Chapter 3.
The stench of corruption and greed permeated the air like a poison enveloping everything. It was the period of the imperial examinations, a time marked by brutality, death, and madness that seemed to run rampant as the moment to select the men who would occupy the most important positions in the empire approached: magistrates, provincial prefects, and governance inspectors.
The streets of the capital were tinged with a dark and ominous atmosphere. The struggles for power and influence unleashed with ferocity, and those who aspired to reach the highest echelons of government were willing to do anything to achieve it. Political intrigue and secret alliances were commonplace, and betrayals lurked around every corner.
Seated on a raised throne, Empress Seijin, at thirty years of age, found herself in a position of unimaginable power. Whether by the whim of circumstances or by the intervention of the designs of the Enlightened Buddha, it was she who ruled over nearly eighty million human beings, according to the latest census.
Her ascent had been a cruel twist of fate, forged in the death sentence of her predecessor, the insidious Misaki, who wielded power before her. Following her execution for treason, the previous emperor, Haruka Tenno, had departed from the world without leaving his heir prepared, leaving a void on the imperial throne.
She, as a widow, had taken on a complicated regency, while the young Emperor Yoshinori, her only son, grew up by her side. The boy was just nine years old, and the responsibility of guiding him on the path of the emperors fell on her shoulders.
It would be up to her to prepare him and protect him from the inevitable palace conspiracies until he was ready to reign on his own. And in the meantime, she would have to govern in his name.
It wasn’t easy, for she felt overwhelmed by the loneliness and distrust surrounding her.
In the chaos following the emperor’s death, she was the center of attention. Courtiers and nobles watched her with scrutinizing eyes, calculating their next moves, seeking any sign of weakness to exploit for their own benefit.
Their smiles were flattering but false, like those of hungry beasts stalking wounded prey. Each brush of a silk sleeve or ceremonial bow masked dark schemes.
She fondly remembered simpler days when her husband shared his thoughts and confidences with her in the privacy of their chambers. He spoke to her of his hopes for the Empire, of his doubts and fears he dared not reveal in front of his generals and ministers.
When the weight of leading the Empire didn’t prevent them from dreaming of the future together. When they were just husband and wife.
She missed those moments of closeness, the complicity of knowing that at least one in the entire court was on her side unconditionally. He had been her rock, her safe harbor amidst the whirlwind of the imperial court. Without him by her side, she felt like a fragile leaf tossed by the merciless winds of power.
He was gone forever, leaving her alone in that nest of vipers.
But she couldn’t afford to show weakness, not in front of the vultures already circling, looking for any crack to sink their teeth into. She knew the ministers and generals were already conspiring to control her husband’s successor, be it her young son or some easily manipulated puppet.
Damn them!
Every sidelong glance, every whisper behind her back was a reminder of everything at stake.
One false step, and the wolves would pounce on her.
She had to be strong. For herself, for her son, and to protect her husband’s legacy.
The only thing she had left of her husband was advice he had given on his deathbed. Words that resonated over and over in her mind:
“You can only trust your family and two more people,” he whispered with a weak voice, as she stroked his gray hair.
Confused and anxious, she leaned in even closer to him and whispered back,
“Who are these two people?”
The emperor, on the verge of crossing the threshold of eternity, made a final effort to speak,
“Marshal Yoshijiro and...”
The Empress, restless, insisted.
“And who else?” she urged. “My beloved, who else can I trust?”
Marshal Yoshijiro was a respected and feared man, the supreme commander of the Kantogun army. He was a formidable warrior who had conquered new territories and crushed rebellions with an iron hand. But he was also a distant and proud man, who rarely visited the capital and preferred the company of his soldiers to that of the nobles.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
She knew she could count on his loyalty, but not on his political support. In that world of men, she needed the backing of some strong man in court, or several; someone among the members of the War Council or perhaps some of the senior ministers. She knew she could trust her brother, Prince Kaito, but he was young and inexperienced, and had his own ambitions.
The dying emperor spoke again. She bent down even more and pressed her ear to her husband’s lips.
“Trust... my nephew, Yoshito,” he finally completed the agonizing emperor in a faint whisper.
She straightened up and looked at him in surprise. Yoshito was a discreet and well-mannered boy who worked as a personal assistant to the Minister of the Navy, the powerful Lord Takeda. He held no significant position nor any notable influence.
Why had the emperor mentioned him as one of his most reliable allies?
“But Yoshito is just a personal assistant to the Minister of the Navy,” she had said, unable to hide her disappointment at what seemed like a great revelation.
The emperor looked into her eyes for a moment and smiled as he spoke his last words.
“Remember what I’ve always told you...” And Emperor Haruka Tenno’s eyes clouded over forever.
