H - 100: Shame On You (Patreon)

The suddenness of the announcement sent shockwaves through Rhivkabat, amplified by the enormity of what was announced. Within an hour, nearly the entire city was closed for business as everyone surged toward the plazas surrounding the ancient palace complex near the city’s center, which now housed the core of the Regency’s government.

In many cities, this would have been a catastrophe, but Rhivaak was both well-prepared for this, and had cultivated a better relationship with its people than many states enjoyed.

Originally the broad spaces around the palace complex had been designed for defensive purposes, but under Izayaroa’s rule they had been augmented to support rather than repel public demonstrations. A network of regularly spaced fountains provided fresh water, shaded awnings and stands of palm trees were erected to offer reprieve from the desert sun, and even public toilet facilities were discreetly tucked away but well-labeled and easily found.

Now, as most of the city’s population streamed into the area, the assets of the state were out in force. Some visitors to Rhivaak eyed the uniformed soldiers askance, but the style of policing favored by the Regency meant that locals and resident foreigners had learned to appreciate rather than fear these peacekeepers. They patrolled in small groups and stood in elevated guard stations, watching for trouble and keeping order with words, almost never having to exercise force. There was no concentration of troops positioned to descend upon the crowd, merely keeping watch from within in a show of trust that ran both ways. Nor were police the only assets of the state deployed: as was standard practice for public displays in Rhivaak, medics had also set up stations and patrols, uniformed conjurers stood by to provide ice and water if an emergency occurred out of easy reach of a fountain, and even clerks with clipboards moved through the throng conducting surveys.

The Regency took very seriously its Empress’s edict that agents of the state were servants of the public, and the public had learned to appreciate them as such.

By the time of the event at noon, all those who would be allowed to attend the public audience had been selected by lottery and escorted into the Hall of the Serpent, where they were organized into galleries flanking the audience chamber and leaving a wide aisle open down its center to the enormous dais occupying the far end of the room from its massive front doors. That such a thing could be set up and done so efficiently was a triumph of bureaucratic efficiency, the kind of feat at which foreign visitors marveled and Rhiva shrugged. That it had been done so well was only slightly less astonishing to non-Rhiva than that it had been done at all. In far more of the world than otherwise, such an event would be attended only by the powerful elite, organized by rank and influence. Here, today, there were a few such wealthy and connected individuals present, rubbing shoulders with dockworkers, artisans, and people from every walk of life. The lots drawn were limited only by the available space, and well-tested systems implemented long since to ensure no one would be able to wield their influence to secure preferential access.

The disparate members of the audience stood in awed quiet, barely daring to whisper to each other as the long minutes ticked on and they awaited the appointed hour. Even with nothing to do but stare, they waited without complaint, enduring the discomfort by reveling in the opportunity. It had been generations since such a thing had been seen.

The Empress had returned.

It was one thing to be in her presence, to gaze upon her in person knowing the significance of her place here. The power she wielded both through the state and by virtue of who and what she was. It was another to be awestruck by the display of beauty she presented, and another still to reckon with being in a room with a dragon.

Izayaroa reclined in a half-curled posture upon her dais, impassive but seemingly at ease. Her head moved unhurriedly, shifting to direct her golden eyes at one point in the room or another, where people finding themselves seemingly the focus of her gaze would freeze without fail, struck by gravitas and instinctive terror. Now and again she would adjust her posture minutely, even her tiniest motions causing faint stirs in the crowd to the accompaniment of scales and claws rasping against stone—sounds that, though subtle, echoed definitively in the audience chamber. Once in a while, just every few minutes, she would tap the tip of her tail against the dais, a languid motion like a complacent cat’s, which nevertheless sent a boom like a struck gong resonating through the room every time.

