Moonshadows

She walks in beauty, like the night

Of cloudless climes and starry skies;

And all that's best of dark and bright

Meet in her aspect and her eyes;

Thus mellowed to that tender light

Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

- Lord Byron

I

o0o

Prince Kuojin stared at the vista that spread out before him, the pale spires of Whitecastle jutting up into the sky like ivory daggers. Bleached from several centuries' worth of sunlit days, the pale stone was visible from miles around. To the people of the kingdom of Araithale, the castle – and the city and walls that surrounded it – was a testament of strength and a symbol of their god's blessings upon the land.

A faint smirk appeared on his lips as he recalled his time spent within Whitecastle. Back then he'd been nothing more than a servant, the son of a northern Araithalen woman who'd lowered herself to be the wife of a man of Hgngish descent. He'd endured the scorn and prejudice of adults and children alike due to his obvious mixed heritage.

It'd been nearly a decade since he'd last seen this place. However, he was no longer someone to be looked down on. He was now a prince of the Illustrious Empire of Onshae Thamo, son of the Emperor Imonje, the Most Exalted Hand. He would relish the expression on King Heliert's face when the old man saw who it was that had come to take his crown away from him.

He turned his head, his dark green eyes fixing upon the woman next to him. With hair as dark as his own, and skin like alabaster, the similarity between the two could not be missed even though he was only half Thamonese. It'd been remarked upon more than once in the Imperial Court how the two could have such similar facial expressions. She had a slight smile on her lips that mirrored his own.

"How does it feel? Experiencing any nostalgia?" the woman asked, her eyes as dark as her hair as she regarded him. Like him, she was clad in metal-edged leather armor of exquisite quality, lightweight yet no less efficient in its design, especially considering its wearer.

"Perhaps a bit, Aunt. However, I can assure you, that is no impediment to our goal."

"I did not think it would be. However, I know there is a prize you seek. I will not bar you from claiming it, but I must remind you that a long time has passed." Her voice was gentle, yet carried an undertone of steel.

He took a deep breath. Azami was right, and he was already aware of the possibilities. Things could, and usually did, change with the passing of years, and people certainly were no exception to the rule. He'd been aware of this truth for years, especially as his person was evidence of just how much weight this maxim held. In his case, the changes had been positive. He could only hope that for the person he longed to see, the years had not eroded what he remembered about that long-lost friend.

"We will see what happens. My commitment to our goal will remain the same regardless."

Azami's smile became warmer. "I only want to see you happy, regardless of what our duty may be."

His response to that was a brief nod before he turned around to face the army that was massed before him and his aunt. Banners of white fluttered in the breeze, the black shape on them easily discernible as a hand with its palm facing the viewer, its fingers and thumb straight as if to signal 'stop'. The sigil was recognized across the empire of Onshae Thamo, and even in Araithale, where this dark hand stood for their greatest enemy. In reality, it was the crest of the mighty clan that ruled Onshae Thamo, the dark hand a literal and figurative symbol of their power.

One of the commanders approached the pair, bowing his head before looking up at them.

"The men are in readiness, and those within the city are prepared for their part."

The three of them glanced over in the direction of Whitecastle, where the forces of several kingdoms surrounded it, well-rested and well-fed thanks to the plunder of the farms and orchards outside the city walls. Meanwhile, the people behind the walls had little if anything left out of their stores, and the waters of the river that flowed through the city could only offer so much sustenance, especially if it had been all but all fished out by hostile forces. The flow of the river itself had been reduced to the designs of both Nature and man, a dry, warm summer exploited by the seasoned Watermages of Yngis and the elite Earthmages of Viruch. The shallow, muddy, waste-strewn waters that finally trickled out of the other side of the city was a testament to the nearly countless living souls crammed within the confines of Whitecastle, nearly tripling its original population from the influx of refugees that had made their way from the south and east parts of the kingdom over the last two seasons, further swelling the refugee flow that had started from the north.

Kuojin remembered well the scarcity of open land within the city walls, vegetable gardens or chicken coops would have been plucked clean. Anything larger was certainly devoured earlier on in the siege. He almost felt sorry for the civilian souls behind the walls, facing the difficult choice between hunger from within or soldiers from outside.

