Finley opened her eyes and nodded. “What was your dream?”

Abrial made a sour face. “It was weird. It was one of those foggy dreams, you know? Where stuff happens and it’s super vague and you can’t really remember it after. All I remember is…feeling angry. And seeing him. The Emperor. At least, I think it was him, or what I think he’d look like? I don’t know. He had these long, black robes, and his face was pale, like there was no blood in it. It was kinda gross. And there was fog all around him, and it was glowing red, kind of like blood? And he was smiling…Fucking creepy! And nasty. And kind of funny. But…it made me think about how I don’t really know a lot about the Emperor at all. You know? I know he’s evil and everything, and he killed millions of people, and he hates magicians even though he uses magic…but d’you know anything else you can tell me? Like…who is he? How’d he get the way he is? Why is he like this, why did he kill all those people? Is he just crazy?”

Finley swallowed her mouthful of buckwheat noodles, then tilted her head with a curious look.

“I do not know a great deal about the origins of the Emperor’s motives and past, though I do know a little. No historian knows where the Emperor was born or grew to be an adult, or what kind of person he was before he began his conquering rampage. His identity is known to be highly mysterious. It is said that he wears a mask to obscure the fact that he does not age and to hide his identity.”

Abrial slurped down the last of her buckwheat and set that bowl down next to the first to lean over the table towards Finley, eyes bright.

“Heh, mysterious…This sounds like some old legend or something. Is he really as evil as the scrolls in the scroll tent say? How evil is he? D’you know?”

Finley stirred her noodles, frowning slightly.

“I would not know. But I have heard many things about the ways in which he murdered, and the things he did to reverse the views of magical abilities within the Empire of Gongkua and the surrounding kingdoms of Roatia and Geum. It is well-known amongst magicians that magical historians attribute him as the creator of the Scarlet Plague.”

“What?” Abrial slapped her hand on the table, eyes wide. “That—that plague from around the time we were born? The one that gave me a scar?”

Finley tilted her head again, frowning slightly.

“Yes, and no. The Scarlet Plague has appeared several times over the centuries, beginning several hundred years ago, at a time even before the Emperor rose to power. It has been the thorn of illness in the side of Gongkua for centuries. But it is said that, once the Emperor rose to power, he took control of the plague using shadow magic. Shortly after he rose to power and succeeded in taking the throne, the Scarlet Plague reappeared in full force and ravaged Gongkua for a hundred years. Magical historians suspect he was the cause.”

Abrial nodded, tapping her fingers on the table excitedly.

“The Hundred Years’ Plague. I learned about that from my tutor on Gongkuan history a few years ago! Remember him? He was the most boring guy in the world, heh…”

“He was acceptable, though he only taught you the most basic structure of Gongkuan history,” Finley said mildly. “But you are correct in mentioning The Hundred Years’ Plague. The second appearance of the Scarlet Plague was named the Hundred Years’ Plague, known as the worst epidemic to ravage Gongkua in all of its history. Like the plague that appeared when we were born, it filled one’s lungs with fluid and left red and white scars on the neck, slowly deteriorating the body’s health. In the end, it killed millions, leaving the population of Gongkua devastated for the next two hundred years. The reason modern magicians point to the Emperor as the murderer behind this epidemic, was because it seemed to target only those with magical ability.”

“What, so everyone who couldn’t do magic was left alive, and all the magicians died? How are there people who can do magic today, then?”

“Some survived, though a low number. It is said that the Scarlet Plague came to be seen as a magicians’ curse of the time, retribution against magicians for their evil spiritual practices in performing magic. The Hundred Years’ Plague was the beginning of the changing of the tide in the attitude towards magic. People began to see magical ability as a curse and disease, rather than a blessing and advantage. By the time the plague had disappeared, the magical Gongkuan population and the magical populations in nearby kingdoms had dwindled to a small group. Even the surviving magicians were persecuted, as their abilities came to be seen as a hazard to society.”

Abrial curled her lip absently, resting her chin on her palm. Her eyebrows furrowed in thought.

“Okay…so, the Emperor used shadow magic to reuse the Scarlet Plague to kill millions of magicians. That’s why magicians hate him. But…I just don’t get it. Why? He’s a magician too, isn’t he?”

Finley raised her eyebrows, swallowing another bite of clear, chewy noodles. She wiped the corner of her mouth carefully. Her manners were always proper; the longer she’d stayed at Abrial’s house, the more exponentially proper she’d become.

“I do not know the answer to that,” she said grimly. “Perhaps he was simply power-hungry, and wanted to keep magical ability to himself. Maybe he holds some sort of deep grudge that cannot be explained through his actions. The first seems more likely. Many magicians believe he simply wishes to limit magical power to himself, to raise himself above everyone else in power.”

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Abrial nodded slowly, frowning at the grains of the table. She imagined that hazy figure she had seen in her dream there among the swirls of polished wood, encased by a dense, bloody fog. It had looked more like a ghoul than a human, hadn’t it?

“It still bothers me, though. Why would he do all of that? Kill millions, take over the throne, have magicians chased and tortured for four hundred years…I was thinking, maybe he’s just insane. But he can’t be that crazy, can he? Ruling the empire of Gongkua for four hundred years…He has to be partly sane, at least. I think. I don’t really know how ruling works.”

