King Tsunkei had left the palace about a month prior with his oldest two sons, Jukazu and Teiki; the queen and his other children stayed behind, with Lord Ozuru taking care of most things while the king was away. News came—one full week ago, now—that King Tsunkei had been killed at some point during their travel, along with most of the guards, leaving only one or two soldiers left to bring Jukazu and Teiki back to the palace. Their original reason for departure, judging by the murmurs and her voices, seemed to have been a lie.

The family took the time to bury the king and mourn, then began to prepare for Prince Jukazu’s coronation. The king of Gin had no crown in the physical sense—an appeal and promise was made to their ancestors and Tsuyoi Aimiki, and the silver-white hair they received served as their mark of leadership. The process was the same in the sister-enemy kingdom of Kuro.

The news of the coronation officially spread before exact confirmation that King Tsunkei had actually died, but people still flocked to the palace regardless. When the day came, Seiko’s voices were loud and practically screaming—they spoke so quickly, so randomly, that she could only make out portions of what they were trying to say. She dealt with a migraine for that whole day as a result; she would have stayed in the servants’ quarters if they hadn’t all been forced to attend. The noise around her didn’t help the situation any.

People crowded into the throne room, with noblemen being closest to the royalty; commoners were closer than the servants living in the palace, although if any servant wanted they could easily sneak through the ranks. Seiko was fine staying where she was near the back of the group.

Prince Jukazu came up to the throne, wearing a white kimono with elaborate gold patterns. He bowed, not to the crowd but to the watching gods, and spoke reverently. “Kyōryokuna Bekin, Tsuyoi Aimiki. Watch over this kingdom, as I swear to do now, and it shall strive to be even greater—it will become greater—than my late father’s reign. The world will soon usher in another era, with me as their king.” He then turned to the crowd, sparing no moment to pause. Seiko could faintly recognize that his smile held some manic undertones. “We shall fight! The modern era is upon us!”

The crowd cheered, and they all bowed out of respect. Her voices grew clear enough to say a single line—Fight you shall.—before becoming nonsense again. The crowd began to whisper, however, when they fully stood and had a chance to look at their new king.

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Nothing about him was changed, and the assurance Jukazu had before visibly faltered.

Lord Ozuru quietly urged him to try again, and the prince complied—still no changes. One of the noblemen in the front row was brave enough to protest.

“Is King Tsunkei even dead?” He asked.

“You’re free to dig up his body in the graveyard,” Lord Ozuru replied coldly. “Tsunkei is dead and has been for over a week now.”

Addressing the assembled royals, he asked Prince Teiki to come up and replace his older brother. When the younger prince performed a simpler version of his brother’s speech, there was still no change.

They should have sent you all home, the voices murmured.

Instead, they cycled through every eligible heir in the room. They tried all the men first, including Lord Ozuru himself—then they asked for the princesses to try, and eventually they even invited the noblemen who knew they shared blood with the royal family. None of them received silver hair.

For each one, her voices came together to make a comment. Too prideful. Too childish. A coward. A fool. Bloodthirsty. Lustful. Seiko winced as the new voice spoke briefly, drowning out all others.

There is not a known person of this line that is worthy…not even I, in the end.

Lord Ozuru began trying all of the candidates again, refusing to explain any possible causes to the curious crowd. Her voices grew loud again—louder than the murmurs around her, and twice as plentiful—and caused another wince. A few people around her noticed this time, although she couldn’t actually hear what they were trying to say to her.

One of the other servants carefully guided Seiko away as the frantic search in front of them continued. Her balance was uneven and all she could focus on was the pain. She could only manage a small, quiet ‘thank you’ when she made it back to the servants’ quarters. The woman who helped her said something that sounded like a promise that Seiko still didn’t hear.

The voices didn’t grow any quieter until the sun had set, hours later. The servant girls came back with the news that the royal family would investigate the matter, and until then there would be no king and Lord Ozuru would take up that position.

In the following days, many things came to light—a few scandals were made clear, as well as past deeds. Rumors came about that one of the king’s own sons had killed him, and the rest of the family was corrupt or tainted in some way. Some of the servants resigned or ran away upon hearing all of it, but Seiko stayed—the voices begged her to. When she wrote to Mikka in order to explain that, her mother’s response seemed calm. She didn’t seem to mind.