Everywhere the man looked, he saw gold. From the ruby encrusted goblet he drank plum wine from to the accents of silk clothing dyed deep purple and red to the gilded pillars of red-roofed pavilions that people idled beneath. Everywhere he looked, he saw opulence. A denizen of the nation of silver, this foreign city’s unrestrained usage of the precious metal shrouded it in mysticism.
At first, he treated this wealth with great amounts of mistrust. Undoubtedly, he was assigned to a location that offered the best of the city by his hosts. They wished to strike him with awe, to subtly show their superiority. They collected him in a carriage without any windows and only stopped when Ortus disappeared; leaving him to survey a blackened landscape without a single person that was unaffiliated with his guard.
However, he quickly learned that, while they possessed gold and silks and precious gems that would make the sovereign of his nation to appear a pauper and its capital to be a worthless pile of stone, it was only because it was in abundance. It was near the point that they had little value to those that lived there, causing the local economy to be strained. A tradesman could commission a golden statue if he so wished. Even a peasant could possess a nice set of silk clothing for their entire family and it would not mean anything for their true wealth. For the amount of food that they were able to fill their stomachs with was no different that the pauper of his homeland.
Those that had wardrobes overfull with fine fabrics looked at his steel weapons with great jealousy. Their mines only distributed luxuries. Much of the city’s soldiery still wore armor made of lacquered leather overlaid by lamellae of an unknown material. Even the armored soldiers that stood vigilantly before the governor’s palace possessed very little metal. A decision not only inspired by material shortages, but also by virtue of the power that people of this nation employed.
He was in the heart of the Xanbo, the nation of those that are blessed by fire; the city of Hé Zhīliú, where the serpent of fire fell to Jin. Dispatched by the rulers of his nation to participate in the investigation of the broken wing that shielded the realms of humanity from those they drove into the dense spiritual thicket beyond.
Four cycles passed since the discovery was made by the people of Deshte. One cycle to gather the nations of man to discuss the findings. One cycle to choose the participating candidates. One cycle to reconvene. One cycle to travel.
He knew of his participation for three cycles now, the first among the realms to be chosen. As a result, his activities were severely limited; an asset that could not do as he pleased. No fights, no hunts, and, most importantly, no fleeing.
He would have been happier if he was chosen for one of his talents, of which he had many, that would prove useful to such an investigation. However, deliberation of his selection came down to one specific facet of his identity. In fact, he would go so far as to say that it was the piece of him that he found the least amount of pride in.
His Bloodstone ceremony was so close to perfection. A maximum glow that reached the pinnacle of that echelon of favor. A future that offered infinite possibilities awaited him. However, a light cracking sound could be heard. Small lightning patterns appeared to dash his hopes and send him into the terrible world of Heirs. A small scrap of unneeded power would elevate him from the strongest man to the weakest demigod; from indispensable to disposable. So the High Tiarnas decided to send him to the far reaches of the continent. If something went terribly wrong, it would matter little as he was viewed as no more than food for the winner.
So he lazed around various estates and palaces, drinking and consorting with whoever caught his eye that particular day. Outside of his final assignment, he had no other purposes but to indulge himself in vices while he waited. The Heir of Hedonism; a moniker that was used with disgust and excitement of equal measure. Rowdy parties would follow him wherever he traveled, leaving an odor of sweat and grape must in his wake.
It was good, for a time. Eventually, as all things invariably one day grow into, it became boring. In those circles, there are only so many new people to meet, only so many new experiences and memories to create before it becomes a chore.
Revelry becomes bothersome when it grows into an expectation, into something that extends beyond a regular mortal. This is the man that will drink your reserves dry and sleep with anybody that looks his way. He is not permitted to have an off day or a hangover or express interest in something else without attachments to deplorable acts. He could not enter a tavern without buying at least one round and staying up until the early hours of the morning. He could not watch a horse race without some stranger trying to invite him to a secluded spot behind the stables. For someone of his reputation, locale should not matter. Looks should not even matter. All that mattered was that one was willing and able to partake.
