TVisTV Book 4: Chapter 39 (RAW) (Patreon)

Currently on holiday so I can write a little more!

Chapter 39 - Close to the Chest

Do not tell secrets to those whose faith and silence you have not already tested.

- Elizabeth I.

Meilin’s hands tightened inside her sleeves as the Hall of August Governance held its breath.

“General Fan came to speak about the First Prince. The conversation became hostile. She challenged Lady Seraphina, and both agreed to fight unarmed,” she somehow managed, before pausing.

No one hurried her.

“To the best of my knowledge, neither woman used magic,” Meilin asserted at last.

Fan’s head rose sharply. Seraphina allowed only the smallest tightening of her expression. A part of her had expected this.

The First Minister of the Right studied Meilin. “You are certain?”

“I saw no visible spell, nor heard either party chant,” the young girl affirmed.

Could General Fan’s White Tiger have manifested without being visible to you?” the minister replied, a little annoyed.

Meilin hesitated, lips quivering slightly. “I do not know.”

“And Lady Seraphina’s professed oracular abilities?” he pressed.

“My eyes saw no spell,” she repeated. “And no chant.”

“Again,” the First Minister of the Right insisted, “that does not sound to me like certainty. But, would you say that either duellists possessed abilities that might be construed to me magical?”

Meilin swallowed, seeming to wild under their collective gazes. “No… I mean, yes.”

The Emperor leaned forward. “And the six soldiers?”

The girl closed her eyes for the smallest moment. “They did not attack Lady Seraphina.”

A murmur swept the chamber, and Fan breathed out, almost a sob.

Meilin forced herself onward. “They remained where they were. Lady Seraphina ordered their deaths. Her Knights obeyed.”

The hall erupted as officials spoke over one another. The Minister of War demanded silence. The First Minister of the Right raised his court tablet and shouted at three lesser ministers who had apparently forgotten that rank required them to whisper their alarm.

Seraphina stood perfectly still.

The Emperor watched Meilin rather than her. “You are accusing the household of a foreign duke of executing six Imperial soldiers without provocation.”

Meilin’s voice became smaller. “I am describing what I witnessed.”

“And yet you are uncertain whether either combatant used supernatural power.”

“I could not see any.”

“You followed General Fan when she was removed from the garden,” the Emperor noted.

Meilin looked toward the floor. “She was injured.”

Erdian eyes drifted lazily across the hall before focusing back on Lady Wen. “You have known General Fan longer than Lady Seraphina?”

The girl bit her bottom lip. “Yes… I knew of her.”

“You admire her?” pressed the man upon the throne.

The question caught her, and Meilin’s eyes flicked toward Fan. “Yes,” she admitted tersely. “But, I am not the only one here who holds admiration for a hero of the Empire.”

The admission sent its own interpretation rippling through the court. Fan stared at her as though willing her to speak with greater force, greater certainty—to drive the truth through every layer of power gathered in the hall.

Meilin tried. “Your Imperial Majesty, believe me. I know what I saw.”

But her hesitation, her faltering confidence, and the weight of the court made it sound as though she did not.

“You failed your Charisma check,” muttered Seraphina to herself under her breath.

That was the trouble with moral people. They believed uncertainty demonstrated honesty. In politics, uncertainty merely invited others to decide what you had meant.

The Emperor regarded her for several moments.

“Violence creates confusion,” he judged at last, “particularly when passions run high. You had just witnessed two women attempting to tear one another apart and a general nearly drown. It is possible that your perception of what followed was incomplete. Men returning from battle have spoken of similar confusion.”

Meilin’s face fell. Fan’s expression went hollow.

I win. The Emperor is choosing the easier path, Seraphina thought with delight.

Hidden beneath her robes, Cornelia stirred in whatever dream she was dreaming.

The Emperor continued before either could answer. “We have written statements from palace servants, guards, foreign Knights, and Lady de Savant. Most support the account presented by Lady Seraphina.”

Most, Seraphina thought, was a wonderfully flexible word.

