Difference between revisions of "BurgerSlave/BlossomsOfAutumn"

Revision as of 21:22, 5 April 2004

The Blossoms of Autumn

The sun was just setting, reddening the sky in the west. This close to the Imperial Mountain, night came fast, the Elemental Pole of Earth casting its long shadow across the land. The paper lanterns were just then being lit throughout the streets of Promise. The small Manse that served as the ruling family’s headquarters flew the mon of House Tepet. Sentries patrolled the parapets. It was Pure Morning who saw the traveler first. He was a large man, dressed in the House’s colors. But his clothing was dusty and travel-worn, and he wore his shaggy hair and beard in an outlandish fashion. His armor, though well-used, was immaculately cared for. The sword across his back rivaled some daiklaves for size. The horse he rode strained to bear up his weight. They’d come a long way, that was clear enough. The sentinel leaned forward, lifting his lantern. He started back at the face that glowered down at him.

“My lord Noro!” Pure Morning clicked his heels together and bowed. “I did not recognize you.”

"As you were, soldier,” growled the rider. “I have returned, at the behest of my parents.”

Pure Morning nodded. “At once, Lord Noro,” he said. He turned, then looked up, and immediately threw himself to his knees, pressing his forehead to the cobbled path. “Most Exalted Lord Tydus!” he gasped.

The Dragon-Blood behind the gates regarded the rider. At first glance, one might take him to be the rider’s son. They shared the same prominent nose, the same Tepet square jaw. The rider’s leathery, rugged features gave him an air of age that was absent in the Exalt. Then, the rider dipped his chin.

“Father,” he said.

The Exalt nodded back. “Son,” he replied, his light, quiet voice a far cry from the rider’s deep, gravelly tones. “Your mother and I will see you at dinner.” And with that, the Dragon-Blood turned and padded up the walk, pausing to contemplate the bonsai before stepping into the Manse.

Noro’s jaw ground. He’d spent the entire last week riding from the port in the Imperial City. He was tired, and hungry, and he ached all over. What he wanted was a bath, a massage, and a large meal. Perhaps the Dragon-Blooded could ride for a week and not be bothered, but mere mortals like him weren’t so enduring.

So he made his most Honored and Exalted Parentages wait while he saw to more mortal needs.

An hour later, he knelt on his tatami, glowering at the beef and rice before him. His mother, Lady Ashra, sipped delicately from a cup of tea, while his father, Lord Tydus, studiously scooped rice into his mouth.

“I suppose we needn’t say that we’re disappointed,” his mother said, setting down her cup.

“But you just did, didn’t you?” Noro didn’t look up. He didn’t have to. He could feel the weight of his parents’ displeasure bearing down on him. He could taste their bitter disapproval like rain in the air. Both were Aspects of Air, and could trace their line directly back to Tepet, and through him, the Scarlet Empress.

“Don’t take that tone with your mother,” said Lord Tydus.

“What were you thinking, Noro?” asked Lady Ashra. “To pillow with a... with a mere peasant girl?”

“She was your subordinate, Noro,” said Lord Tydus around a mouthful of beef. “Such fraternizing is wholly inappropriate for an officer of your rank.”

“It would be different if we were some slovenly Cynis, with nothing more important than orgies on our agenda. But we are Tepet, Noro, and—“

Noro rubbed his face. “Look,” he said. “I don’t see where it’s any of your business—“

“Tepet Tilis Noro!” snapped the Lady. “You dare to interrupt me? You have brought considerable shame upon your family. Even if you don’t care how everyone else sees you, you could at least have some consideration for the rest of us! Even if you are not fortunate enough to have been Exalted, what of your children?” The Lady waved a dismissive hand, sniffing derisively. “How just like a selfish, common footsoldier. Only thinking of your own future.”

Noro sneered. “I most humbly beg your pardon, most Honored and Exalted Mother,” he said, pressing his hands together and bowing in mock humility. “Forgive me if I can’t be as perfect as the rest of my Respectable and Exalted siblings, or my Most Excellent and Honorable Parents.”

With that, Noro stood from the table. “I’m not hungry,” he growled as he turned and crossed the floor.

“Noro!” barked his father. “You have not been excused!”

Noro glanced over his shoulder. “No, I haven’t,” he grunted, before sliding open the door and slamming it shut behind him.