But then, the Thamonese had offered the chance to make a peaceful surrender. What fault was it of theirs if the King of Araithale chose to decline these terms?

"Excellent," Azami replied. "Let us tarry no longer, then." She lightly dug her heels into the side of her russet-colored horse, and Kuojin did the same, setting his ebony steed in a brisk trot.

As one, the army moved, the blacks and grays of the massed soldiers making it seem as if a shadow was moving across the verdant land.

o0o

Princess Sialeni was silent as she stood in the shadows of the chapel as her mother and younger sister prayed to the Heavenly Father. Around them in various clusters were women of varying ranks from a chambermaid and a scullery girl to the Queen's ladies-in-waiting, or what remained of the retinue. There were also several men, mostly either too old or too disabled to fight, and a few young boys.

Her gaze moved along the statue that stared down imperiously at the huddled masses in the chamber, the white marble chiseled into the figure of a bearded man seated upon a throne. The carved features were set in a slight frown, the window behind the statue strategically designed to illuminate him from behind to further the majestic aura the larger-than-life sculpture was meant to convey. Around him, the rest of the Divine Family were arranged, from the Mother dutifully standing behind his shoulder, to the Son who was on one knee at his other side, and the Daughter kneeling at his feet. All four figures had been carved with great care, but it was clear who was meant to dominate the scene.

The Heavenly Father was supposed to keep them safe. The populace paid their seithe. The Earthfather and his priests preached the word of the Heavenly Father. The monks and nuns provided valuable service, such as writing letters for illiterate peasants or reading to them, creating books – namely copies of the Holy Book – or taking care of sick pilgrims, the disabled, or orphans, among other various acts of goodwill in His name. His infinite wisdom was inscribed into the Holy Book, its passages known even to those who could not read, and oft-recited on a wide variety of occasions. Every final day of a sennight was a Father's Day, and observances were made as such. And so the rule of the Oronac family had lasted for centuries since the last great expulsion of the Hgngu after the end of the Peregrination.

Eighty-two decades of summers had passed since the first Araithalen ships landed upon the shores of this continent, seeing the expansion of the mighty Kingdom of Araithale, the lands of the Hgngu, Dakulians, Viruchids, and Yngsians diminishing with succeeding Araithalen conquests. Each summer solstice came and passed to mark the years and the promise that the Heavenly Father would give his people many more fruitful years.

The last New Year's celebration had occurred after several months of siege. By then, it'd been over half a year since they received news of a Thamonese army landing on the shores of the Yngsian Province. The King had laughed, confident that his armies would bold the infidels off.

But the Yngsian province revolted against King Heliert, assisting the Thamonese in their southwestern march. At the same time, the kingdoms of Viruch and Dakul over the southern mountains started their northeastern march. The rich southern Green fell to the Thamonese-assisted Viruchids and Dakulians after a crushing defeat of the army led by General Dale Starsmore.

Reinforcements were quickly called for from all provinces of Araithale, but the well-prepared Thamonese and their Yngsian, Viruchid, and Dakulian allies captured villages and towns, choking off supply trains, and only the Heavenly Father knew what was done to their prisoners. Even several powerful Houses had neglected to respond to the call of arms, for all purposes stepping aside as the Thamonese continued their invasion. Less than a month before the siege began, the prosperous city of Helport, one of Araithale's biggest and most well-defended strongholds, shipping, and trading centers, fell to the Dark Hand. Even at this news, Sialeni's father remained stubborn. The kingdom had lasted for centuries, and it would not come to its end. The Heavenly Father would save them all at the most desperate moment and strike the Thamonese down to leave the Araithalens to reap their immense resources. And the Heavenly Father knew they needed resources, for after half a year of siege, there was plenty of grumbling among the nobles and servants alike. Unless the Father chose to intervene with a miracle, the victory of Onshae Thamo was virtually guaranteed.

It wasn't as if she hadn't seen portents of this, however. She was an avid student of history, and read whatever she could get her hands on regarding Araithale or other kingdoms. Over the last couple of centuries, the Oronac kings had become increasingly arrogant and complacent, believing that the Heavenly Father gave them the right to rule over Araithale and do as they pleased. She'd certainly heard enough times from her father how their bloodline was blessed and that their centuries of sovereignty would become millennia. Though often excluded from many Courtly affairs due to her sex, she did not cease her efforts to glean what she could from any possible source.