“The physical evidence confirms that the dead men were armed,” the Emperor went on. “It also confirms that General Fan entered the residence of a foreign guest to confront her over the First Prince, issued a challenge, and subsequently threatened that guest’s life before witnesses.”

Fan bowed her head in defeat.

The Emperor’s voice hardened. “Fan Xiwei, your victories have brought great honor to the Empire. That honor does not place you above discipline. You allowed a private attachment to bring armed followers into an Imperial residence. You endangered a guest under my protection, fought a duel over a Prince of the Blood, and lost control of yourself before this court.”

“I did not lose control,” Fan voiced hoarsely. “She murdered my men before my very eyes, with no provocation.”

“You have made that accusation,” he shot back, raising his voice just ever so slightly. “The moment you entered the Spring Palace with violence in your heart, was provocation enough. Had you done so at my own residence, you would have been cut down at the threshold for that insolence. The Spring Palace is no less sacrosanct just because we have foreign dignitaries guesting there.

The older man closed his eyes for a few long seconds. “You are censured before this court. You will surrender your command pending review by the Ministry of War. You will make no public statement concerning Lady Seraphina, the duel, or the dead without permission. You will behave.”

Fan’s face drained of color. The officers of the Ministry of War lowered their eyes. The Emperor turned to Huan, and the First Prince went very still. After a moment, Huan met his father’s gaze with open defiance. Then he looked toward Seraphina as though he meant to speak, only to master himself at the last moment.

“This matter also raises questions concerning your proposed marriage,” Emperor Erdian continued as if he were discussing the weather. “An engagement intended to strengthen the throne cannot be permitted to produce bloodshed within its own capital. I will reconsider whether the arrangement remains suitable.”

Fan’s composure finally cracked. “Your Imperial Majesty—”

“You are dismissed.”

She looked toward Huan, and for one terrible moment, the great hall, the ministers, the guards, and the Emperor himself seemed to vanish from her awareness. There was only the young man she had once dragged from the snow and the answer she wanted from him.

Huan took half a step forward, then stopped. His face held anger, grief, guilt, and something Seraphina could not quite identify. His eyes moved from Seraphina, then back to Fan’s bandaged face. In the end, he said nothing. Could do nothing, and that silence struck Fan more effectively than any blow Seraphina had landed.

The Flower General bowed stiffly to the throne and allowed the guards to lead her away.

As Fan passed Seraphina, their eyes met. There was no shouting this time, no accusation—only the promise that this was far from over. That it had only just begun. It was the sort of hatred from which old tales were born.

Fan shaped a single word with her lips. 

Witch.

Seraphina smiled faintly, showing the slightest edge of teeth. She had been called worse. Others had promised to do far worse to her. For promises, unlike prophecies, were infinitely easier to understand.

***

They returned to the Spring Palace beneath a heavy escort.

Meilin rode in a separate carriage. Seraphina did not object to this. After all, the girl required space to appreciate the consequences of misplaced honesty over more valuable loyalty.

Once they arrived, Desdemona waited only long enough for their attendants to remove their outer cloaks before taking Seraphina by the wrist.

“A word,” she said, her tone unusually serious.

Seraphina allowed herself to be led into a private side room overlooking the garden. Hana’s fresh grave could be seen beyond the window, marked by a small stone and surrounded by an absurd quantity of fruit.

Desdemona closed the door. “The guttersnipe, she betrayed you.”

Seraphina selected a seat beside the window, brushing some dirt off her clothes that did not exist. “Did she now?”

Her friend’s eyes narrowed, a little of the wildness that was her birthright flashing. “She stood before the Emperor and almost called you a murderer outright.”

“She described what she believed she saw,” Seraphina refuted.

“That is betrayal,” came Desdemona's flat response.

“Come now. The girl was foisted upon me, not chosen by me—and she certainly did not choose me. She has been in my service for only a few weeks, if that. It was poor judgment, nothing more. Not, I think, an act of deliberate betrayal on her part,” the blonde girl argued.  

Desdemona stared at her. “Sera.”

