TVisTV Book 4: Chapter 40 (RAW) (Patreon)

Chapter 40 - A Kindness Repaid

The basic tool for the manipulation of reality is the manipulation of words. If you can control the meaning of words, you can control the people who must use the words.

- Philip K. Dick

Lady Wen Meilin was subdued. There was no kinder or more accurate word for what Seraphina observed.

For several days, the girl seemed diminished, as though some invisible hand had taken hold of the fine strings that held her upright and loosened them one by one. She walked with her shoulders drawn slightly inward. When addressed, she answered correctly but quietly, and whenever Seraphina’s attention settled upon her, she seemed to shrink inside her own robes.

Desdemona, in her particularly Desdemona-like fashion, took considerable pleasure in tending the wound without ever touching it directly.

She never openly accused Meilin of betrayal. That would have been crude, and Desdemona was capable of subtlety whenever cruelty made the effort entertaining. Instead, she asked whether Meilin wished to inspect the kitchens for hidden assassins before they ate. She wondered aloud whether the Imperial guards assigned to the Spring Palace could be trusted, or if Meilin had perhaps recognized any of them from Fan’s army. Once, while Miriam poured tea, Desdemona remarked that loyalty was much like porcelain: beautiful, useful, and impossible to restore completely once cracked.

Seraphina allowed these little torments to continue, giving her fellow Aranthian her head.

While this was going on, news of the duel and its aftermath spread through Tianhua. The capital’s storytellers, servants, merchants, scholars, soldiers, prostitutes, priests, and bored noblewomen took the facts apart and rebuilt them according to personal preference.

In one version, Fan Xiwei had transformed entirely into a white tiger and attempted to devour Seraphina before a divine bird blinded her. In another, the six soldiers had been possessed by demons from the eastern marches. A particularly inventive version claimed that Seraphina had died beneath the pond and returned to life carrying the mandate of some forgotten northern god.

The Ministry of Rites denied that last story with such force that it gained immediate popularity.

Fan’s followers remained assassins in every official account. Their poisoned ceremonial blades were displayed before investigators of the Imperial Guard, while physicians solemnly confirmed that the substance upon them was potent enough to kill a grown man.

Venom, actually.

Seraphina had instructed Miriam to coat the blades with a carefully diluted preparation harvested from Cornelia. The physicians of the Empire, unfamiliar with the particular secretions of a Hydra, had naturally described it as an exotic poison.

A jealous woman employing poison was a story as old as civilization, and people trusted familiar stories far more readily than complicated truths. And for several days, Seraphina permitted the present state of affairs to continue before deciding that it was time to let Meilin in from the cold.

A creature could only be wound so tightly before it broke, after all. Broken things were sometimes useful, but they were rarely pleasant company.

So, she summoned Meilin to one of the smaller receiving rooms of the Spring Palace shortly after the noon meal. The room looked out upon a narrow courtyard planted with flowering shrubs and carefully arranged stones, now free from the marks of her earlier duel. Early spring sunlight passed through the lattice windows, laying patterned shadows across the polished floor. A low table had been prepared between two cushioned seats, and Miriam served jasmine tea with osmanthus cakes in the manner of the Empire.

Meilin sat opposite Seraphina with faultless posture, though her hands remained hidden within her sleeves.

Seraphina lifted her cup and breathed in the fragrance before taking a small sip. “Now then, Lady Wen,” she began, “I do not know what has gotten you so upset. I am not some mistress of the Empire, ready to flay her servants for the smallest indiscretion.”

The lie emerged with the sweetest of smiles, and Meilin’s silence was her only answer at first.

Her gaze rested upon the tea between them, though she did not touch it. The poor girl had clearly spent days preparing explanations, apologies, and perhaps even a dignified request to return to her father’s household. Now that the opportunity had arrived, those carefully arranged words had abandoned her.

Seraphina waited until at last, something inside Meilin gave way. “I thought you would be displeased,” the Imperial girl admitted.