Only if I had been the ruler of this country, Sialeni mused as the words of her mother and sister made their way to her ears. Then she would have sought an alliance with Onshae Thamo, instead of antagonizing them like her father enjoyed doing. Especially given the shared bitter history between the two countries.

Her gaze moved down to the pink linen fabric that covered much of her body, with blue and yellow flowers embroidered along the hem and collar. Around her waist was a girdle of a darker shade of pink, from which hung a fan and a small purse. She loathed wearing the color and preferred dark, somber colors, but her mother had insisted that she wear this as it was viewed as pleasing for a woman to wear colors seen as feminine, and in these dark times, shouldn't they try to be as pleasing to the Father as they could? There were times when she would fight with Mother over clothing, but she'd decided to not expend her energy over a matter that at this time, was trivial.

Her mother's voice became louder as she beseeched the Heavenly Father for safety and prosperity, reminding the deity of the obeisance of the family, and their faithful observation of the sacred rites. One would think that the New Years' celebration would have been pleasing enough to the Heavenly Father, for King Heliert had spared no expense in arranging for the observances and rituals, rapidly depleting a good percentage of the city's stores. The city storehouses had been used to feed the refugees that had fled their towns and farmlands for the safety of Whitecastle. None could fault King Heliert for his role as host, and many peasants enjoyed the finest meal they'd ever had in their lives, but inevitably, the seven days of celebration had to come to an end, and the siege continued.

Naturally, the prayers continued as well. Day after day, the monks and nuns prayed, and the priests gave out increasingly passionate and desperate sermons to the masses. Ordinary Araithalens were exhorted to show their faith, and pray, and fast, and do everything they could to please the Heavenly Father.

There were several acerbic things that Sialeni had to say to that, but she kept her lips pressed together. Her relationship with her mother was often fraught with conflict, but in such a dire time, she respected her mother's need for solace, even if she felt that this solace was better sought from a different source. Or a different, considerably more productive action altogether...

"Your Majesties!" she heard the breathless voice of a servant call out, and her head snapped up to see the intruder to the royal chapel. The middle-aged woman, one of the kitchen servants, was flustered, her bosom heaving with the exertion of her harried journey up the stairs and down the halls to the chamber. "The Dark Hand has breached the gates!"

Queen Selestia was a fair woman, but Sialeni could swear that her skin became several shades lighter. Her younger daughter, Estelleta, gave out a sudden cry as she grabbed her mother's sleeve.

"Heavenly Father preserve us!"

So far, Sialeni had made no attempt to argue with her mother and sister, or intrude upon their prayers. However, at this, she was unable to rein in her frustration, and the words came tumbling out of her mouth almost before she realized she had said them.

"If he cared at all, would he permit the Dark Hand to make its way to our very doorstep?" she demanded.

"This is no time for blasphemy!" Selestia snapped at her older daughter.

"It was a simple question, and one that I feel is very justified in this case," Sialeni replied coolly. Despite her icy demeanor, she felt her heart pounding. Since she was little, she, like any other resident of Araithale, had been told often enough about how depraved the people of Onshae Thamo were.

Some of the things she'd heard were so lurid that she was sure they must be exaggerated, yet the people repeating such stories insisted that they must be true. After all, the Onshae Thamo were ruled by the Dark Hand and took pride in practicing black magic. Such people could only have darkness in their depraved hearts. It was said that they ate babies, that old men would take young boys to bed so that they could use their dark magic to drink the youth from the child to extend their lifespan, that the vaginae of the women were sideways instead of front to back, and even that the penises of the men were so small that they had to find other ways to gain sexual satisfaction which included mutilating their lovers. And on the stories went. To become a prisoner of the Onshae Thamo would be a fate worse than death.

Sialeni didn't doubt that she and her sister, and even their mother, would be valuable trophies for their conquerors. And the other women in the room could expect to be treated similarly once the Dark Hand had them in its grip.