In that time that he experienced what others would describe as true paradise, he was glad that his soul would be obliterated upon death. Such an existence of eternal pleasure would barely last a cycle before it grew tiresome. He was almost relieved to receive the summons that he was meant to depart half a cycle early.
In that regard, he felt great affinity to the city of Hé Zhīliú. Like it, he was a luxurious commodity of little substance. Yet, without that aspect, there would be little left. He found that as soon as he left his environment, he felt the urges to fall back into the habits that he grew sick of. He spent nights with the captain that ferried him through the Crossways, the guards that escorted him through the country, and now, the children of the elite who saw his light colored hair and emerald eyes as a luxury that they had to indulge themselves in.
Even now, in the shade of a pavilion overlooking a pristine pond, he was caressed in the hands of giggling maidens wearing thin silk dresses. While he watched blooming lotus bob in the central pond, he received gentle touches of women with little better to do entertained him. It was an entourage of the less oft used concubines and youngest daughters of ministers. In the eyes of their husbands and grooms to be, this foreigner was a harmless way for their women to learn bedroom skills.
“Biāo Rorigan,” a male voice spoke up in the Diplomat’s Tongue, breaking Rorigan’s thoughts and interrupting the soft sounds of laughter from his entourage. “Are you having a pleasant morning?”
A clean shaven young man in brilliant gold trimmed crimson robes stood in the shade of an umbrella carried by a servant. He gingerly held a paper fan that depicted clouds over the mountains in his right hand. The instrument fluttered with graceful motions of the wrist, blowing away the midmorning heat from his countenance.
Behind him stood a dutiful scribe. In leather-bound notebook contained all of the activities and conversations of the noble for the entire season. Every grace and error was written inside that book to eventually be submitted to the royal library to be read by all. Even now, the scribe was no doubt jotting down every precious detail of this encounter from the mild morning weather to the patterns on Rorigan’s clothing.
Rorigan’s company froze in the authoritative presence of the man. Their position in the hierarchy demanded that they do not move until commanded. Rorigan closed his eyes and titled his head backwards, his leisure over for the time being.
“Jin Sheng,” Rorigan greeted listlessly, his mood dripping in the melancholy that garbed him all morning. “Breakfast was delicious, the weather is beautiful, and the company is even more so. I could describe this morning as nothing but pleasant.”
“Then you seem to only have pleasant mornings,” Jin Sheng replied with a thin smile peering through the flapping of his fan.
“It is through your magnanimity that such is the case,” Rorigan complimented in kind.
Their conversation was no more than a dance of pleasantries that both performed in tandem since Rorigan’s arrival to Hé Zhīliú. Opening exchanges serving no more than the dressing required to satisfy required etiquette. The scion of the Sheng family and fellow representative of the expedition, Jin Sheng served as Rorigan’s host, his only friend, and his enemy. However, for him to so casually encroach on Rorigan’s midmorning informed the man that there may be more to discuss than usual.
“It greatly pleases me, my friend,” Jin Sheng nodded cordially. The gentle breeze rippled his robe. A self-satisfied expression crossed his face as though receiving the compliment was his only real purpose in arriving.
“I suppose there is but a small thing that has kept my morning from being of the purest bliss,” Rorigan spoke with a voice and expression feigning pain.
“What is it that displeases you?” Jin prodded apologetically.
“Oh no,” Rorigan denied, waving his hand nonchalantly. “I could never possibly bring such a thing to your attention. To complain about something so minor would only cast me in an ungrateful light. Please, heed it not.”
Rorigan smiled slyly at the sound of the scribe’s pen strokes. What he learned quickly of the nation of Xan was that appearances mattered greatly. Oftentimes, it could mean more than the underlying substance. Jin Sheng, and by greater extension, the rulers of Xanbo saw Strettia as its nearest rival alongside Norzyet. To host Rorigan in the nicest palace in the city with free reign over all that existed within it was no more than a show of force towards his nation. So he employed the only card he was afforded to play.