She was a thing of majestic beauty purely in and of herself, each ebon scale tipped with a band of metallic gold along its trailing edge—in their thousands, these meant that she scintillated like the sun itself with every motion, an interplay of darkness and light which dazzled onlookers. To her natural jewelry she had added the augmentations with which she was usually depicted in public art and which few had cause to know she never cared to wear except during such formal appearances. These adornments were solid gold, engraved with geometric patterns and inlaid pieces of onyx which created an inverse of the effect of her scales. Huge rings encircled the base of her horns, her wrists and ankles just above her colossal talons, and points just short of both the base and the tip of her tail. The largest piece lay around her neck at the shoulders, a facsimile of the wide shoulder collar worn by the ancient kings of Rhivkabat, altered to suit her anatomy.

And, of course, she was a dragon.

The enormity of her was both a wonder and a threat to those not accustomed to the presence of dragons—the vast majority of people. An Empress and a decorated beauty she might be, but Izayaroa was also an apex predator, and the largest single creature most people in this room would ever see in person. Merely to be in her silent presence made the deepest instincts of most onlookers quail, the most ancient part of their brains screaming that this was a monster which could not only annihilate them at the slightest movement, but probably intended to.

Not one person moved to leave. The knowledge of Izayaroa’s significance, her identity, held instinct in check. But that instinct was there.

She knew exactly what she was doing by sitting there, towering above them in ominous silence. Her people knew she would never harm them, and even if they only knew that rationally, with barely enough certainty to keep their animal instincts in check… Even better. Her purpose here today was to remind the world of fear.

At the appointed hour, to the precise second, the audience chamber’s towering front doors were pulled open, having been shut after the last group of lottery winners several minutes before. Through them emerged the…guests of honor, and their escorts.

All were accompanied by the Empress’s Dragonlancers, her black-armored elite soldiers marching in formations surrounding their accompanying dignitaries which gave them room to employ their weapons without entangling one another. To any who understood such matters, this alone made it clear these were not an honor guard.

In the lead, surrounded by eight grim-eyed lancers, strode a handsome middle-aged Rhiva man, the temples of his black hair and neatly trimmed short beard just beginning to show silver. His attire was expensive in material and tailoring, but not ostentatious in embellishment, featuring only subtle embroidery in colors matching the base fabrics. Izayaroa long disparaged ostentation, and centuries of this had formed a cultural habit among the Rhiva of displaying wealth only with taste and restraint. This man’s face was blank of all expression, frozen in the cast of someone employing all the strength he possessed not to betray any hint of emotion.

Behind him came a loose throng of fourteen far more flashily-dressed humans, their personal styles disparate but clearly of the same phenotype: lean of build, pale of complexion, with a trend toward angular features and hair the same shade of black that was common among the Rhiva, but straight rather than wavy. They were also escorted by Dragonlancers, but fewer in number. Either they were considered a lesser threat—unlikely, as every one of them carried at the least a visible sword—or they were of less import.

Arriving at the very head of the wide aisle, so close to Izayaroa that he would have to crane his neck back uncomfortably to look at her, the man in the lead sank to both knees and bowed his head before her, his armed escort stepping away to line both sides of the aisle itself, arms in hand and still staring at him. Behind, the rest of the troops did likewise, while the subjects they were escorting all bowed deeply, most with flashy gestures.

Izayaroa gazed down upon them all in silence, waiting while the soft stir of whispers around the room faded. Waiting, and effortlessly applying layer upon layer of rising tension to those arranged before her. With the expertise that came from centuries of practice, she broke the trance at the precise instant its weight had settled to the optimum degree.

“I am aware, my people, that you have missed me.” Her voice was deep, a rich alto which was often praised as musical even in her smaller form; powered by the lungs of a full-sized elder dragon, it echoed from the walls with a force that was nigh tangible. “So I was told, not long ago, by a citizen of my Empire, and I will not deny that the knowledge warmed my heart. In truth, I have also missed you. It…tries me, my patience and my restraint, to be apart from the people whose well-being I have devoted my life to safeguarding. But as I have said many times, and written in both treatises and upon monuments throughout this city, it is not best for a mortal civilization to be reigned over by an all-powerful sovereign. People are best served by serving one another, strengthened by aiding in one another’s struggles. A nation’s heart is in its people, not its ruler. And never doubt that I am proud, people of Rhivaak, of what you have achieved in my absence.”

