Chapter 5

Artifact

*Yorin*

I'm standing before the empress of half a continent.

I could certainly be accused of overstepping my station. The privilege and respect necessary to approach the scepter of the empire unsolicited is usually reserved for no less than the High Priest. That I came here myself instead of going through Sacred Genstai could certainly be described as usurping his seniority.

... Nevermind that my level is far higher than his, and despite appearances (I know I barely look any older than the newly summoned heroes), he doesn't really have that much seniority on me, either.

Even the High Priest would consider the weight of his own life very carefully if he were intending to tell the Emperor's wife that her husband is wrong.

But I've known Xuhi for most of her life. I trained her. This is hardly the first time we've had this kind of conversation. Once upon a time, we even had one about her husband.

I still don't skip the honorifics. Admittedly, more for the possibility of someone overhearing than for its own sake.

"Empress, we must take the opportunity of the review to return the heavenly artifact," I say for what feels like the third time.

"Return it to whom?" In another decade, she'll look old enough to be my mother, and as she sighs under the weight of the crown, it seems like it might come even sooner. "There are five heroes, Yorin. How are we supposed to say for certain who it should go to? If any of them? You know even better than I do that no personal belongings ever come through with a hero when they are summoned."

"No," I immediately contradict, "what we know is that it hasn't happened before now. What are the Heavens to do if a Hero's class would be worthless for lack of necessary equipment? Why send us a fifth if she won't be needed, and if she's needed, why cripple her before she even arrives?"

Xuhitana turns away from me, unwilling to look me in the face. When she was younger, she did it because she knew she'd let me down and I was about to find out. I find myself wishing the cause were as simple as skipping out on her spell practice.

"Yorin, the nobles and clergy have been talking," she finally says, her voice quiet as if it is too ashamed to come out of her throat. "They're saying that there's always four heroes. I don't blame this girl, this Remmi Lee. But there's a lot of them convinced that the only reason for a fifth hero with a strange class, and only a level one at that, is that it's a plot."

"A lot of people will say a lot of things, Xuhi," I reply, dropping even the honorific for the seriousness of the situation. "And a lot of wrong people will say a great deal more. The Essence is not so easily diverted from Heaven's will."

She sighs again, this time more in agitation. "I know that," she insists. "But it is far too easy for them to find it plausible when it is a convenient excuse to examine such an artifact. Heavenly artifacts are rare, Yorin, and ones that are pristine weapons exponentially moreso. Even Kouga is drooling at the prospect like it might make the Heroes, themselves, obsolete."

I lean back a bit at the mention of the emperor. "Is he unmoving on the matter?"

But Xuhi shakes her head. "No. He is an honorable man. If it can be shown to be meant for the Heroes, he will release it. It won't happen without backlash, though. I don't know how word of the artifact got out so quickly, but they won't be happy if he gives it up."

"The Heroes were talking about a gun at breakfast," I lock in on the opening. "What it is, how it works. Sacred Genstai removed the heavenly artifact before any of the Heroes awoke, but I tell you truly, she described it so clearly it could be nothing else. The Heavenly Artifact is the property of Hero Remmi Lee. It is her gun."

Finally, she turns back to face me, looks me in the eyes. "I know." This time, when her eyes lower, it's not to hide. It's the weight of that crown, and it pushes out another sigh. "If it were my decision alone to make, I would heed your wisdom at once, damn the nobles. The Heavens know the last decade hasn't done anything to increase my love for them."

I nod in understanding. "But the Emperor?"

Xuhi nods, too. "My husband requires more than mere words. He will need to see it with his own eyes." Guilt glazes her own. "That poor girl already has an ax over her head, and she's not even had the chance to do anything yet. The minister was so proud of himself when he said the Heroes' equipment was ready that the old urge nearly made me punch him. I'm sure they've already set her up to fail."

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I intuit the part she's not saying. After all, even in private, it is considered incredibly inappropriate to talk down another's status. "With her at level one and unequipped, they will not have to try very hard to do so."

She stiffens her lip at that and inhales deeply, reconstructing the visage of the powerful empress as she exhales.

"Walk with me, Sacred Yorin. The reviews will begin soon."

Yes, wherever the coins may fall, they are out of our hands now. I adjust myself, as well, and bow to my empress, ready to follow her lead.

*Remmi*

I kinda expected a big coliseum full of cheering citizens, with us coming out of a long tunnel under the seats like a football team. In retrospect, gathering in the imperial courtyard before a bunch of nobles like we're an investment opportunity makes a lot more sense. Much more depressing, but a lot more sense.

I blame Hollywood.