Seraphina sighed. “Sit down, Desdemona. You are looming.”

Her friend remained standing for another moment before lowering herself onto the opposite cushion.

“You should release her from your service,” Desdemona insisted. “Send her back to her father. Or somewhere far enough away that she cannot continue whispering into the ears of your enemies.”

The blonde girl raised a delicate eyebrow. “Lady Wen does not whisper.”

“Lady Wen spoke plainly before the entire court. In no uncertain terms, mind you. That, Sera—in my opinion—is considerably worse.”

“On the contrary, my dear Desdemona. It makes her altogether very predictable.”

Desdemona’s expression remained decidedly unconvinced.

Seraphina folded her hands upon her lap. “Meilin acted within the limited boundaries of her morality. She believes that truth possesses value independent of its usefulness. She believes innocent people should not die. She believes loyalty does not require her to lie before her Emperor.”

“All very tedious.”

“Painfully so.”

“Then why keep her?”

“Because I understand her. And, because she is by any common measure a ‘good person’.”

Seraphina looked through the window toward the small grave in the garden. “A person ruled by greed may be purchased, but someone else may offer a higher price. A person ruled by fear may obey, until they become more afraid of another. A person ruled by ambition will remain loyal only while their path rises beside yours.”

She looked back at Desdemona. “Meilin, however, is ruled by conscience. That makes her irritating in its way, but also remarkably consistent. She will oppose me whenever I cross the boundaries she has drawn within her own mind, but she will not invent new ones merely because someone flatters or pressures her into doing so. And, as it happens, she serves as a useful measure of certain moral questions.” 

“Still, she testified against you,” her friend insisted.

“And failed. I emerged the stronger for it. I have no need of people who agree with me at every turn. One occasionally requires someone willing to say no, or to simply to doubt, lest one drown in one’s own version of the truth.”

“That is hardly the point.”

“It is entirely the point.”

Seraphina leaned back. “Also, had I dismissed her before the inquiry, the court would have assumed I feared her testimony. Had I punished her afterward, I would confirm that her account injured me. Worse, I would drive her directly toward Fan Xiwei, or someone of her ilk, where her knowledge of my household, my habits, and my affairs might become useful.”

Desdemona’s mouth tightened. “Better to keep one’s enemies close?”

“Meilin is not my enemy.”

“Not yet,” de Savant snorted.

“Then it is best she becomes one where I can watch the process.”

Desdemona was silent at this.

Seraphina continued. “More importantly, like I said before, there is value in keeping a moral person nearby. They serve as a measurement.”

“A measurement of what?”

The blonde girl’s lips curved up in a faint smile. “How far one has gone.”

Desdemona laughed once, though there was little humor in it. “And if she decides you have gone too far?”

“Then I will know precisely when she decided it.”

Her friend looked toward the grave outside. “I do not like it.”

“You do not need to.”

“She will betray you again.”

“No. She will behave according to her nature again. Betrayal requires the breaking of an expectation. I expect Meilin to be Meilin,” de Sariens responded.

Seraphina reached across the table and rested her hand lightly over Desdemona’s. “Better a thing you understand than a thing you do not. Better still to keep such things close enough that they cannot surprise you.”

Desdemona looked down at their joined hands.

At last, she sighed. “Very well.”

Her agreement sounded forced, but agreement was agreement.

Seraphina squeezed her fingers once and released them. Outside, servants moved through the garden, placing yet more offerings beside Hana’s grave. One bowed before the little marker. Another touched two fingers to her forehead in a gesture of prayer.

The story was already becoming stronger than the truth.

Seraphina watched them for a moment, then turned away. “Milly!” she called.

The maid opened the door almost immediately, proving she had been listening from the corridor.

“Yes, milady?”

“Send someone to invite Lady Wen to supper.”

Desdemona stared at her and rolled her eyes. Seraphina just smiled.

The young noblewoman stood up slowly. “And tell the kitchens to prepare something she likes. She has had a rather difficult day.”

Forgiveness, as her mother had taught her, could both be a weapon and a chained weight.