“Please, Biāo Rorigan, speak freely of your grievances,” Jin invited with a warm grin and a chilly gaze.
The grin grew muted towards Jin’s nickname towards Rorigan. In Jin’s language, he was referred to as a ‘squall’. Powerful, but also short-lived. A jab at the fate that all knew befell the weakest of the Strettian Heirs. When these memoirs are released for the nobles and well-read citizens to peruse, it will display Rorigan as a fool who caroused daily and was blithely insulted to his face.
“About an hour past, a large duck with feathers of orange landed ungracefully in the pond. It overturned several lotuses, scattered the fish, and quacked loudly for a mate for several minutes. Needless to say, much like the disturbance to the tranquility of the pond, so too was my spirit disturbed. Is that not so, ladies?”
“Yes, yes,” agreed several of the women. “It was such a brash sight.”
Invited to the conversation, Rorigan’s entourage now nodded and giggled once more. Just as Rorigan and Jin had a role to play, so too did the women that surrounded Rorigan. They were meant to agree with him, to add native legitimacy to his foreign opinions.
“The foreigner embellishes,” one of the women said giggling in her native tongue to Jin who quickly glanced towards the scribe.
To watch him was their other purpose. So great was their arrogance that they would report his activities out in the open, believing that Rorigan would be none the wiser. While it would have provided him with great satisfaction to lavishly reveal the genius he possessed, it was of no benefit to Rorigan to reveal his talent in understanding the language. As long as they viewed him as a vapid sex addict, he would gather all the information that he needed.
“As much as it pains me to admit it, I do not possess domain over nature,” Jin sighed remorsefully. "If it would bring you peace, I could wait near the pond with a bow and pluck it from the sky. However, would you not think the world became less natural and beautiful from the creature’s loss?”
“The world would very much be poorer as a result,” Rorigan agreed. “But your pond would be richer for it.”
Jin chuckled and Rorigan laughed with him. With their customary exchange finished, Jin donned a serious expression and Rorigan decided to match.
“We have reached the end of the days of you being my guest, Biāo Rorigan,” Jin stated. “The final representatives arrived last night and we will depart on our expedition when Ortus next rises. A banquet is currently underway and I am here to collect you.”
“Regrettable,” Rorigan commented passively. “I’ve felt very much comfortable these past couple seasons. I shall do my best to spend one last night with all of my companions before I depart. I hope the ladies here notify the absent gentlemen to visit my abode tonight.”
“I think you are mistaken of any men spending company with you in that fashion,” Jin corrected.
“Of course,” Rorigan replied with a nod.
Unlike his homeland, the men of Jin’s nation were not socially permitted to enjoy each other’s intimate company. Such stigmas did not prevent one from going on a nightly stroll to the home of a good friend and many such men of the noble disposition were open secrets. To be caught in the act, however, would do no less than cast them as pariah. To be caught as the submissive partner in the arrangement often led to disownment, sometimes even a deadly beating.
“Spare your farewells for later,” Jin ordered. “We must meet with the other representatives at the governor’s residence.”
“Apologies, ladies, but it seems that I have business I must attend to,” Rorigan spoke dramatically to the group.
They reached out and grabbed his hands and looked at him with pouting lips and wet eyes. Rorigan smiled in kind. It was all theater. To unsuitably show no emotions at his departure would insult him, to react overly great would insult Jin.
After not clasping to him for not overly long, he was finally released. After adjusting his clothing, Rorigan joined Jin under the shade of a matching umbrella.
