The Unknown Arts 8: Banquet (II) (Patreon)

At first Ruyi thought she’d hallucinated it.

Until she turned, and her last coherent thought vanished from her head.

“Who are you?” She croaked.

But in truth she didn’t need to ask who this was—she knew. Just look at her! This was what folk thought of when they thought of a princess. This small angelic face, almost heartbreakingly lovely. She was wrapped in flowing silks with a tasteful touch of gold. Imperial gold.

“We met at the Alchemist’s guild,” said the crown princess of the Song Dynasty. “Don’t you remember?” Her face fell a little, and Ruyi wanted to strangle the idiot who made this angel sad until she realized it was herself.

“What?” It took a moment before the memory dropped on her head like an anvil. “Oh! You! You were that cutie who took the test with me!”

“You think I’m cute?” said the princess, blushing harder. Normally Ruyi wouldn’t tolerate nonsense like this. Pretty people knew they were pretty; take Ruyi, for instance. But somehow she got the feeling this wasn’t false modesty.

“With bed hair and ugly glasses and dress too big for you you were cute,” she said. But the princess’ scruffy hair had been tamed to auburn waves. She’d shed the glasses. And her dress was definitely tight enough—having snuck at least three peeks down it in ten seconds, Ruyi could vouch for it.

“Now I can hardly think straight just looking at you.” Ruyi burped. “Though that could be the wine.”

The princess giggled. “You’re funny.” Ruyi hadn’t been joking, but she giggled along anyways. Her head felt very light; life right now felt like one long giggle.

“So will you dance with me?” asked the princess.

“Of course,” she said. “Though I should warn you, I can’t dance. And don’t hold me too hard. You might break me.”

The princess giggled more, but she hadn’t been joking that time either.

“I’ll help you,” said the princess. “Come with me.”

She smelled like lavender and her arms felt softer than the silk she wore and when she smiled Ruyi found it really hard to think and when she was pressed up close Ruyi found it hard not to think somewhat inappropriate things.

They swayed through a crowd of inessential people.

Ruyi liked dancing alone, or so she kept telling herself.

But sometimes, she had to admit, it was really nice being in someone else’s arms.

In the moment she’d been so lost all her fears, all her anxieties—her need to be wanted, to be noticed—it’d all been lost too. It wasn’t until afterwards, swaying her legs in a blissful haze, that she realized with a start how much the crowd had been looking at her. At them.

And she kicked herself a little. All night she’d wanted to be the talk of the Banquet—and when she was, she hadn’t even noticed!

But with the feeling of a kiss lingering on her cheek it was hard to care all that much.

***

Ostium, Demon Lands

Demon Lord’s Palace

Marcus, better known as the Demon Lord to his many enemies and few friends, sighed over the latest serving of intelligence reports scattered across his desk. He usually kept them in neat stacks, mastered them with annotations, herded them into ledgers—perhaps to keep up some delusion that he could wrangle the chaos of the Realm into comprehensible paper-sized chunks.

But on nights like tonight the papers were scattered across his giant oak desk. It was a sad concession to reality. He massaged his temples. There was too much crowding his mind… the war at the human border, heating by the day; the roiling sea of alliances between his Warlord underlings, ever more turbulent; and of course the Millennium Prophecy, hanging over his head like the full moon rising over his study window now, casting the room in bone-white.

He let it fill his gaze now, fill his mind, become the sole object of his attention until all the rest was naught. He held too much at once; he had to let go.   A knock at the door disturbed him. “Come in,” he sighed.

It was Caius.

“How are you, my friend?” he asked, summoning a weary smile. Smiling was the last thing he wished to do, but he was a ruler. And that meant certain duties.

“Tired,” said Caius. “But that is irrelevant. I have discoveries to report.”

“Please, give me a moment.”

He took one long breath, let it out, and with it imagined all the day’s troubles leaking out of him. Leaking out, to make room for more.

“Go on, then.”

“The Midsummer Banquet was tonight. Cassius posed as a footman and managed to be within striking range of the mark. Only he discovered the presence of two life-saving treasures on the boy’s body. Treasures which could withstand a strike from a Demon King.”

“I assume he postponed the strike.”

“Yes.”

“That’s wise of him. It seems we’ll need to try more creative means of getting at the boy. If it was merely Shao Yang, perhaps… but there is Li the Butcher, the greater threat.” He heaved another sigh. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately. “She’s already returned a dozen of our finest in ribbons. No more. No—with brute force, I don’t see a path. Not on human territory.”

“I will inform our agents. There are other, more discreet means of murder,” said Caius. “It will be done, one way or another. This I promise you.”

Marcus smiled weakly. “Do not make a promise unless you are certain you can keep it.”

“This I promise you,” insisted Caius.

“Alright.”

“Then there is the matter of the girl.”

“Yes. Our little alchemy prodigy.” Marcus couldn’t help but smile—truly, this time. Hearing of her exploits was his favorite part of Caius’ reports. “I read her proof of Jabir’s Theorem of Linking Energies—our alchemists obtained a copy. Delightfully clever.”