It’s not as if he hadn’t taken care of the problem. The girl had come to him in tears, certain that her unborn was his. The timing was right, certainly. But it was nothing any decent apothecary couldn’t handle. It wasn’t his fault the girl had died as well as the babe. Such things happened all the time. It was the will of Heaven.

Of course, they didn’t care that she’d</> died, only that he'd aborted a Tepet child. Who cares if the peasant girl dies, but Dragons forfend that one drop of their precious Dynastic blood be wasted. Once they had learned of his indiscretion, his parents had ordered him back from the field. As punishment, he would sit and languish while they led the House legions against their enemies in the North. That was to have been the last great campaign of his career. This was to be his last great hurrah before his retirement. Here he was, into his forty-seventh year, and he was being kept home like a spoiled child.

Dammit. It wasn’t <i>fair.

The balcony of Noro's old room overlooked the parade grounds, and he sat there, slowly puffing his pipe as Luna rose into prominence above him.

“You know your mother hates that,” said the voice from behind him. For the first time since coming home, Noro allowed himself a smile.

“Why do you think I do it?” he asked. “It’s good to see you again, Jifu.”

Cheng Jifu was perhaps Noro’s only friend at the Manse. His father’s advisor stepped out to join him on the balcony. “I’m glad you’re home, Master Noro,” he said. Noro noted that the old man still moved with all the liquid grace he had learned as an instructor at the Palace Sublime. He had been old when Noro had been a boy, and had taught him how to fight with spear, sword, and bow. Of all the great and Exalted personages in that household, it was Jifu who had Noro’s respect.

“I’m not glad to be home,” Noro grumbled. “I can’t believe they’re making such a fuss because I tumbled some rice-farmer’s little girl. I paid her bride-price, and for his troubles as well.”

“Do you feel no regret that such a young life was lost?” Jifu asked rhetorically. “Is it not written, ‘The bud that is cut shall never blossom’?”

Noro sighed quietly. “I quit regretting that a long time ago, Jifu,” he said. “I had to. I’ve led too many boys to their deaths. If my regrets were a drop of water for each one, then I’d drown.” He looked up at the sky. “I was hoping to be sent to the North. My last big battle. Perhaps I’d fall, like an honest soldier should, rather than have to face my retirement. I don’t think I could bear to watch all my brothers and sisters continue on while I grow old and feeble.”

Jifu nodded. “I am certain that, when the time is right, Heaven’s plan shall be made known to you.” He patted Noro’s shoulder. “Now go get some rest, lad. You’ve had a hard day.”

Noro nodded. He knocked the ashes from his pipe, making sure they’d land in the bonsai, then turned and plodded back into his room. Jifu waited to hear the sliding of Noro’s bedroom door. He waited even longer for the serving girl he knew would pad by just as the midnight bell tolled. He waited still longer for Noro to satisfy himself on her. When finally he heard two deep, even sets of breathing, Jifu bew out the lamp and turned to face the heavens.

He searched the skies for news of the impending battle. For long hours, he studied those constellations found within the Crimson Panoply of Victory in vain for the stars of this family he had chosen to guide and protect. With a sinking heart, Jifu turned his starry gaze to the Violet Bier of Sorrows. There, he read the fate of House Tepet written plain as day for those with eyes to see such things.

The matter had been taken out of his hands. There was nothing he could do, now. Chejop Kejak had been clear—-none of the Bronze Faction was to meddle with the destinies of those Terrestrial Exalts of the Dynasty. Despair and anger filled Jifu’s heart as he read the end of the Tepet legions scribed across the sky.

Then, he conceived of one wild, faint hope. There was one unExalted member of the Tilis branch of House Tepet whose destiny he could assist. Jifu leapt to his feet. There was precious little time. The journey to Yu Shan would be a long one, and he would have to pull many strings to get an audience with Lytek on such short notice.

By Jupiter’s distaff, he wasn’t beaten yet!

The messenger was sweating as he approached the Tepet Manse, even despite the cool autumn air. The Lord Noro had a legendary temper, and he bore particularly bad news.

They found him in the dining room, half-drunk on rice wine. He read the message that had been sent to him, then accepted the scroll that listed the names of the fallen. It was unsettlingly thick. Noro felt himself grow cold as he read over the names. So the rumors were true. The Tepet legions hadn’t been merely beaten by the barbarians. They’d been crushed. Killed to a man. As the names of his siblings and his parents scrolled by his eyes, the scroll fell from Noro’s numb fingers.