I will die before I allow myself to be dishonored, she promised herself. For most women, this meant that they would not have to live with the shame of living through degradation and the knowledge that others would know of their shame. For Sialeni, it wasn't about what other people would think of her, but about whatever pain and suffering that the conquerors would wish to inflict upon her.

"Perhaps the Heavenly Father has lured the Onshae Thamo to our doorstep so that he might strike them down in their greatest moment of pride!" Estelleta pointed out before Selestia could issue another rebuke.

The older woman smiled at her youngest child with open approval, lightly touching Estelleta's cheek. The two looked almost identical but for age, both of them bearing the same golden-blond hair, cornflower-blue eyes, and peaches-and-cream skin. Next to them, Sialeni looked washed out, her hair closer to gray than gold, and her eyes as pale as ice, lacking the warmth of a summer sky.

"Of course, Estelleta! What else could it be but these depraved infidels being lured to their greatest downfall?"

"You had better hope you are right, Estelleta," Sialeni said. It was the closest thing she would give to a concession to her sister's statement. Selestia looked at her and gave a rare nod of approval.

Suddenly, the window behind the statues went dark. Estelleta gave out a frightened shriek, and Sialeni blinked in shock as she looked up at the window. There was one lit lamp in the chamber, so there was just enough illumination for its occupants to be able to see one another within the radius of light offered by the flame. She rushed over to the door and looked down the hallway, seeing that the small window at the end of the hallway was dark.

She turned to see the others staring at her, and she slowly shook her head.

"Oh!" Estelleta gave out a quiet sob.

"Come, let us pray," said one of the other noble ladies. "Surely the Heavenly Father seeks to test our faith before delivering us our salvation."

o0o

Kuojin stood in the throne room, his arms crossed as he stared up at King Heliert. The older man, his reddish-blond hair liberally streaked with gray, sat imperiously upon his throne, his knuckles white as they gripped the arms of the seat. His son, Prince Solan, stood at his side. Even now, in the face of overwhelming odds, Heliert stubbornly remained where he was, fully believing that his god would save him.

The defenseless nobles who had taken refuge in here with their King and Prince now cowered before the dark-clad men that surrounded them, lining up along the walls of the room and guarding the entrances, their swords at the ready. As one gifted in Black magic, Kuojin's eyes were well-adjusted to the limited light that the lamps along the walls offered.

There was movement, and the men parted from the main entrance to the throne room to admit Heliert's wife and two daughters, flanked by more Thamonese soldiers. Behind them were the rest of the people that had taken refuge with them in the royal family's chapel.

His heart skipped a beat as he glanced at the pink-clad figure, immediately recognizing the ash-blond hair of the Princess Sialeni. As their eyes met, he registered confusion in her features as the men ushered the royal women past him, up to the dais where the throne sat. The other women and their male companions were herded over to the side.

He raised his hand in a gesture, making a quick signal. Within a couple of moments, the shadows receded from the windows, casting the room in sunlight again. Many people blinked at the sudden intrusion of light, and he allowed several moments of silence.

Heliert was quick to take advantage of this silence.

"See, the Heavenly Father has banished the darkness!" he stated triumphantly, rising from his throne, resplendent in his robes of gold, blue, and purple. He raised his arms, fingers spread out as if in a gesture of benediction.

Kuojin remained standing with his arms crossed, staring at Heliert with a deadpan expression, lifting his chin in a not-so-subtle expression of challenge. His gaze slid over to Sialeni, their eyes meeting again. She raised her eyebrow, and he gave her a brief nod, seeing her eyes widen in response.

"Well?" Kuojin asked after several more moments, raising his hand in a gesture of impatience. "If you're up there, go ahead and strike me down for my insolence."

"Your moment will come!" Heliert responded firmly, his arms still upraised.

"I believe it already has." With a wave of his hand, several large black cats and wolves materialized out of the shadows in the corner of the room, prowling along the length of the chamber, causing the Araithalen to flinch back as they passed. The beasts seemed to toy with their captive audience, darting a few feet forward only to leap back, or opening their maws as if to bite. Their creator took several slow steps forward, pausing in the light cast from one of the tall windows, illuminating his dark hair and garb, and the sharp early afternoon sun making his skin look almost white.