She paused there, allowing the soft murmur which ensued to wear itself out, and finally permitting herself a smile. It was a tiny expression upon her huge face, but it had an amazing effect upon the severity of her aspect. Izayaroa let it all hover over the audience for just the right span of seconds, and her expression grew solemn again before she continued.

“There is no such thing as a perfect society. I speak as one who has, I believe, done more than any other living soul to ascertain the best ways for people to live and be govern: beware above all else the specter of utopianism. It comes from the same misguided desire which leads people to abase themselves before tyrants: the urge to rest, to trust that someone has everything under control, to allow systems to run unattended without need for anyone to trouble themselves. It can never be so. The world is too complicated and life too chaotic; we must always be ready to respond to changing circumstances. There is no system of governance so flawlessly designed that it will not eventually succumb to unexpected events, and to the creeping decay of corruption.

“I see myself, my people, not as your tyrant, for I do not wish you to suffer the rule of any tyrant. There is no such thing as a benign tyrant, there are only degrees in the depravity to which they subject hapless populations. The main work I have done to establish Rhivaak as a prosperous, safe, and free society was wrought in centuries past. That it has continued so well is a credit to your efforts, not to mine. No, I regard myself as Rhivaak’s…failsafe. An acknowledgment that systems, no matter how well-crafted, are inevitably imperfect and will fail. The advantage I now offer Rhivaak is that when the unexpected yet inevitable happens, its immortal Empress is able to intervene, and avert disaster.”

At that, she paused again; the murmuring was louder and lasted longer. Izayaroa waited it out with no gesture of impatience, even her tapping tail now still. Only once it had died back down to silence did she speak once more.

“I know you are wise enough to understand the implications of this, and of my presence here, now. I know how much my Regency spends on public education, and consider it the greatest investment possible. I will now assure you, my people: no disaster looms. I have come only to make a…correction.”

She paused momentarily, another tiny smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“In truth, I do so with some frequency, but more subtly. I have always considered it best not to interfere with your running of your own lives, my people—a task I consider you capable to attending without supervision. But I was chided, in the gentlest of terms, for this not long ago, by a citizen of my Empire whose opinion I have come to value greatly. It is important beyond description for powerful and long-lived beings such as myself to be willing to learn and grow; it is important for all beings, but power and longevity make it more difficult. I cherish those who prompt me to reconsider my positions, as I have done now. In the future, my people, you will see me more often. Not so often that my visits become a distraction from your lives, I hope. But I have seen that it is to the benefit of Rhivaak that you are reminded, from time to time, that I cherish you. That I am pleased and proud of your success. And especially that I watch over you. That reminder, I have learned, I must do a better job of conveying not only to you, my beloved people, but to the world at large.”

She turned her head to the left, and at that signal, a side door to the chamber there opened and an entire phalanx of Dragonlancers emerged, this time escorting prisoners about who no pretense was being made. There were dozens of them, chained at the wrists and bound to one another, in clothing marking them as members of every social station and numerous professions. There were even a handful in various government uniforms, including two police officers—all disarmed, of course. These bore their circumstances with overall less poise than the first groups, reacting with overt terror to the presence of the great dragon looming over them. Several began weeping openly.

Izayaroa waited, impassive, while her lancers marched the prisoners forward and arranged them in a single long row spanning the entire width of the chamber, facing the audience.

