The Unknown Arts 7: Banquet (Patreon)

You knew when you entered the Emperor’s territory when you saw the flowers. Orchids, peonies, plum blossoms and lilies dotted hill after hill. The road to the palace was lined with the Emperor’s favorite: Cherry blossom trees. They were planted so their branches embraced, making a natural pink canopy.

It was autumn and the trees were starting to shed. To Ruyi it looked like the sky was crying pink tears. She held out her hand, curious, and as Fate would have it a blossom landed in her palm.

She blinked at its pretty unfurling softnesses. It made her feel a little better.

Soon the palace loomed before them, a fat tower thrust into the clouds. Its floors were red ornamental wood carved with curving designs which reminded her of currents in a river. Its tiered eaves were glazed ceramic tiles, imperial yellow—far too much, in her opinion. It was all far too much.

It was bustling when they arrived. Clumps of guests dotted the lawn, chittering and giggling. Jin and her parents got off first.

A footman had been assigned to aid and guide them. Young and far too smiley, she decided. Flowing locks and these pretty brownish eyes. She probably would’ve found him quite pleasing to the eye if she wasn’t so mad. When he tried helping her down she batted him away, strutted down the steps, tripped over the hem of her hanfu, fell in what felt like humiliating slow motion, was caught by in the arms of the footman—who’d gotten far too close for her liking—batted him off, picked up the last scraps of her dignity, and hurried to catch up with the rest of her family.

She soon learned Jin was a far better pretender than she was, probably because he had so much practice. Chatter sprung up and eyes trailed them as they passed, but Jin smiled like he was totally at ease. She was smiling, too. Just as convincingly as he was, she’d thought, until he pulled her aside and asked, “Are you okay? You seem angry…”

“I’m not angry. Do I look angry?” she snarled.

Wisely, he chose not to answer that.

The footman guided them into the palace. The floors were big hexagons with a little hexagon cut out of their middles. It was like there was an invisible beam running from the bottom to the top, ending at a stained glass roof. Sunlight from the ceiling showered golden fractals onto the floor.

“The banquet shall be held in approximately one hour on the top floor,” said the footman. “In the meantime, please feel free to peruse the palace. The Emperor has opened up certain halls for his guests’ pleasure. In this building resides the largest collection of sculptures and paintings in the Dynasty, including originals by Shunzi and Tao. There is also the Emperor’s personal antique swords collection. He has even brought in a bestiary with creatures from all four corners of the dynasty, including northern phoenixes and western frost dragons. Please—enjoy.”

“Where are the stairs?” asked Ruyi. A frost dragon was sure to cheer her up. She liked things with lots of teeth, especially when they knew how to use them.

“Stairs?” the footman chuckled. “There are no stairs. You may simply jump, mistress. The building can handle it.”

“Ah,” she said. “Right. Jump.”

“Oh,” said the Footman. “I see—my apologies. I’d forgotten… will you be in need of any assistance, Mistress?”

“No,” she said primly.

Her father raised a brow at her, but she let the awkward silence sit.

“I apologize for my daughter,” sighed Father. “She is stubborn and foolish. She will require assistance moving between floors.”

“Of course. It is no trouble at all,” said the footman, and she felt like she might dissolve into a puddle on the floor.

“Let us enjoy the Emperor’s offerings. We’ll meet up for dinner,” said Father. Mother and Jin both nodded. To Ruyi he added, “And stop looking so angry. You are disturbing those around you.”

“I’m not angry!”

While the rest of them scattered, she stewed on the first floor. The footman gave this polite little cough.

“Would you like—”

“Touch me and I will end you.”

“…Of course, mistress. Whatever you like.”

Ruyi resolved to find her own way up. There had to be one, surely. She was sure of it.

Much scouring later, she was a little less sure. Folk were starting to look at her weird. The footman still followed her around, but at least he kept his eyes to himself and tried nothing fishy.

“The banquet is about to begin, mistress...” The footman hesitated, but she made him say it. “Are you certain you wouldn’t like for me to—”

“No.”

“As you wish.”

Her new plan: there was a long welcome sash lining the entrance arch. Most of the visitors had gone up anyways; they wouldn’t notice it missing. She appropriated it, hissed at the guards who tried to stop her, tied a knot at the end, and chucked it over the second floor balcony. It stuck.

“Miss?” said the footman. “This seems rather unsafe—”

“Shut up and watch me, pretty boy.”

About a third of the way up, she realized she’d drastically overestimated her arm strength. She stalled there, screaming at her arms to move. Her arms screamed back, ‘no!’

When she fell, he caught her—again. “Will you stop doing that!”

“What?”

“Catching me! I don’t need your help. If I fall, just—just let me die!”

“Err,” said the footman, coughing to hide a grin—was he mocking her? “Pardon, but I don’t believe I am permitted to do that, Mistress.”

Sighing, she stared upwards. There were nine floors in all.

In Alchemy she found it possible to bend reality to her own whims. But in matters of the physical, she was finally forced to admit nine floors were eight-and-two-thirds floors too many.

“Can you carry me?” she said in a tiny voice.

“Sorry?”

“I said ‘can you carry me.’”

“Of course, Mistress. Ah—how would you like me to?”

“I don’t care. Just get it over with. And don’t touch me!”

“Err,” said the footman.

“…Fine. You may touch me. But I will not be put in a bridal carry. I will sit on you. Carry me on your back.”

The footman did. In a few jumps, he deposited her at the entrance to a grand red-carpeted hall. She got off, brushed invisible dust off her knee, threw her hair back, thrust her chest out, and strolled on through like nothing happened.

***

Behind her, the footman chuckled as he watched her go.

“What a strange one you are, Ruyi Yang.”