Finley nodded. “Yes. The Emperor’s actions are highly mysterious. Many wonder why he continues to utilize taboo shadow magic methods to remain young, rather than living out a normal term of life. Others wonder why he slaughtered most of the Gongkuan population, then decided to rule it back to prosperity, albeit with a reversed perspective on magic. He is strange, and erratic.”

Abrial nodded, lost in thought. She perked up, tapping the table. Then she lifted a long, thin finger to pull down the collar of her black robes slightly, revealing a red scar in the shape of a crescent moon—her scar from the plague.

“About the Scarlet Plague—d’you think the Scarlet Plague that came in the years when we were born had anything to do with the Emperor? A lot of people died, right? Maybe that was him, too?”

Finley sighed and shook her head, setting her empty bowl down. “I do not know. But every book I have ever read about the recent Scarlet Plague speaks of it as the cruelest plague, even worse than the Hundred Years’ Plague.”

“Huh?! It didn’t kill millions, did it? There’s no way! Wouldn’t Gongkua still be devastated? Would there even be any people left?”

“No, it did not kill millions. The estimated numbers of the dead are in the tens of thousands. However…the targeted population was different. The ones who were killed most often by that version of the plague were newborn babies. Virtually all of the newborns born between the Year of the Magnolia and the Year of the Lily died before their first year because of the disease. The worst of it came in the Year of the Lotus, between the Year of the Magnolia and the Year of the Lily. I have not heard of anyone who survived the disease in that year, besides you. My parents did not bring me with them from Roatia to Gongkua until a few years after the disease had passed, so I was fortunate to have missed it. But you…it is greatly fortunate that you…survived.”

Abrial’s finger traced the moon-shaped scar on her collarbone absently, her eyes faraway. Come to think of it, in her travels and in her weeks at the Wei camp, she’d never met someone else born in the Year of the Lotus. A rare few people shared her age of eighteen years, but they were always half a year older or younger than her, which meant they had been born in either the Year of the Magnolia or the Year of the Lily.

“Weird…” she mumbled. “Weird that the Year of the Lotus was the worst.”

“It is a strange coincidence. The Year of the Lotus occurs only once every century, when the sun is said to move closest to the earth for a year, bringing strength, warmth, and good luck. Now, it has been associated with evil and misfortune.”

Abrial nodded in recognition. She had heard this before from Finley. That was why the Year of the Lotus was considered so lucky: it represented strength, rebirth, and resilience, with the power of the heavens blessing it. But ever since the plague…

The Year of the Lotus was no longer considered a lucky year.

It was a year of death.

“Geez, this stuff’s all wacky,” Abrial muttered, slurping down her now-cooled barley tea. “History is weird.”

Soon after, Finley sipped the last of her sweet soup, and Abrial gathered up the wooden bowls, cups, and chopsticks, insisting on returning them to the dining tent. It was clear she was just doing it because she was itching to go outside and breathe in fresh hillside air after rolling around on her bedroll all day with a hangover. With a sigh, Finley relented, since Abrial seemed enough back to her normal self.

As Abrial stood from the table, Finley cleared her throat somewhat awkwardly.

“Abrial…Can I ask you something before you go?”

Abrial paused, one foot in the air. “Sure!”

Finley’s cheeks had lit up pink. She turned face away slightly and spoke very quietly:

“The students you have been eating with…Wu Dafu, Ya Syaoran, and the others. There is a rumor circling the Wei camp, about the students being your suitors and trying to win you over.” She swallowed, pursing her lips, while her eyes remained staring at the grains of the polished wooden table. “Is that true? Do you favor any of them?”

“What?!” Abrial exploded. The pile of wooden dishes in her arms teetered, and a chopstick fell to the bamboo mat and rolled beneath the table. Abrial stared at Finley, her expression incredulous. Her cheeks were burning. “People have been saying what? That’s nuts! That’s fucking — ouch!”

A sharp pain shot through her head. She suddenly remembered the events of yesterday morning. Wu Dafu’s awkward expression materialized in her mind, and her words caught in her mouth mid-sentence.

“Well, I guess they weren’t completely wrong,” she muttered to herself, face red. “I don’t know if that rumor’s all true, but still, I can’t believe people would go around saying shit like that! We’re all just friends, I just like to talk about blade fighting with them and show them tricks! There’s nothing like that going on, no way!”

“Do you favor any of them?” Finley repeated, watching Abrial’s face closely.

Abrial crouched down to grope around for the chopstick, then stood and stuck it inside a cup.

“Are you serious?” she grumbled, sounding almost angry. “I don’t even want to ever get married, and men are gross. I can’t believe everyone was saying stuff like that, and I never heard any of it. People are so weird! What are you smiling for? Did I do something?”

A small smile had materialized on Finley’s heart-shaped face. Her hazel eyes were sparkling slightly. She shook her head.

“No, there is nothing. I am just feeling happy.”

Abrial blinked. A grin broke out over her face.

“That’s great! I’m glad you’re happy!”