The shadow-creatures approached the throne, causing the women to step back when one of the wolves took a step onto the dais. Suddenly, all of the creatures disappeared in wisps of inky shadow that dissipated a moment later, and the Queen slumped against her younger daughter.

Sialeni looked at her father and shook her head. "Father, it is over. Please end this with dignity, if not for us, then at least for yourself," she pleaded. The king regarded her with a disapproving glare before he turned his attention back to the conquering prince.

"Any one of you who is secure in your faith, would you rush forward and try to cut me down? Wouldn't your god would protect you. Surely your… heavenly father would reward you for such courage."

Nobody said anything for a moment before Heliert gave his son a brief nod. Solan stared at the rival prince for a moment before he charged forward, unsheathing his long dagger and swinging it. The rubies on the hilt sparkled in the sunlight, and Kuojin saw a wince pass through Sialeni's features as her hand fluttered up to her chest.

"The gods act through your brother, Sialeni. How little faith you have," Heliert remarked. Kuojin barely registered these words as he parried Solan's blade with his own, the lighter, thinner steel blade successfully deflecting Solan's blow. Four of his men came to his side at his signal, engaging Solan and quickly disarming the young man.

Kuojin silently sheathed his sword as his men restrained Solan and dragged him off to one side. "Your god couldn't strike me down, did you think your son stood a chance?" he asked Heliert. "Now, even with that.. recent unpleasantness, I still offer you the chance to make a peaceful surrender. Let it not be said that the Dark Hand does not give others a fair chance… though one might also think I have offered you enough."

The takeover of Araithale, planned since before his birth, had taken decades of meticulous planning. Even with the Araithale-Yngis conflict over the last two decades, the Tekura had ensured their victory would be well in hand. With allies within and without, the mighty kingdom had all but been lost within the span of little more than a year. In that time, Heliert had been given the chance several times to surrender.

"… No." Heliert muttered, sitting back in his chair, like an obstinate child that refused to give up his favorite toy.

"Have you gone deaf in your old age? Or lost the use of your legs? You're certainly taking your time getting out of our chair."

"Go to hell, you Thamonese filth. Darkness always perishes before light," Heliert countered stubbornly. "This throne has belonged to my family for centuries, and I'm not about to give it up to some shadow-filth." Emboldened by their King, a few of the nobles whispered and jeered, their prejudice against the Onshae Thamo superseding their good sense.

"Lukas?" Selestia shrieked, finally recognizing him. "Is this how you repay my family's generosity, by coming here and trying to take our kingdom? Does Darkness know no end to perversion!" the woman huffed with indignation. Heliert blinked and squinted his eyes, peering down at Kuojin before his lips set in a tight line. Still, Kuojin could see the struggle to comprehend, much less accept the reality before him. Finally, after several moments, the King leaned forward, jabbing a finger in Kuojin's direction.

"You filthy half-breed! I should have put you and your mother to the sword when I had the chance!" he snarled. "That's what she deserves for laying with a slanty-eyes!"

At this. Kuojin could hear angry hisses from several of his soldiers at the slur. Normally, Thamonese men were more reserved in showing their emotions, but in this case, very few could blame them for being so agitated at having their heritage and appearance so derided.

"Perversion lies in zealotry and persecution. You've made your kingdom a realm of shrieking extremists, and fools too frightened to leave their homes once the sun has set. Don't project your people's failings onto me." Kuojin spoke the words blandly. Heliert's words, especially against his mother, were akin to being slapped in the face, but he would not give the old fool the satisfaction of rousing a reaction from him. He continued his lecture, taking several steps closer to the throne.

"Your throne, like anything else, casts a shadow, old man. I could have used these shadows to form a noose around your neck, and strangled you right here and now. I am giving you the chance to move by your own power. My aunt will be here soon and when that time comes and you're still there, she will order your bloody, beaten carcass fed to the dogs."

Heliert stared at Kuojin for several moments before looking around at his cowering nobles. The royal guard and armed bannermen that had been supposed to guard the throne room had been taken down by the Thamonese soldiers.

Sialeni raised her chin and moved closer to her father, the ice in her eyes visible to Kuojin. She spoke to her father in a low voice, though it was clear from its firmness that she meant for Kuojin to hear as well.