Sunlight slashed bright across his face. In the right light, at the right angles, his pupils seemed to glow red.

***

“Eat something,” said Jin.

“I’m not hungry,” said Ruyi.

“I’m not either. But it’ll help. Trust me.”

She reached for a prawn, dipped it in a strange green sauce, and took a nibble. It tasted like glue.

Two spots in the giant hall drew the most attention.  First was the high table, where the important people and their spouses sat—the Emperor, the six Dukes who governed his provinces, Father, and a handful of other ministers of something or another. They seemed to be going around the table sucking up to him, one by one. The Emperor himself chortled, dribbling wine over himself. They said he ruled by Heaven’s mandate, but up close he just seemed a chubby short man in a fancy hat.

Then there was her table, which was just her and Jin. It was like every eye in the room was steel and Jin was the world’s strongest magnet. He drew a lot of stares, but a certain demographic was really interested in him. Father, it turned out, was right. Jin just gulped, took a bite of lamb, and pretended not to notice.

Then came time for the post-meal mingling, and it was impossible to pretend any longer. The first girl nearly sprinted to him. “Hello!” she said in a fake breathless laugh. “You’re Jin Yang, aren’t you? I’ve heard so much about you!”

This was the worst possible way to introduce yourself to her brother. Jin suppressed a wince and put on a polite smile, the poor boy. Behind her the girls were making a queue. Heavens.

But Jin wasn’t the only one getting action. Girls and boys with shiny hair and sparkly clothes drifted between tables, chatting it up. Not Ruyi. Ruyi was not someone who approached; Ruyi was someone to be approached.

Or so she’d hoped. As the minutes trickled by, it was growing painfully clear that father was right on a second count. No-one came up to her. If they made eye contact they flinched and grew very interested in their shoes.

She’d expected this. She should’ve been used to it. But every time it found a new way to hurt her.

There was supposed to be a dance after this, wasn’t there? She wished Mother would let her drink. She swore she spot a few bottles lying around on a side table. Hoping nobody paid attention, she crept over to them. Just a few sips would do—

“Hello, gorgeous.”

She blinked, turned, saw a broad chest, looked up, saw a square jaw and a haughty smirk. Oh. Oh, my.

“Really?” she said, ignoring the fluttering in her chest. “That’s what you’re starting with?”

“Forgive me,” said the beautiful boy. Darkly beautiful, a prince of the night. “I’m usually more clever. But you were so stunning you had me at a loss.”

“Better,” she said, mouth a little dry. Heavens. If she wasn’t careful she could cut herself on that jaw.

“I am Chen Qin,” said the boy, bowing.

“The first son of Duke Qin?”

Father was wrong about one thing, apparently—she could ‘attract prime candidates,’ whatever the Hell that was supposed to mean!

“Ah. So you’ve heard of me,” chuckled the boy. “Then you have me at a disadvantage. You know my name, but I don’t seem to know yours.”

She realized he was waiting for her to say something—her name, of course! She realized she was blushing.

“I’m Ruyi. Ruyi Yang.”

He laughed, surprisingly.

“What’s so funny?”

“Oh. Oh. You’re serious.” He said it like she’d just told him she had a terminal disease.

The mood was doused instantly. Chen took a half step back.

“I… read about your Alchemy work, in the Post,” he stammered. He was squirming. “Very… admirable. So young—and with your condition, too… I can’t imagine…”

“Thanks,” she said stiffly.

The silence that hung between them was nearly unbearable. She didn’t know what to say to him—was she meant to apologize? She felt guilty, like she’d tricked him, which was ridiculous, but she felt it anyway.

“So,” she tried, since she had to try something. “What brings you—”

He didn’t let her finish.

“I should go. I’m sorry. Excuse me.” He bowed before he left, a gentleman’s way out. Leaving her to stare after him, mouth slightly open, blinking fast; by now Ruyi was a master at holding back tears.

Hell if it didn’t hurt every single time.

She grabbed the bottle and drank.

***

This was nice.

She giggled.

She’d never been drunk before. She liked this. It was hard to sit on a thought for long; they all kind of floated by. Things were wobbly, unsteady, a little blurry.

At some point the guzheng master started playing a tune like drifting autumn leaves. This meant it was time for the dance to start. Only, no-one asked her to dance, since this was all a game, a big dumb game, and if they signaled they wanted to be with her they lost the game. So she just swayed on her feet, hiccuping. She liked dancing on her own. If she said it to herself enough times she might just start to believe it.

She could do whatever she liked. She could become Empress of the fucking Dynasty! But none of it would matter, apparently. They were too polite to say it to her face, these snakes in human skin, but she saw the way they looked at her. It made her want to hurl. Or maybe that was the wine. Hard to tell.

“Excuse me?” A tap on her arm.

“Wugh?”

There was a boy there, fluffy-haired, strangely familiar. He was blushing as he spoke. “I’m Kai—Kai Shen. You won’t remember, but we shared a carriage ride long ago—”

“I remember.”

“You do?”

“I don’t forget things,” she slurred. She tapped her head, smiling. “I am v-v-very smart.”

“Um. Are you drunk?”

“No. How dare you.” She burped. “Okay. Maybe a little.”

“Oh. Anyway… Father says I shouldn’t talk to you, but… you looked kind of sad. I just wanted to say I think you look wonderful. I—I guess I thought you should know.”

She could’ve cried just then. She could’ve kissed him. Instead, she sniffed. “I know.”

When she razed Jade Dragon City to the ground, and the residence of Duke Qin twice over, she supposed she could make an exception for Kai.

Kai Shen left, and she stood alone again in a dancing crowd.

Just when she’d resigned herself to a life of eternal solitude, she heard a soft bright voice.

“Ruyi Yang? May I have this dance?”