CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: THE MARKED DAY
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As the small group made their way through the vast grounds, they were struck by the scale and grandeur of the sect. The buildings and structures towered above them, their massive columns and arches stretching towards the sky. The gardens and lawns were meticulously manicured, with fountains and statues dotted throughout.
As they walked, their guide pointed out various landmarks and structures, explaining their history and significance. They entered through an entrance hall, with its grand columns and ornate frescoes before passing by a library, its towering bookshelves and grand reading rooms visible through the gigantic windows. They even saw an observatory, a round tower that housed powerful telescopes and other astronomical instruments.
Finally, they arrived at an amphitheatre, a massive structure of stone and marble nestled in the heart of what Howe had to assume were dormitories. Their group was led through a tunnel and to the front seating, where they could admire the intricate carvings and reliefs that spoke to the skill and artistry of the amphitheatre's builders. The inner walls were adorned with friezes depicting mythological scenes and historical events, and the seats were cushioned with rich fabrics and soft pillows.
The amphitheatre could seat thousands of people, with rows upon rows of seats stretching up towards the top. In fact, behind them sat legions of Vast Heaven Disciples, quivering with a strange mix of seriousness and excitement. Nevertheless, they and all the other guests were more focused on the centre stage in front of them and the huge pillars of sky stone that had Guillaume choking on his own saliva. He wasn't the only one. Howe, however, was conflicted.
The Vast Heaven Palace was nothing like it was described in the stories. Howe knew the sect had fallen on bad times but still… He could practically hear his grandfather’s voice in his ear recounting tales of the Kaguri clan and their impressive history, of the scion who would go on to found the Vast Heaven Palace and become the overlord of their region. He wondered what the old man would have thought of the sight before him now.
The sect was still plenty grand, it was just … empty. As someone who had explored a lot of tombs and ruins, the buildings around him gave him a very familiar feeling. It wasn’t a feeling he should be getting in a place that was still inhabited. Trained eyes swept the place and saw past the finery set out to impress their guests; touched-up frescoes and slightly faded banners. It was pretty enough and while he could not fault the Vast Heaven Palace for the attempt the whole thing felt ... stale, preserved. Understanding dawned as he hit the nail on the head. Howe could see it now. The facade of the past drawn over the present like an ill-fitting veil. Like an old courtesan, caked up in cosmetics, and glamours, struggling to retain a trace of the beauty she once was or a once great warrior, hobbled with age and emaciated from poverty, clanking around in a set of prized armour now two sizes too big.
Howe had once dreamed of joining the Vast Heaven Palace as a Child. Growing up, he had long since learnt that the sect of his grandfather's memories and the sect as of today were no longer one and the same. However, seeing it like this was disheartening. Just one more childhood dream turned to dust on the wind.
They came with thirty men. This was as much a show of force as it was a mission. Guillaume wanted to showcase his strength so he brought only his best. Beside him, Howe looked his usual flamboyant self. In the end, they had decided to come. Whatever happened here would no doubt be important. Perhaps, the balance of power in the region might change. As an up-and-coming force, they had to be present. Clearly, they were not the only ones with such thoughts. A sweeping gaze allowed him what he hoped was a nonchalant gaze at the high table and their pavilion. It wouldn’t do to get caught staring.
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“I count four groups from Cloud Crest; Adil’s Shields, Conclave of Erith, Joyce’s Counters and The Sapphires. Two more from further south and at least five I know operate west of Tangerine Grove”, Guillaume informed him, having gone low while he went high.
“Did The Gray Hammers make it?”
“No!” Guillaume answered with a frown. “Old Cauciel said that if he couldn’t make it back to Sky City in time, he wouldn’t show.”
Their only allies in this endeavour had not come. Most believed the adage, 'better late than never' but clearly, Cauciel believed the opposite. The old bastard would probably wait down in the city and not come up the mountain until tomorrow. For a brief moment, Howe entertained the thought that Cauciel had intentionally let them take the lead to test the waters. He shook it off, someone else would perhaps but not Cauciel. The only thing that man had to his name was his reputation. There were likely others waiting in the city below for that very reason maybe even more than the people gathered here. There was no reason for him to ally with them only to wait on news he could have gotten from a dozen other groups.
“I thought you said the Phantoms would be here?” Guillaume asked nervously.
“They are", Howe assured his friend and partner. "They don’t need to be here in person to ‘be here’. The True Fire Sect and Divine Tree Clan represent them just fine.”
Wasn’t that a kicker? The Nine Phantoms sect had not even bothered to send an official representative. The message was clear. They didn’t consider their old rivals to be a threat anymore. Nothing the Vast Heaven Palace did at this point could change what everyone already knew. That kind of confidence was alarming, making Howe wonder how their hosts might respond.
Apart from the stooges, there were also a few Vast Heaven supporters in the persons of the Winter Rain Clan, The Jade Dragon Row and the Gold Cast Mountain as well as a representative of the neutral Myriad Treasures Pavilion. All in all, six medium and major powers they needed to watch out for. He passed this information on to his friend subtly reminding him of the plan they had decided on before coming here. If it even looked like war was about to break out between these powers, they were to run like the hounds of hell were after them.
It wasn't long after that that the last male Kaguri flew down to the arena up and began a short speech welcoming and thanking them for coming.
"The mystic realm you are about to enter is like nothing you have ever known. Simply repairing the access key has been the work of millennia and as near as we have been able to determine; it dates back to the Age of Cataclysms."
A slow roar filled the amphitheatre at the statement and a sudden pressure settled on Howe's forearm. He didn't have to turn to know it was Guillaume doing the squeezing. It was painful, however, his mind was racing so fast, he had no time or space to spare to get his friend to let go.
Legend had it that twenty-seven thousand years ago when the Eternal Emperor sought to claim, land, sky and sea as his domain, the Southern Province was the last and the most difficult to conquer. He fought against the Suanni Divine King for nearly a thousand years before the other capitulated and even then the core of the now desolate fields were left intact, obeying the emperor’s law in name only and thus establishing their reputation to this day.
Only after this momentous event was the world united under one banner, one ruler, and one code. It was to be the final empire, an eternal empire. On the fifteen thousandth year of his rule, the Eternal Emperor would hold a grand event in the heart of his capital. Unbeknown to him, it would be his last. The death of the emperor was the death knell of the empire and the warning of the cataclysm to come. Some say it was the world itself lashing out as a result of his murder. Others yet believe this was further backlash from whatever magical art the Emperor had hoped to commemorate the occasion with. Others still hold that it was the sorrow of the world as it watched the descendants of the emperor —numbering in their legions after fifteen millennia— tear their ancestor's legacy to shreds in their bids for the throne.
Whatever the case, an Age of Cataclysms unlike anything ever seen would engulf the world, ripping it apart like a child’s toy. Earthquakes, firestorms, maelstroms, lighting bursts, sky falls, floods, you name it, it happened. No. That was wrong. Disasters never before known or imagined would raze the world and only gain names as a result of the cataclysm. The world would not recover for another two thousand years and when it did, the Southern Provinces would find themselves split into three and torn from the mainland. Away from Imperial control, they would again learn to govern themselves again, ushering in an age of heroes and kings both petty and great. Many of the great legends of the region were born in these times. Legends such as the Kaguri.