"Father, get off the throne if you value your life, and for goodness's sake, listen to me, for once. The only choice you have now is whether you live or die. Do not take these words as a woman attempting to subvert a man's authority, but a concerned daughter who does not wish to see her father slain before her eyes."

Heliert stared at his daughter, and Kuojin was certain that in any other instance, the young woman would have been rewarded with nothing less than a slap for her insolence.

Grudgingly, the King of Araithale slid from the throne, almost oozing out of it. "You will pay for this yet," he promised as he looked down at his adversary. "The Father works in mysterious ways."

At seeing her husband slide from the throne, Selestia started sobbing, making it clear that she understood the finality of the gesture.

"The argument employed when you realize gods hold no answer. Such petulance is unbecoming even in a former king."

He turned to one of his men and spoke to him in their native tongue.

"Is my aunt still occupied?" he asked.

"I believe so, but she should be done with them soon."

"Go see her. Tell her that her throne awaits."

"As you wish." The man bowed and took his leave. Azami had chosen to stay behind in the keep of the castle, where she could interrogate the captain of the palace guard, along with other people that were important to the castle, such as the majordomo. This was not without reason – Azami was known in the Imperial Court as a skilled interrogator. Any information she would glean from her captives would be beneficial for both herself and her nephew, as well as their men, and she would not take the governorship unprepared.

Several more men came to secure Heliert, and he also signaled for them to take Selestia and Estelleta into custody. The former Queen glared at him as she was led off the dais, and he simply stared back at her impassively before turning his attention back to the older princess.

A hint of a smile appeared on his face as he approached the dais, taking one step onto it and resting his elbow on his knee as he studied her. Her hands were folded together at her stomach, and she stared back at him silently as others regarded the pair with a reserved curiosity.

"You certainly seem to have maintained your practicality… I am grateful that growing up in this place did not rob you of your good sense. Gods and monsters..." He gave a rueful shake of his head. "In Onshae Thamo, such things are found in kid's stories... and even those children know fiction when they hear it."

At that, she gave him the barest of smiles. "So it really is you." Her expression became somber, and he didn't doubt that she wondered what was to become of her. "Araithale is now yours, what do you intend to do with it?"

The unspoken question was, what do you intend to do with me? She stared at him with eyes that reminded him of a winter sky. Before he could answer, he heard sharp footsteps and turned to see his aunt, her chin raised as she strode down the aisle that led to the dais. She paused in front of it, placing her hands on her hips as she studied the throne.

It was a heavy thing of carved wood accented with gold, made with a solar and celestial motif, the back of it extending in long spikes that were mounted with diamond, amber, turquoise, and blue and yellow topaz.

"Hmm, it's gaudy for my tastes, but for the moment, it will do." She climbed the steps and sat down in it, her taut behind sinking into the cushion. "A bit too soft, but then the Oronac kings are soft." she shrugged.

"A woman must never sit on the throne!" Heliert hissed, surrounded by guards. "It is an affront to the Heavenly Father and the dynasty!" Araithalen society's attitude towards women was something that Kuojin remembered very well from his tenure here.

"Our victory here should show you that a woman can lead as well as any man," Kuojin offered, glaring over his shoulder at Heliert. "If you raise your voice to the Lady Tekura again, there is nothing I can do to save you from her wrath." For a moment, genuine anger entered his voice. However, when he turned back to his old friend, his smile returned.

"My aunt has taken her prize. And I have mine." His eyes met hers again. Reaching out, he touched a hand to her cheek, brushing it softly with his thumb. He dropped his voice, intending his next words for her ears only. "Do not fear me. I would never hurt an old friend."

She blinked once before regarding him with a brief nod. Though his words were inaudible to others, his gesture was visible, and at that, Heliert hissed at his wife. "That half-breed bastard thinks he can touch a princess of House Oronac! May the Father make his manhood wither and fall off!"

"A worthy prize you have claimed, nephew. Not only is she beautiful, but the magic in her is strong. I can sense it. She will be a valuable addition to the Dark Hand." Azami's tone was casually deliberate, designed to infuriate Heliert. But then, it was one of the things that made her a formidable conversationalist.