In that moment of uncertainty, she felt almost betrayed by the last words of her deceased husband. Prince Yoshito, a mere minister’s assistant, seemed an implausible choice to share her deepest and most challenging secrets. Yet, Seijin knew her late husband was not a man of hasty decisions.
One had to seek in the shadows, and Yoshito hid more than met the eye.
Seijin could not ignore her husband’s will, but she could not blindly trust a stranger either. That’s why she had summoned him to her presence, to interrogate him, to probe him, to discover what lay behind his impassive face and his dark eyes.
Prince Yoshito entered the throne room with a firm and confident stride. He wore a simple and elegant robe, unadorned with jewels. He bowed before her with respect and humility.
“I have been informed that the empress wished to see me. How may I serve you, Your Majesty?” he said with a clear and calm voice.
Seijin observed him from her raised throne. The light of the torches cast unsettling shadows on the walls and ceiling of the room. The silence was so thick it could be cut with a knife.
“That is correct, Prince Yoshito,” she replied with a cold and authoritative tone. “I won’t beat around the bush; my late husband urged me to trust you, in his final words before dying. However, he provided no explanations, and these words have cast a shadow of uncertainty over my duty as empress. What reasons led to you being one of the chosen ones?”
Yoshito looked up and met her gaze. There was no trace of surprise or fear on his face. His expression was calm and assured.
As if he had been waiting for that moment for a long time. As if he knew something she was unaware of.
“The Taiko and his people have become weak,” he said with a mocking half-smile.
She felt a jab of surprise at those words.
How dared an unrecognized prince speak thus of the imperial regent? What right did he have to judge the man who had maintained peace and order in the empire for decades?
His insolence astounded her but also intrigued her.
Perhaps there was some truth in what he was saying.
The old Taiko, Sadao Shou, had done nothing but hide the truth about the assassination attempt, fearing to provoke an open war against Catay. He was an old fool who preferred diplomacy and machinations in the shadows, instead of facing problems head-on. With such leadership, things always ended in revolts, disturbances, and blood on the streets of the Golden City.
She took a deep breath and spoke firmly.
“Why do you say that the regent and his advisors have lost their reason?” she asked.
Yoshito shrugged and raised his voice.
“Because they have allowed the empire to rot from within,” he frowned. “They have ignored the threat looming over the empire as if they were blind to the storm on the horizon.”
“What nonsense are you speaking of?” she questioned.
“My lady, the barbarians of Catay have been at war with us for generations,” he began to explain. “The border region is a hotbed of conflicts, and the rebel tribes constantly threaten our borders. But instead of taking decisive action, the regent and his advisors have allowed the barbarians to continue operating, even secretly trading with them.”
Trade with the savages was illegal and, in theory, condemned by the empire. However, it was an open secret that some members of the nobility, including advisors and ministers, were enriching themselves at the expense of these clandestine deals. Those dark pacts tainted the hands of the powerful with greed and betrayal, while the entire empire lay on the edge of an abyss.
The Dream of Baku, the flower of the hidden valleys between the mountains of Catay, served as the temptation that led to these illicit trades. She knew well the legend of that flower, a flower whose petals, adorned with a golden hue that rivaled the most precious of metals, emitted an intoxicating fragrance that only caressed the noses of those who ventured into the last bastions of the land of the barbarians.
It was said that the effect of that flower on the mind was as powerful as the raging waves of the sea, capable of carrying the most wretched hearts to the pinnacle of ecstasy. It was not just a commodity; it was a promise. A promise of ephemeral happiness, of momentary relief for tormented souls in a world where shadows rose like giants, and ambition flowed in the hearts of men and beasts alike.
The corrupt officials had found a source of wealth in the desperation of those seeking the Dream of Baku. The clandestine traders, intermediaries in this forbidden trafficking, filled their coffers at the expense of the misery of those who lost themselves in the fleeting illusions that the flower offered them. The nobility seemed to have forgotten the law and duty they owed to the empire.
“This is an act of treason to the crown and the people.”
The empress smiled faintly, then turned her gaze to Prince Yoshito and with a regal gesture indicated that he should continue.
“And you, Prince Yoshito, what do you propose to remedy this scourge that ravages our empire? What is your vision to restore the glory that has been sullied by corruption and decadence?”
Prince Yoshito, with his back straight and his gaze unwavering, continued his speech.
“My proposal, Your Majesty, is simple and direct: to assassinate the Taiko and restore full imperial power through a coup d’etat. The regent is the true responsible for this plague that afflicts us, for he has usurped the authority of the throne and has subjected the nation to his tyranny. His excessive ambition has led him to corrupt the nobles, exploit the peasants, dishonor our ancestors, and challenge Buddha. His rule must end, and only we can put a stop to it.”