Leather soled slippers padded over the stone path, a mosaic of fish with scales made of coins swirling around plum blossoms. Various trees that Rorigan could not identify separated the path from the white stone wall.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
They moved past the study. Inside, Rorigan could spy Jin’s younger brothers and cousins practicing calligraphy. Their ink stained fingers trembled from the repetitive practice while an elderly scholar judged their efforts harshly with a reed switch. While none were spared from the instructor’s ire, some boys had bloodied knuckles while others were simply pink from a tyrannical slap meant to dissuade them from contentedness.
“Why is it only the most bitter that wish to instruct the very young?” Rorigan asked casually as a boy was left sniffling from a strike.
“It is important to understand consequences from an early age,” Jin explained. “Unlike Strettia, our penmanship is also an art form. An official or a prince that cannot write beautifully will not last long just as a soldier who does not fight properly will not last on the battlefield.”
“Then do you not feel resentment?” Rorigan inquired further.
“I am grateful to the strict lessons as it has allowed me to distinguish myself further. However, let us say that instructors are fortunate that their fraternity handles their funeral rights,” Jin replied. His mouth was formed in a tight frown while he gently touched his wrist. “Otherwise, it may be that the only corpses in the city would be those of animals and learned men.”
Rorigan chuckled his understanding. By comparison, his own upbringing was outright decadent. The Heir with no expectations need not be expected to accomplish anything. To expend resources outside of combat on him would only be viewed as wasteful. Perhaps, in some way, expectations, however small, may have suited him. He wondered briefly whether he would have shown any of the ambition he possessed before his fate was decided.
“We are friends, are we not?” Jin asked Rorigan, interrupting the latter’s thoughts.
“I would see you favorably more than not,” Rorigan answered in a non-committal tone.
“I am glad that you see me that way,” Jin replied.
A long silence lingered between the two as they made their way to a narrow bridge over the pond. Rorigan ran his fingers along the lacquered finish of the railing, more than content to allow Jin to lead the conversation on his own. Now that the final representatives arrived, it was time for his true advantage to shine. It was a conversation that he prepared for since he departed from his homeland.
“As no disrespect to your own abilities and accomplishments,” Jin prefaced, preparing to speak of his counterpart in an assuredly unflattering manner. “From the decision of your nation to send you amongst all their Heirs, it is clear that they have little interest in leading this expedition. Am I correct in this assertion?”
“You are,” Rorigan replied with a shrug. “Our Sovereign has great respect for your nation and the High Tiarnas hope that the gesture of sending me in lieu of their more powerful children will inspire you to reciprocate if the need arise.”
“Then you must understand your role as kingmaker in this meeting,” Jin continued with a flutter of his fan. “Hetecis, Norzyet, and Deshte all wish to assert themselves as the leader of the expedition. You would agree that their claims are unreasonable, would you not? It is Xanbo’s land that was invaded and our fort that was abandoned.”
“What of Bhotaka?” Rorigan inquired. “Do they not still hold loyalty to your nation?”
Jin held his tongue as they passed a small gazebo in the middle of the bridge. A handsome couple in matching canary yellow outfits drank in each other’s eyes and spoke in sickeningly sweet poeticisms. It was fortunate that they were too obsessed which each other to see their governor’s son walking by them. Rorigan would have been disappointed to see the moment, as gut turning as it was, be destroyed.
“Their graciousness towards our ancestor’s favors has ebbed over the cycles,” Jin responded plainly. “Just as all other nations do, they have their eyes set on reclamation of lands they believe are rightfully theirs. Only cooperation with Hetecis will bring them such rewards.”
Rorigan suppressed his glee at Jin’s attempt to appeal to him. The lavish trappings he enjoyed was intended to dominate him and serve as pretense to request an alliance. He did not begrudge the shallowness of the effort. It was truth that he enjoyed his time here immensely. Much of that could be attributed to the extensive luxuries. If Jin asked a little more shamelessly, he’d support the fireblood on the spot.
“I was advised to support the most capable and elevate them to leader of the expedition,” Rorigan stated. “How am I expected to make an objective decision if you are the only representative that I have met to date?”
