colossal estate of the palace. Several towering buildings the colour of the purest snow. Jun explains that at night, one can see the palace from afar, appearing like a beacon in the sea. This is intentional. The palace must be seen at all times as a reminder of the Mother’s omniscient presence. While Jun makes the reason seem benign, it sends a chill down Rin’s spine.
The decoration atop this monstrous cake is the Mother herself, standing at two hundred feet and glistening like the morning dew. She has her hands swept out the sides, her head slightly tilted and bowed, as if she were a mother waiting to embrace her child. It’s ghastly and an attest to the Mother’s eternal ego.
As the Governor and his manservant drive to the palace, the boys make their arduous journey up those three thousand steps. It might have only taken them half an hour, but Rin is wholly out of shape. Spending weeks with rich foods and little exercise has caused a severe drain on his stamina, so it takes almost twice as long. By the time they reach the top, Jun’s practically carrying the floppy raven. And while the lord has barely broken out in sweat, Rin is gasping like a fish out of water.
A rather stuffy looking man is waiting for them within the palace grounds, checking a pocket watch with an impatient scowl. When the boys approach, his face quickly settles into impassivity, though there’s no hiding the disdain when his beady eyes land upon the Rat.
“Fifth Lord Hwan Jun,” the man says, shrilly. “You were expected in the meeting hall exactly fifteen minutes ago. Unfortunately this means that you will not have any time to freshen yourself.” The man’s shrew stare pointedly lands on Rin as he says the last and the raven returns with a sharp look of his own.
“My sincere apologies, Secretary Ishii,” Jun says, dipping his head politely. “I had some difficulty with the stairs, so it took longer than expected.”
Ishii sighs and beckons them to follow. “No matter, no matter,” he says, shortly. “You are late and have no time to dally. Please, if my lordship and his servant will follow me.”
“Rin is my guest and companion, Secretary,” Jun corrects him firmly, though his smile is as gentle as a spring’s breeze.
The Secretary balks at Rin, beady eyes flitting over him in silent appraisal. They linger on the wounds on his face and flinch narrow in repulsion. A steady hand rests upon the youth’s tense back, keeping him calm and reassured.
Ishii huffs sharply through his nose and says disingenuously, “My apologies. If my lordship and his companion will follow me.” Spinning on his heels, the disgruntled man starts off into the belly of the grounds, not bothering to ensure that they are indeed following.
He leads them past so many buildings that Rin soon loses any sense of direction. They pass by palace officials, workers, and servants, all who acknowledge Jun with smiles and courteous bows. None regard the raven with any more consideration than dog shit stuck to the young lord’s geta. Seems like the Hwans have quite a reputation with the upper echelons of society.
How powerful is the Governor? Rin wonders silently, scowling as a pompous Minister visibly flinches at the sight of the disfigured raven. And Jun will inherit all that power. The very thought raises bumps along his arms, as if he were gripped by a sudden chill.
Eventually, the winding path opens up to a cast open hall, an ebony wood platform with a sloping black roof and blanch inlay. A curtain of what appears to be delicate glass beads hide and distort a regal figure sitting in lotus position upon a dais. Before them sits the Governor and several puffed up officials at a long, low table. There are two vacant zabutons beside Sun. Ishii gestures for the boys to sit, before withdrawing with a bow.
Upon the table is an array of light snacks and exotic fruits, as well as watered down wine that’s kept ice cold in buckets of snow. During the journey, Jun had mentioned that winter does not touch the Blue Plains, so snow has to be regularly transported to keep things cool. Rin silently marvels, thinking that the snow here might have survived a thousand mile trip without melting, simply to keep a palace official’s wine at a palatable temperature.
Said officials seem to be in the middle of a serious discussion and none pay much attention to the boys as they take their seats.
“His claim is tenuous, Your Majesty,” an official with heavy jowls harrumphs. “There is no indication that the rebels are already coordinating after our reclamation of Abrijan, which as you know was a most triumphant campaign--”
“Minister Yanu, if you dazzle your senses with gems how could you expect to see the moon?” The Governor's voice is full of humour, though it does little to hide his sharp tongue. “We must not claim victory if the war is not yet over. The rebels are not only gathering force but they have already struck the Western border towns. Four nights ago they took the town of Reshun, which gave them hundreds more to enforce their numbers.”
“How does Lord Hwan know that this attack was done by the rebels and not rogue mercenaries?” the second official raises, her skin sallow and eyes like a rabbit’s, big and flighty, rimmed with red.
“Minister Tahli’s question is reasonable. However, if you had read the latest report made by the Administrative Division, you would know that it is indeed the colour red that flies above Reshun.”
“Preposterous!” Yanu roars, throwing a hammy fist down upon the table. Plates jump and wine spills.
“If Minster Yanu would like to read the report as well, I have it with me-”
“Hwan Sun! This is fear-mongering! The Esteemed Mother is indomitable while those rebel scum are no more than vultures feeding on the scraps. You have let yourself be cowed by these crown traitors--”
“I will be taking over the Ministry of Military Affairs at the end of this year, Minister Yanu. Think I would spread misinformation that would jeopardise not only myself and the Ministry, but also my people? This is not a matter of conjecture, Minister, but hard fact. If you would only read the report you refuse to give any attention to, then you would know this already.”
“Mind your tongue, Hwan Sun! You may be her Imperial Majesty’s favoured, but you are not yet made Minister--”
“Quiet.”
The voice is soft, hardly above a whisper, yet it rings like a bell in the dead of night.
Yanu immediately clamps his mouth shut and sits back, throwing a glare at the serene Governor.