“Curiously Cassius spent much of the evening with her. He’s taken a liking to her too. But he also says she is a clear vulnerability. Ambitious, headstrong, rejected by her society, and possessed of an infamous willingness to push limits. His assessment aligns with that of our other agent. They have a joint proposal.”

“Oh?”

“Say she is to happen upon a copy of the Tartarus Codex. Say she is intrigued, and acts upon the recipes within…”

Marcus jerked upright. “That,” he breathed. “Is a dangerous idea. For her and for us. That tome should not be within ten thousand li of human territory. If it were to be linked to our agents…”

“They are capable of discretion. Cassius is the best. And Gaia—you know her.”

“It’s a risk,” said Marcus. His frown grew more pronounced.

“True. But a small one, in the grand scheme of things. They seem to think it is worth the risk. What do you think?”

Silent, Marcus looked to the moon. It shone like two snowy coins reflected in his eyes. In the vast board of his mind players rose and fell, pieces brushed away, moved squares, linked and broke…

He realized he was partial to this girl. She tickled him. She reminded him of himself, in a way.

He realized he did not wish to see her destroyed.

But he was a ruler, and that meant certain duties.  Sadly, he said, “Do it.”

“As you wish. And lastly there is the matter of Warlord Cato.”

“He’s issued a challenge.” Not a question, a statement, since he knew Cato’s mind intimately. He was in the business of knowing. Even knowing a thing was coming, you couldn’t always stop it.

“He has.”

“Despite my warnings to him.” Some folk had too much pride and too little sense. It was painfully common among demons. Demons were a violent and incredibly competitive species. Left unchecked they would drown the realm in blood.

Cato would have the Ruby Staff, Marcus’s Staff. He sought to challenge for Marcus’s title as the Lord of Demons.

On nights like these Marcus dearly wished he could retire. Retire, and tend his garden, and be happy. On nights like these he felt each one of his hundred hundred years hung on him like an old coat in a rainstorm.

How he despised ruling.

There was a time, a younger, more foolish time, when it was all he wished for. He would unite the disparate tribes; he would set the world right.

Then he ruled and realized how little power he truly had. He felt like a captain put in charge of some giant ancient vessel trying to maneuver it between rocky cliffs, yet he could only move the steering wheel by minute degrees. Some things are better wished for than attained.

It was no longer a matter of enjoyment. It was a matter of duty.

“Tell Cato I accept his challenge.”

For if he abdicated his duty—if he let those jackals he called his subordinates take the throne—

Demons would consume the world.

And with it, themselves.

***

Ruyi wished she could remember the rest of the night.

There was the dance—one wonderful dance. Then the drink really kicked in and knocked the knees out from under her. She played it up perhaps a little too much, let the princess half-hug half-carry her to a table before leaving her, despite much whimpering and protesting on Ruyi’s part.

Her memories cut off around that incredibly humiliating moment. Possibly to spare her the indignity of what followed. She hoped not.

Heavens, she was an awful drunk.

She made it home safe, although with a few inexplicable bruises. Mother had had some stern words for her she barely heard and didn’t at all understand. Apparently there was one advantage of her body—she handled wine better than most because she simply didn’t absorb the qi in it. Rather than a retching mess, she merely felt a pounding head and an urgent need to lie down.

Surprisingly, Father had no punishments for her. When he visited her in her bed the next day you could almost mistake him for pleased.

“You continue to surprise me,” he said. “The Emperor’s daughter?”

“You don’t approve?” said Ruyi warily.

“Of course I approve. You did well—far better than I’d hoped, in fact.” This was a shock to her and somewhat disappointing, since she’d been hoping to tell him to go screw himself.

“I also heard of your encounter with the young Chen Qin.”

“You did, didn’t you.” She didn’t bother hiding her bitterness.

“You shouldn’t feel too bad. Even if you were whole, it would not have worked out. His father and I have a …difficult relationship, shall we say. He wishes for my position. Brazenly.” Father smiled the way he smiled most often—hard eyes with no humor. “Thus far, the Emperor has denied him.”

“The Emperor?” She blinked. “Ah. He seems… fine. I saw him dribbling wine over his shirt.”

“He may seem a fool,” said Father, “and at times he acts like one.” She wondered if he should be saying these things. Then again she’d never known anything but blunt honesty from him. Sometimes too blunt.

“But he does have a mind for maneuvering. He splits his six provinces and their dukes. He pits three against three, plays them against each other. And in this way keeps himself above us all. Duke Qin leads one faction. You may consider me the leader of the other. We have long been… contentious. For years we have been engaged in gamesmanship…”

She wondered why he was telling her all this now. She'd always thought she wasn't important enough to know.

Here Father paused. “But there is one route to victory. One way to cement my position for good. And that is to marry into the Emperor’s line.”

Oh.

Heat rose to Ruyi’s cheeks. “Father!”

"You'll be pleased to know that when Young Master Qin propositioned the princess for a dance, she snubbed him."

This did make her feel a lot better, annoyingly enough. Still--"I am not marrying anyone to further your political career!"

"Your mother was quite clear with me on that point."

"And it was one night! I hardly know her!"

"Yes, yes," said Father dryly. "Though one could be fooled. It took no small effort to extricate you--"

"GET OUT!"