“Who is more qualified than the one who knows this land best?” Jin asked. His face and tone remained neutral despite the desperation held within the contents of his words.
“I heard Endless Skies, who discovered the Novesse invaders, would be attending. That is surely a large boon to legitimacy, is it not?” Rorigan playfully questioned. “What of our current ally, Hetecis? No doubt Lord Yudi would rather our nations united. Or perhaps I should show favor to a potential ally in Princess Jasna of Norzyet? You have heard that we coordinated together quite amicably recently?”
“It is no secret that Strettia’s relationship with Hetecis is only predicated on the fact that we oppose your claims to Antellis and the mouth of the Verani River. We also know that your rivalry with Norzyet extends endless generations,” Jin replied sternly. “Whatever a positive relationship with Norzyet would bring Strettia, I assure you that a relationship with Xanbo would be far more fruitful. Not to mention, far more trustworthy.”
“Will you be granting us the center of the world?” Rorigan asked with a raised eyebrow.
“You know as well as I that granting Strettia that land will be the same as handing them the noose to hang us all,” Jin answered curtly. “You will have to settle for more reasonable recompense.”
Rorigan laughed, succeeding in only causing a small twitch in Jin’s visage. Not letting his disappointment in failing to get a rise out of Jin showing on his expression, Rorigan placed a hand on Jin’s shoulder.
“Do not overly fret, Yújìn, it is only required that I meet with all the representatives before making my decision,” Rorigan elaborated. “I find it also impossible that a person I have yet to meet could overcome the goodwill that we have built together over the season. Act in the manner I expect you will and I will view you favorably.”
“It brings much peace to my heart that you say such things,” Jin replied before a puzzled expression crossed his face. “Did you just call me Yújìn?”
“If you call me a squall, is it not fair that I call you ember?” Rorigan asked in Jin’s native language with a laugh. “Was I mistaken in believing that you called me so as a term of endearment?”
Jin’s complexion paled at Rorigan’s response, causing the Strettian to grin widely. He expended a powerful tool to be petty, something that his adoptive mother would have scolded him for if she were here. It did not mean much to Rorigan, however. In his mind, any tool that he could use to further fluster Jin in this moment would only serve to bolster his position for the remainder of these negotiations. He would certainly deny that he knew that this conversation would be the ultimate climax to the immortalized notes that would be stored forever.
“How long have you been able to speak language of Xan?” Jin inquired.
“It took me about seventy days to understand basic sentences,” Rorigan answered with a shrug. “Seventy more to understand it all. You left me with an entire library of books in your language and more leisure time than a person should ever receive. It should be more surprising if I learned nothing in all this time.”
“Of course they wouldn’t send you thoughtlessly,” Jin muttered to himself in an exasperated tone.
Rorigan’s smile faded slightly, reminded, once again, that this skill was of no consideration to his noble betters. The fact that they received any acknowledgement from Jin irked him more than he would admit. He should be the one being praised for his skills, not some dismissive decision from a group that offered no more than empty words after reaching their verdict.
The wooden bridge terminated on the northern side of the pond. Stones demarked with bouquets of orchids spread out before them. The governor’s estate rested just beyond. Red painted wooden pillars propped up the sleek figure of Rì Chū, noble son of Ortus and the serpent spirit that is rumored to have granted the first Jin great powers. Ruby eyes stared down upon those who entered, judging if they had the right to encroach upon his grounds.
Jin stopped beneath the beast and stared up at it with great consideration. He sighed contemplatively and glanced towards the awaiting Rorigan.
“I have disrespected you,” Jin admitted, surprising Rorigan. “To properly apologize, allow me to speak without pretense.”
“Even when others will know the contents soon?” Rorigan asked with surprise.
Jin looked over his shoulder towards the scribe. In this place, tradition turned a man who could boil blood and incinerate bones into the slave of someone with ink fingers. It forced the nobility of the nation to change how they spoke. Nothing could be seen as disadvantageous or hostile as everything could be brought up as evidence. The role of the scribe was inscrutable and, by design, protected from tyranny.