Yorin and Genstai are standing next to the seated imperials, the old man next to Mister Manchu and the elf beside his wife. The couple have bone-grindingly serious expressions on their faces, but Yorin has her head down again and Genstai has the down-the-nose expression of a judge. Perhaps a master of ceremony would be more appropriate.

With a bit of surprise, I realize the boy, presumably the prince, isn't there this time.

There's a skinny, young dandy off to the side of the imperials that radiates self-pride. He stands like he's trying to pop the button off his shirt, which would be a waste since I swear he must've polished it three times over. Fortunately for the button, he's about fifty pounds shy of actually pulling it off. Behind him are two guards with purple rope belts and a line of fancy-looking boxes.

All the rest of the crowd are clusters of men wrapped in expensive-looking silks and surrounded by busy-looking yes-men and the occasional female arm trophy.

It's easy to tell who the important people are, because they're all watching us with hawkish eyes. It makes me feel like a slab of meat up for auction. Which, as far as I know, might as well be the case. If they really are here for investment opportunities, they might intend to bid to be our sponsors. It would certainly save the crown its own funding.

Having a hero at your beck and call, especially one that owes you for all of their resources and connections, might be worth nearly any price. If all of your rivals know that hero performed exceptionally well in a public showing like this, all the better.

Somehow, the thought makes me feel bad for Leuke. Tassim will probably stab her way free of anyone too clingy, Benarou can probably self-finance, and Seina seems the type to deliberately fade into the background. But Leuke?

Yeah, if my read of the room is in any way accurate, he's going to draw all of the attention, and he's not ready for any of it. Ten'll get you twenty if he doesn't leave this courtyard with three different engagements aimed at him.

For the first time since I woke up in this place, I'm actually grateful that I don't have my gun. Showing it off in a place like this would be asking to be mugged for the rest of my life.

Instead, I can blend into a wallflower with Seina and slip out of this meat shop with no one the wiser. Even if they really haven't ever seen a blonde before, I seriously doubt I'll stick out any more than she will. After all, they're here for weapons, not wives. An unexceptional showing means being overlooked, not abducted.

It would mean going without a sponsor, but maybe I can pose as a craftsman until I can find someone skilled enough to make a gun for me. Benarou had seemed to think finding such a master would be difficult, but not impossible.

... This isn't some sort of karmic punishment for not choosing Socrates' route in the first place, is it?

When Genstai steps away from the emperor's side, all of the nobles go quiet. It's actually kind of impressive. Maybe the old man really is as important as he makes himself out to be. Or maybe the nobles just know it means the show's about to start.

He comes to a stop in roughly the middle of all three groups - us, the nobles and the imperials - and raises his voice to reach us all.

"Great Houses of Furinshao! Your families honor us with your attendance this day, as you honor them in attending to your Emperor's command.

"Many and horrible have been the tribulations that have afflicted our people since the fall of the Western Demesne! The darkness rolls ever onward, corrupting the ancient places of the world and all of the creatures about and within! Crops and wilderness alike grow strange and poisonous to our pure flesh! The darkness pools in the souls of rogues and vagabonds that discard their honor and station for insatiable greed and bottomless gluttony! Peasants that once did the proud work of farming the land now tend fields of corpses and gorge themselves on the flesh of their fellow man!

"Our brave and noble warriors have fought against this accursed tide and bought us time with their blood. But with that time, we have enacted the holy summoning ritual, and the Heavens have answered our call! For the first time in generations, Heroes stand before us!

"Today, the Imperial House fulfills its traditional duty of First Armaments, as it has done in times of old. From its own armories, it grants each Hero a relic befitting his or her skills, with which they will then display their Heaven-sent capabilities for the reassurance of us all!"

Genstai finally pauses in his speech to motion back toward the dandy, who in turn immediately starts directing the two soldiers rather than do any of the lifting, himself. They, of course, obediently begin the process of bringing the boxes forward, laying them out in the order the dandy dictates.

"Historically, of course," the old priest continues, "the Heroes will not use the First Armaments forever. They may, for certainly none can accuse the Imperial House of withholding its generosity in times of such peril. However, as Heroes grow to heights unimaginable, they may outgrow these mortal treasures, discovering new ones or forging their own to suit their needs. It is our hope only that they receive a firm foundation, and will not forget who granted it.

"Heroes! Present yourselves before the Imperial House and the Houses of Furinshao! As your names are called, step forward and receive the first weapons of your new life! From this day forth, no longer are you mere mortals! Your old stations are washed away in the Essence of the Heavens and forged anew! Today, you take your first step into Legend!"