“Oh, I cannot say I was pleased,” Seraphina replied soothingly. “But neither can I say that your reaction was entirely unexpected.”

Meilin looked up cautiously.

“You have conflicted loyalties,” Seraphina continued. “Loyalties to your house, your father, the court, and, of course, the Empire. It would be unreasonable of me to pretend otherwise.”

The girl’s expression loosened by the smallest degree. It was time to twist the knife.

“As a foreigner, all alone in this court, I understand why you would choose to side with those more powerful than myself,” Seraphina said with a quiet sigh. “I would have made an easy target.”

Meilin’s head rose sharply. “That was not—”

“I expected it from them,” Seraphina went on as though she had not spoken. “Ministers defend the Empire. Generals defend one another. Princes defend their pride. Such things are natural. But I confess that I did not expect it from you.”

Seraphina lowered her gaze to her tea, arranging her features into one of subdued dignity and hidden hurt. “I seem to be far too trusting.”

Meilin’s face changed beautifully. Shock came first, followed by indignation, confusion, and then the correct measure of humiliation.

Seraphina continued before the girl could find stable ground. “Your father sent you into my service because his lands border those of my country. He understood that friendship between us might benefit both our houses, especially during these difficult and turbulent times. I wonder what he would think if I informed him of your indiscretion.”

“I never betrayed you,” Meilin protested, finding a little strength at last. “I told the court what I witnessed.”

Seraphina waved the objection aside with her fan and concealed a smile behind its painted surface. “Of course you did. You meant no harm. You merely became confused after witnessing a violent confrontation. His Imperial Majesty himself recognized as much.”

“I was not confused.”

“No?” Seraphina asked, lowering her fan.

Meilin stiffened.

The blonde girl’s smile held razors. “Then you deliberately omitted the poison upon the soldiers’ blades.”

The other girl blinked, and it was a wonderfully genuine confusion. “I did not see any poison,” she said dumbly.

“Of course you did not, because one cannot ‘see’ a poison. However, the palace physicians found it all the same,” Seraphina corrected lightly. “Though it matters little now.”

Meilin’s lips parted, but no words came.

“You may ask the palace physicians or the investigators of the Imperial Guard,” Seraphina continued. “The substance has been tested. It was found upon each of the ceremonial blades carried by General Fan’s men.”

“That is not what…” Meilin began, then stopped. “I mean, they never drew them.”

“And yet they brought poisoned weapons into the residence of a foreign guest,” snorted Seraphina delicately, raising one eyebrow.

“They surrendered their other weapons at the gate. Those blades were permitted by military custom.”

Seraphina allowed the silence to stretch. “Then you believe this to be a conspiracy?”

“No. I did not say that.”

“You believe the physicians lied?”

“No!” the other girl half-wailed.

“The Imperial Guard?”

“I did not say that either.”

“Then perhaps you believe I placed the substance upon the weapons myself. A rather convoluted thing if you ask me,” the Aranthian girl said dismissively.

Meilin stared at her blankly.

Seraphina let the hurt arrive slowly. It began in the eyes, followed by a slight tightening around the mouth. Her posture remained proud, but no longer effortlessly so. She looked like someone who had finally grown weary of suffering accusations with grace.

“You insult me by calling me a liar,” she sighed quietly, “but I suppose I have grown accustomed to it.”

“I did not call you a liar. I only said that I did not see poison upon their weapons.”

De Sariens gave her a ghost of a smile. “And, as I said before, poison is often rather difficult to see, Lady Wen. That is one reason people find it useful.”

Meilin looked down.

Seraphina took another sip of tea. The jasmine had been steeped slightly too long. She would have to speak with Miriam about that later.

“I thought they had not attacked you,” Meilin said after a moment.

Seraphina set down her cup. “Lady Wen, you saw six armed men accompany a woman who entered my residence in a rage. You saw that woman challenge me, threaten my life, invoke supernatural power, and nearly kill me. When the fight ended, her followers began moving while their commander screamed threats.”

“They only stepped forward.”

“Yes. Toward me, and, no doubt, meant me harm,” insisted the Aranthian noblewoman.