“Understand that my position is laborious then,” Jin conceded.
“Your desire has not gone unrecognized,” Rorigan stated.
“I wish to place aside national considerations and the way in which we have treated each other in the past,” Jin requested, closing his fan sharply; the wooden ends curtly clacking together. “I need you to support me. Even if you are not the leading Heir within your nation, it does not mean that you are weak. Support me in this endeavor, help me raise my name amongst my peers, and I will perform a favor of equal magnitude.”
“A favor of my choosing?” Rorigan asked with keen interest.
He had to suppress his satisfaction at Jin’s nod of confirmation. Such an offer was more than he hoped for. He knew that it was not insignificant that the Scion of Sheng shared his name with the nation’s founder. There was much that he could extract from such an arrangement.
“Didn’t a prince of yours allow himself to be burned to cinders after saving a crone because she promised him that his beautiful spirit would rise from it and gain the love that he was scorned in life?” Rorigan asked with a bemused grin.
“He did turn into a beautiful spirit that captured the heart of the woman he pursued,” Jin answered plainly. “It was just that his time on this plane was ephemeral and he was unable to enjoy any time in love. The princess, unable to see beauty in mortals ever again decided to stare at Ortus’ beauty and blinded herself.”
“You will not be my crone, will you?” Rorigan wondered aloud.
“As long as you make requests humbly, you will avoid such a fate,” Jin replied with a wry smile. “I think you are clever enough to succeed where the prince failed.”
“That is fortuitous, as I am one of the Mother’s humblest sons,” Rorigan replied merrily. “Let us get inside before the others believe that we are too blatantly scheming.”
Jin nodded and took the lead. All of the doors and windows of the governor’s estate were opened to allow the fresh, pleasant air of the day to sweep away any stagnant air. As Rorigan understood it, the people of Xan believe that stale air inhibits ideas. The nation’s great generals hold their strategy meetings in open fields and hold down their maps and inventory manifests beneath heavy rocks.
The libraries were especially blustering. Tall, narrow windows funneled air into the spacious rooms, making study for Rorigan unnecessarily precarious. Much of his reading would be taken to his room if he wished to accomplish anything.
As the weather was kind and gentle on this day, the banquet was held in the courtyard. A long table made of polished wine-colored wood stretched out beneath a long pavilion. Chaos born from the activity of attendants stormed around the feast leaving a corona of dignity for those that were seated.
A representative from each nation sat at the table, garbed in the finest clothes their nation could procure. Clear iconography of their culture dripped from every color and accessory, making it near impossible to confuse the origin nation for any of the attendees.
Rorigan silently complimented Jin’s foresight. At each end of the table sat a statue of Rì Chū. The serpents, great guardians of their host, acted as gatekeepers, preventing any of the guests to occupy the prominent ends of the table while Jin was gone. Instead, they had to capture the eight seats in the middle. Their own small retinues of servants and guards marshaled in the wide spaces between.
“Look, the enemy at my rear walks in draped in the fineries of the in enemy at my front,” a Hetecian man with a shaved head and clothing of yellow and black and red announced to his entourage.
“Yet you empty your pockets to one to kill the other,” Rorigan replied with a shrug. “It is nice to make your acquaintance, Lord Yudi.”
“Spare me your insincere greetings, war-maker. It appears to me that my enemies play at fighting while my people bleed disproportionately,” Lord Yudi accused.
“If you gift us some meager acreage along your river, you will only have but one enemy to worry about,” Rorigan stated casually. “Isn’t letting go and allowing unnecessary things to flow down the Verani part of your people’s beliefs?”
“I would rather bury it all than let you possess a single step of that land!” Yudi shouted, slamming his hands on the table.