He stumbled out of the Manse. The walls were closing in on him. He had to get out. He had to breathe. Could it be they were all dead? Could it be that he, alone, had survived? Him, the one unExalted member of his family? He fell to his knees. Dimly, he recognized that he knelt in his mother’s beloved bonsai garden.

“Master Noro.”

Noro panted for breath. “J-Jifu,” he managed to rasp out. “S-something’s... wrong with me...” He was starting to sweat, steam was rising off him. He shivered as he felt something deep inside made his insides twist like snakes. Jifu just watched, eyes sparkling as Noro staggered to his feet. He sucked in a deep breath.

In that moment, Noro was Exalted.

When he came to, he was lying in his bed. Only the lightest sheets covered him, even though it was far too cool for them. He threw them back and stood. Despite the chill, he wasn’t cold; far from it. Did he have some kind of fever? Noro crossed the room, intent on getting going into the village and visiting the doctor. His reflection in the vanity made him stop and stare.

His skin, usually bronzed by long days in the sun, had reddened, like sunburn. His hair and beard had gone from graying auburn to warm beaten copper streaked with gold. And as he stared, he could see wavy heat-ripples curling off his shoulders.

Then there was the power. He could taste it with every breath he drew. He knew it to be the very Essence of Creation. Many were the times he had seen the Charms of the Dragon-Blooded. As a lad, they had awed him, for they had said that such power was his birthright. For he was the firstborn son of two Dragon-Blooded lords...

“Jifu! JIFU!!” Noro’s voice was panicked. There was no way to explain it. People his age just weren’t Chosen. His life was supposed to be nearing its end. Did this mean that he would live for centuries, now? That his life had only just begun? It was horrifying for him to imagine.

And then, Jifu was there. “So, your Most Exalted Personage has finally awakened,” he said with a sardonic grin. “You seem to be doing well, even if you look a bit on the cooked side. An Aspect of Fire, unless I’m sorely mistaken. But fear not, Master Noro. One of my old colleagues from the Palace Sublime has come, and will instruct you in the ways of harnessing your Essence.” Jifu bowed low. “As you are the now the rightful Lord of this Manse, it seemed appropriate.”

The next few weeks, Noro came to rely on Jifu more than ever. His father’s advisor--now his--handled everything. He took care of the funerary arrangements for the family, even going so far as to send for a Sijanese mortician team to properly embalm those of his family whose bodies could be recovered. He also made sure that the best lawyers on the Blessed Isle were on hand to transfer all of Lord Tydus’ property to Noro, the rightful inheritor. With the assistance of Jifu’s colleague, Noro mastered the power flowing through him, learning how to fashion his Essence into Charms, and how to control the flaring of his anima. He’d thought himself an excellent swordsman before. When his great-grandfather’s red jade daiklave was in his hand, however, he put his old records behind him.

But even with this flurry of activity surrounding the Manse, Noro felt hemmed in. Now that he had all the energy of his youth and more again, Noro yearned to leave his Manse and return to… something. At first, he thought he’d re-enlist in the legions. But there were no legions anymore. And, in his heart, he couldn’t find the hunger for military duty and discipline that had been a part of his life for thirty years.

But he had been a part of the military police as a lad, and his Exaltation had sharpened his skills of investigation and deduction. Now that he was a Prince of the Earth, he felt entitled to a little ease and luxury. So Noro decided to become a consulting detective, putting his skills as an investigator up for bid. Even as the Realm came tumbling down around his ears, he made a pretty penny solving cases for an elite clientele. Satisfied that he was accomplishing something, Noro looked forward to his next case, a commission from the Immaculate Order itself.

Jifu watched this latest stage of history unfold. He had done a great service to the Right Hand of Power to convince him to allow a Dynast as old as Noro to Exalt. Greater still was the service he owed Wayang for getting the Minister of Endings to countersign his petition to the pattern spiders, placing Noro’s destiny under his own personal protection.

Noro’s star had moved out of the Violet Bier of Sorrows, and now rested firmly within Jifu’s own Maiden’s astrological house, the Forbidding Manse of Ivy. But that star shone under the auspices of the Mask, shrouding Noro’s future in secrecy and deception. For better or worse, Jifu could only watch and wait for the next step of Heaven’s plan to be made known to him.

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