“Rhivaak suffers a looming problem of civil and government corruption,” the Empress stated, causing the tiniest stir from the onlooking crowd and renewed sobs from the newest batch of prisoners. “This is, in the grand scheme of things, a small matter—ordinarily not an affair which should cause a public spectacle. I intervene now so that a growing problem can be snuffed out before it becomes a grown one, to the detriment of all. Most of you will have suffered no ill effect from this issue. To those who have, I offer my humblest apology, on behalf of both my Regency and myself, for failing to safeguard your happiness.”

To the audible astonishment of all present, the great dragon dipped her head deeply before them, closing her eyes, before she gracefully resumed her previous position and continued.

“The individual crimes of those gathered before you are, with a very few exceptions, not great. Most of these individuals you see cowering in apparent expectation of being devoured will suffer no greater punishment than fines and loss of position. Some few will serve time in prisons or involuntary public duties. This…unseemly spectacle has been arranged because I believe it is in the best interests of their ongoing moral development to look upon the people of this city, those whom they have betrayed, face to face. That, and to be in the presence of an irritated dragon.”

An audible snap entered her voice, and the row of prisoners nearly fell into disorder as four separate individuals fainted on the spot, their collapse pulling others out of the line. It took a few minutes for the Dragonlancers to pull everyone back into position, which they did briskly but with no undue force. Izayaroa had firm opinions about police brutality; the enforcers of her law were notably polite toward the citizenry even when she was not looming over them in the flesh.

“Look at their faces,” the Empress commanded once order was restored. “From a position as high as mine, people can blend together. They can start to look like a blur, denuded of individual significance. It is a ruler’s most difficult duty to safeguard against this tendency. The same can happen from even the humblest position, however, to those who forget that the public is not some vague morass. People are individuals, whose lives depend upon the proper functioning of the state. The many and the one form a singular whole. You told yourselves, when you made the decisions you did, that the harm would be so diffuse that no one would feel it. In so doing, you betrayed the entire ocean of faces before you. Those, and the thousands of times their number outside this chamber.”

Izayaroa let that hover over them for a deliberately long moment before speaking once more, her voice pitched lower and her tone overtly contemptuous.

“Shame on you.”

They all stood with lowered heads, now, unable or refusing to meet the accusing eyes of the people gathered before them. At her words, several physically flinched. More than a few were now softly weeping.

“From here,” Izayaroa finally continued, raising her head to the greatest height her long neck would allow, “this is a matter for the courts. The law will hear testimonies, gauge guilt, and assign penalties. In the unlikely event it should transpire that any among you are deemed innocent, then for the spectacle made of you today you shall receive my personal apologies, and due compensation for your suffering. To all present: I remind you that the cure for corruption is law and order, not retaliation. The system was faltering. It has been repaired, and must be allowed to function. Without law, we are little better than beasts ambushing one another in the jungle. Those of my people who have misstepped, to the detriment of society, shall be corrected by society’s own means.”

She turned her head again, and as before it was a signal. The Dragonlancers saluted and firmly but gently urged the prisoners back into motion. Those accused moved with more alacrity now as they were marched back out the side door, far more eager to leave the audience chamber than they had been to enter it.

“None of that requires the personal touch of an Empress,” Izayaroa continued after the door what boomed shut behind the last of them. “But in this case, I feel the need to remind the world at large, and in particular any who might be tempted to take advantage of my people, that beyond the farthest edge of that bad decision lie the claws of a dragon. As such, I am going to exercise that personal touch in addressing the clever architects of this grand scheme.”

She rose, and in motion the pall of fear which had laid over the room during her long silence returned, now amplified. Every motion was deliberate, sinuous, a symphony of unthinkably immense power under the most flawless control. Izayaroa got to her feet, her tail arcing out over the heads of the front few ranks as she repositioned it behind her. Wind whispered through the room, disturbing hair and clothing, as she adjusted her wings.

Now upright and facing the onlookers head on—and in particular, one lone figure kneeling directly before her—the Golden Empress extended her neck forward and down, fixing her eyes upon him.

“Samed Melchavidan.”