Rorigan knew that Hetecis and Strettia would not carry their uneasy alliance into this expedition. Even if the representative had not acted with hostility from the beginning, there was nothing entertaining in their demeanor. He appeared to be the righteous type that did not know when to keep words to themselves. Devoid of a playful foil, it would not take long before relations would have broken down on their own. What was important, however, was whether or not the attitude from the Hetecian represented the strong opinions of a solitary man or the change in approach between nations.
“Speaking of misappropriated territories,” a woman of lightless complexion and hair interjected the tiff. “There is something of ours that we would like back as well. Perhaps we should assist each other in reclamation. It is a pleasure to meet an esteemed Heir of Strettia. I am Jasna, Princess of Norzyet.”
Rorigan sat in the seat opposite and offered a polite smile towards Princess Jasna. Her opening hand did not go unnoticed or unappreciated after Yudi’s inflexible display. However, he also knew that the Princess possessed no sincerity in her promise. Even if she were to be revealed as the most powerful and influential of the rising generation, her nation would revolt if she acquiesced to Strettia’s long-standing demand.
“There is something bizarre about what I am witnessing,” Jin stated, glancing over the table. He did not yet take his seat, instead rapping his fingertips sharply against the wooden frame. “I distinctly remember setting aside seven chairs, one for each of the great leaders of this expedition. However, to my surprise, I see that there are eight chairs.”
“Just as Xanbo failed to prevent the Novesse from invading our realms, you have allowed an invader here,” a tanned man in a turquoise jacket embroidered with white remarked. Golden-brown eagle feathers were tied into his hair. “Do you need me to find them for you again, Jin?”
“Your enthusiasm is appreciated, Endless Skies,” Jin answered cordially. “Perhaps your equine brother can sniff them out for us.”
Eyes drifted in the same direction. The roster of names had been released over a cycle ago without alterations. A woman dressed in white was the one that could not be attributed to any of the blessed individuals tasked with this journey. For one that did not have noble sponsorship, she possessed regal qualities. The gazes did not bother her. In fact, she seemed to embrace the glances and returned an even look in response. It was the same dismissive look that one would give to a rambunctious child.
“Cease your theatrics,” a man in dismally dark garments spoke up, an annoyed expression was plastered on his face. “I offered a seat for my companion. She did not feel well, so it was only right that I offer her somewhere to sit.”
“Of course, it is Prince Seojun of Bhotaka that presumes that he is entitled to more than he is worth,” Princess Jasna snidely commented.
“It is you that I could more easily say that of,” the Bhotakan prince spat bitterly in response. “Just because your people were grown in frozen wombs does not mean that the rest of us are forbidden from feeling the love you lack.”
“Please, everyone, did we not travel far to protect all our people from a potential Novesse threat?” A woman who looked much akin to a Strettian southerner spoke. A necklace of pearls framed her neck within a dress that matched the colors that spread through the sky whenever Ortus fell towards the land. “We should introduce ourselves as the comrades that we are meant to be. Allow me to start. I am Ines Frederica of Byrtelos, it is a pleasure to meet all of you.”
“An excellent idea, Ines. And one that I should have done from the beginning,” Jin complimented, finding the effort to control these powerful and indignant personalities to be more taxing than he prepared for. “I am Jin Sheng, representative of Xanbo and your host for the night.”
While the young inheritors of divine favor exchanged introductions and the tone relaxed, it did not erase the opening hostilities. Relationships, both positive and negative had already begun to form. Allies and enemies exchanged charged glances at each other. Each rivalry, each political conflict would mire the expedition further into unnecessary complications and take that much longer to accomplish. Foes must not receive credit while friends much share it all.
Rorigan withdrew his excitement deep within him. Let them drag this expedition out for an extra cycle or two or five. He would encourage every petty rivalry and promote every possible tangent. Obfuscate the true goal, distract from the finale. As long as they were on this journey, he could maintain hope. He would not forget his adoptive mother’s words.
As long as he was on an official mission during the Choosing, he may yet still live.