Kuojin slowly turned to the fallen king. "For a pauper in lordly robes, your arrogance is profound." His gaze moved to the guards holding the royal family. "If he speaks out of turn again, beat him. He is in my aunt's palace. Here, one affords their host proper respect."

Azami gave her nephew an approving nod before turning her attention to the captive nobles.

"You will be given the opportunity to pledge allegiance to the Onshae Thamo, and the Tekuras, who are now your new rulers. We are firm, and will not hesitate to discipline anyone who steps out of line, but we are also fair, which is more than could ever be said for the former Kings of House Oronac and the men they appointed to carry out their work. You have a choice; kneel before me and Kuojin, or kneel in front of my executioner." Her voice carried a slight accent to it, but practice and precision made her announcement clear to Araithalen ears.

Some of the nobles stared. Azami was the kind of woman that a typical Araithalen man would fear – beautiful, strong, and intelligent. It was a terrifying thought – a woman who could rival, and exceed them, dispelling their long-held notions that women were of the weaker sex. "I would prefer the former, but I am not afraid to administer the latter if need be." Her voice was as hard as steel, and a man stepped forward, garbed in black.

His face showed an odd mixture of solemnity and dourness set in broad features which were emphasized by the fact that his hair was pulled back in a tight, thick topknot. His build was tall and stout, and strapped to his back was a sword nearly as tall as he. His thick build was deceptive, as he was one of the fastest swordsmen Kuojin had ever met, and in fact, this man had been one of his teachers.

"Me or him, choose," Azami challenged with a wave of her hand.

With great reluctance, one of the nobles, a portly old man, approached the dais and with some effort, dropped to one knee, biting back a grimace of arthritic pain.

"I do not object to swearing fealty to you, but, if I may, the Araithalen oath includes a vow to the Heavenly Father. Would you prefer that I use that vow, or if this is now part of Onshae Thamo, as you say it is, shall I use whatever it is your people swear by?" he asked. A thoughtful murmur rippled through the room.

"That is an astute question, and I applaud your forethought. For the sake of expediency, you and your peers may use the oath you are familiar with, albeit with a proper modification."

The man closed his eyes and nodded for a moment before opening them and bowing his head.

"I swear before what is right and holy that I shall be faithful to my lord – er, lady – and do nothing that shall cause your body or holdings harm, and observe my homage to you completely against all those who would do you ill. I shall love all that you love, and shun all that you shun. I shall shield your back and keep your counsel. This, I swear before the –" He paused for a moment, and Kuojin gave him a patient, encouraging nod, "er, I swear upon my virtue and honor as Kenneth Redfield, Obermon of House Redfield."

Kuojin recalled how years ago, he had sworn fealty to King Heliert, along with his mother, when they'd been taken into service in the King's household. He had taken the same vow that Lord Redfield did, albeit without the omission of the Heavenly Father, and doubtless Heliert saw the breaking of that vow as one of the blackest of sins. Likewise, Heliert would consider Lord Redfield's oath to the Tekura just as grave a sin.

But the Thamonese had no gods. Kuojin could not feel bad about breaking a vow to a god that did not exist, and all things considered, he had shown Heliert fairness, especially as he was no longer a servant to the former Araithalen monarch.

"And I swear to you, as your lord, that you shall have a place at my hearth and my table, and that your House shall be treated with honor and should the need arise, protection. Let our families be in peace, and work together in accord as the fingers on a hand." Azami raised her hand, punctuating her vow with a slight wiggle of her fingers before straightening them.

Kuojin gave the old man another nod, waving his hand upward in the almost-universal sign of 'you may rise'. Lord Redfield did just that and despite the slowness caused by his arthritis, retreated with quiet dignity and what was certain to be a fair amount of relief.

The scribes and interpreters at one side of the dais made record of everything. Several other Araithalen men followed his lead without so much a murmur of protest, their vows having little difference to the words of the man that had set the example for them to follow.

Any time a man made his way past Heliert, he would hiss at them. Two of his guards started to beat his sides with their sheathed swords. Kuojin averted his eyes, ignoring the punishment as he would look away from a parent admonishing their misbehaved child in public.

One younger nobleman strode forward, his chin held high. However, he did not kneel and instead looked Azami right in the eye.