“Hwan Sun. The report.” Behind the glass curtain, a misshapen hand, pale and thin, reaches out to the side.
Sun rises to his feet and pulls out a scrolled document from his robes. He kneels before the curtain in a bow as he offers the report with both hands. That pale hand stretches through the curtain, exposing a flash of marble skin, before disappearing with the report.
In that fraction of a second, Rin glimpsed the figure beyond the curtain and piercing blue eyes met his. It’s not until Jun nudges him when he finally remembers to breathe.
“You’re turning purple,” Jun whispers, his brows raised. “Are you alright?”
Rin gives him a jerky nod and leans back, focusing on his wine instead.
“We have visitors,” the Mother breathes, setting the report aside for now. “Hwan Sun. An introduction.”
Sun bows again before retreating, giving the boys a stern look. “This is my youngest son, Hwan Jun, and his companion, Rin, who is currently under my care.”
There’s a brief silence and the Mother draws close to the curtain, a ghostly impression of a face shimmers beyond. “Of course. You have grown much since your last visit, young Jun.”
Jun hastily moves from his seat, folding his legs to kowtow to the Empress. “This loyal servant pays his respect to your Imperial Majesty,” he says, voice clear and reverent. When he raises his head, the colour has drained from his face and his eyes are lacklustre.
The Mother hums, seemingly pleased by the address. “Hwan Sun, you have raised your son well.”
Sun bows his head in gratitude. “You are much too kind, Your Majesty.”
“And this Rin. He must be more than the fifth lord’s playmate if you sought to introduce him to me.”
The Mother’s distorted face turns to Rin and he freezes under her stare, though he can’t see her eyes, he can feel her intense scrutiny. Jun slowly reaches over and pinches his friend’s sleeve, tugging him over. As if he were drunk, Rin stumbles from his seat and falls to his knees, giving the figure a clumsy bow.
“From where do you hail, young Rin?” the Mother hums, leaning forward. The curtain shifts, sending flickering prismatic lights across the ground.
“Hanjuyang. Though I was born in the West,” Rin says, anxiety giving his tone a certain brusqueness. He pauses and adds, “Your Majesty.”
The officials murmur in quiet outrage, irked by the Rat’s address. The youth raises his head and gives them a hard glare, one by one, and they all fall silent and glance away.
“Your lineage?”
“An absent father and a useless mother,” he snorts without thinking, before he quickly comes to his senses and clamps his mouth shut.
Jun gapes at him, blanching in shock. Beside him, the Governor gives him a steely glare.
But instead of being angered, the Mother laughs, the sound as piercing as her gaze. “You and I have much in common, young Rin.”
The hall collectively sighs in relief.
“Tell me. Where is this absent father and useless mother now?”
“I don’t know where my father is,” Rin says, pulling his fingers beneath his knees to sit upon. The weight sends pain shooting through the digits and he uses it to center himself. “My mother is…” He falters. “She’s dead.”
“My mother and father are also dead,” the Mother says, her tone pleasant and light as if conversing about the fine weather. “Do you miss them?”
The question gives him pause. He can’t miss his mother when she haunts his dreams every night. And he never knew his father, so there is nothing to miss but vague impressions. He answers truthfully, “No, I don’t. Do you?”
“I do not,” the Mother laughs again and the sound freezes the blood in his veins. When he glances at Jun, the lord appears on the verge of vomiting or fainting. Or both.
“I will ask you one more question. This old one will not keep you any longer than necessary. Tell me, young Rin, what path you wish to take.”
“...I’m not sure,” Rins says, a tad bewildered. The figure leans back as if losing interest. He quickly adds, “but I think I’d like to become a Silversword.” In reality, he has no proper plans. It’s nothing he’s ever pondered before, not properly anyway. But the Empress of the Four Territories wants a response from him and so he gives her the first thing that pops into his head.
The Mother pauses, tilting her head. “You must know how to fight, then.”
“Enough to get by.”
“Why a Silversword, exactly?”
Rin shrugs and fidgets, pressing his knees down harder on his fingers. A couple of joints crack. “No-one messes with a Silversword. If I become as strong as a Silversword, then no-one would mess with me and I’d be able to live in peace. Do what I want instead of what others want.”
“A Silversword must follow their captain’s orders. While citizens must obey your orders, it is not true authority.”
“Then, I’ll become a captain,” he says, irritation pricking at his nerves.
“The captain follows the commander’s orders.”
“Then I’ll be the commander’s superior.”
“You will find that the ladder keeps going, young Rin.”
“Then I’ll just make my way to the top.”
“That position has already been taken.” A smile in her voice.
“Then I’ll kick them off the ladder and take the position for myself.”
“Rin!” Sun barks, complexion waning. “What you speak of is treachery!”
The youth’s heart leaps into his throat, irritation draining along with his confidence. “But she asked--”
“I did ask and so he answered,” the Mother says, laughing lightly. “Hwan Sun, would you have your ward lie to his Empress?”
“Not at all, your Majesty. Your humble servant was only--”
An impatient wave of her hand silences him mid-sentence. The Governor stiffens and bows quickly.
“But we have important matters to discuss,” the Mother sighs, lowering her hand. “Fifth Lord Hwan Jun. Young Rin. You are both dismissed. I do hope to see you at the banquet this evening.”
The boys bow and leave, the hall dead silent as they do so. Many pairs of eyes seem to bore into the Rat as he shuffles out after Jun, but soon, all recover their focus to continue their heated discussion.
When Rin glances back, he can see the Mother behind the rippling curtain and those piercing blue eyes grip him once more.