Meilin’s hands tightened inside her sleeves. Seraphina studied her carefully. The girl was not yet convinced, but conviction was not necessary. Certainty merely had to be injured.

“You saw part of what happened,” Seraphina continued. “You then decided that your understanding of those few moments outweighed the judgment of the Emperor, the Imperial Guard, the palace physicians, the Ministry of Rites, my household, and every other witness who gave testimony.”

“That is not fair.”

Seraphina’s eyes turned steely and hard. “Nothing about the situation was fair. General Fan was not fair when she entered my residence to command whom I could receive. Her followers were not fair when they carried assassin blades into my home. And you were not fair when you placed the most damaging interpretation possible upon my actions before the throne.”

Lady Wen looked like she wished to cry. “I told the truth.”

“You told what you believed to be true.”

“That is the same thing!”

“No,” Seraphina replied. “It is not.”

The words landed softly as Seraphina leaned back and regarded the Imperial girl across the table. “Truth is complete. Belief is only the fragment one has managed to see. You saw frightened men standing still for a moment. You did not see the poison. You did not know their true intentions. You did not know what Fan might have ordered before entering the palace. Yet you spoke before the Emperor as if your ignorance were evidence.”

Meilin’s expression tightened. “What should I have done?”

“You might have admitted that you did not know.”

“I did.”

“Yes,” Seraphina said. “When asked about General Fan’s power. Yet when speaking of me, you suddenly discovered certainty.”

The girl recoiled as if struck.

Seraphina reached for one of the osmanthus cakes. The small pastry had been shaped into a flower and glazed with honey.

“I do not think you wished me harm,” she said. “That is why you are still here.”

Meilin’s eyes moved toward her.

“Desdemona believes I am being foolishly lenient.”

That much, at least, was entirely true.

“She thinks your testimony should be treated as an act of betrayal. Milly is terrified that you might report every little irregularity in my household to the court.”

From beside the wall, Miriam made a small, startled sound, but Seraphina pointedly ignored her.

“I defended you,” she continued. “I explained that you were frightened, overwhelmed, and attempting to reconcile obligations that no girl should have been forced to carry.”

Meilin’s composure faltered. “You defended me?”

“Of course.”

It was a marvelous word. Of course suggested that the kindness had been automatic. A natural thing.

“Later, I told them that Lady Wen Meilin was an honorable young woman who had made an error of judgment. I reminded them that you stood between General Fan and me when we were prepared to fight with live weapons. I said that courage such as yours should not be forgotten merely because your later testimony was… unhelpful,” declared the young noblewoman

“I did not know.”

“No,” Seraphina agreed. “You did not.”

Meilin finally reached for her tea, but her hands trembled enough to stir small ripples across its surface.

Seraphina allowed her to drink.

There was little profit in pushing further. A skilled hand knew when the knife had reached sufficient depth.

“I do not require you to apologize,” Seraphina said.

Meilin stared into her cup. That, naturally, made an apology almost inevitable.

“I am sorry,” the other girl whispered.

Seraphina reached across the table and placed one hand lightly over Meilin’s concealed fingers.

“I have no wish to lose your friendship over a misunderstanding.”

Meilin’s eyes grew wet.

You have gained 1 Charisma

The blonde girl, in her secret heart of hearts, smiled.

“You may go,” Seraphine ordered. “Take the remainder of the afternoon for yourself and think carefully about what has happened. I expect to see you at supper.”

Meilin rose and bowed deeply.

“Yes, Lady Seraphina.”

She turned toward the door, hesitated as though she wished to say something more, then thought better of it and left.

“You steeped this too long, Milly,” Seraphina observed.

The maid blinked. “Milady?”

“The tea. It is bitter.”

“Oh. I am terribly sorry,” Miriam replied, a small quaver in her voice.

“You should be.”

Miriam hurried forward to replace the pot.

Seraphina selected another osmanthus cake and examined the delicate petals stamped into its surface. She ate the cake, and it was excellent.