"You black-eyed whore. You are a piece of meat not even fit for the dogs to play with, and-" Before he could finish his sentence, his head was rolling along the ground as blood spurted from the space where it had once sat. Sialeni flinched a bit, but she kept her chin raised and her hands folded, maintaining her chilly dignity.

"Is there anyone here who is related to this man?" Azami demanded, pointing to the headless body that lay on the floor, twitching a couple of times before it fell still, blood pooling around it on the stone. Several pairs of eyes moved to a young woman who bore a strong resemblance to the recently deceased man.

"Who are you?" Azami asked in a voice that was several degrees kinder than before.

"I am… was… his daughter."

"Well, now you are the head of your family."

The woman became flustered, blinking several times. "But, my brother-"

"But nothing," Azami replied, her voice still kind, but taking on a firm edge. "In Onshae Thamo, women can be the head of their families, and since this land is now part of Onshae Thamo, the laws of the Tekura apply here."

The woman blinked again before stepping forward, delicately stepping over her father to kneel before her new ruler, going down in record as the first officially-recognized female obermon in Araithalen history.

Many of the women here were wives, daughters, or otherwise wards of a nobleman. Some of them seemed utterly shocked at the idea of a woman taking leadership, but Kuojin could see the wheels turning in the minds of a few of them as they stared at Azami or the newly-appointed family leader. Many fathers, husbands, brothers, and sons had been lost in the war but there were other men still at home, or who had managed to survive the battles, and because of what Azami said, no woman could be skipped over in succession just because of her gender. It was plain from the look of bewilderment or confusion he saw in several Araithalen men's faces that they were processing this fundamental shift in their privilege.

After Azami's swift, brutal demonstration, more of the nobles were quicker to fall in line, though some did so with obvious reluctance. Only a couple more lost their heads. Whenever an execution was called for, Azami decided to not have the bodies cleared away, leaving them where they were as an example for the remaining nobles. On that fateful day, over two dozen scions of various Araithalen noble houses bent the knee to Azami Tekura.

Only when all of the nobles had been given their choice did Azami decide that the proceedings were over for the time being.

"You are free to go for the time being. However, keep in mind that the army of the Dark Hand was able to easily conquer the soldiers of Araithale, and for more reasons than one. Any attempts at rebellion will be met with swift reprisal, as you have just seen," Azami stated.

Kuojin smirked to himself at that as he studied the room.

"It has been a long day, and I think we are more than ready for a victory feast, hmm?" Azami asked her nephew, though she spoke loudly enough for others to be able to hear as well.

"I don't doubt that every one of our men feels the same way." He glanced towards the soldiers, beckoning one forward. Turning back to Sialeni, he looked down at her. "I want you at my side at the banquet. Please make the appropriate preparations..." He glanced at her dress, did she hate pink today as much as she did back then? "And dress in the colors that please you." He gestured to the soldier that had just joined them. "This is Irindu. She will be your companion and secretary for the time being. She can also act as your translator, and help you learn Thamonese. I trust you two can form a mutually beneficial relationship." He looked at Irindu before returning his attention to the fair-haired woman.

He almost chuckled at Sialeni's surprise when she realized that the soldier was a woman. Irindu was garbed as any other soldier, the armor de-emphasizing the womanly curves she had, and her hair was pulled in the same topknot that her male peers had.

"Very well, then," Sialeni said, her eyes darting between the two of them. There was much he wanted to say to the princess, but it was not yet time. He regarded her with a polite bow. "I will see you soon, then. Feel free to ask Irindu anything."

"… Yes." She bowed her head slightly before walking off the dais, Irindu trailing behind her. The men parted from a side entrance to allow her to leave.

"Well. That went better than I thought it might," Azami commented.

"Of which do you speak about – the invasion or the princess?"

"I believe we can all agree on the answer," she asked with a small smile. "Whatever it may be."

He replied with a snort. "I have no complaints."

"Neither do I. Well, besides that the cushion here is too plush," Azami said, wiggling around on the seat. Kuojin smirked faintly as his eyes followed Sialeni before she left the room. After being separated from her so long, their reunion felt far too short, and he wanted to run after her.

Oh, my princess. I'd hoped for much… and I am not disappointed. He looked away from the door, forcing himself to return his attention to his aunt's proceedings.