Abi d'Ilga struggled to drag her favorite rocking chair to her front porch. She had turned twelve a few weeks earlier, and should have been able to rearrange furniture, but her body was weak. She was also a bit short and chubby. The little girl sighed. While some women were meant to be great warriors, she was meant for other things.
"Allow me to assist the Young Miss with her chair," said Monsieur.
Monsieur was seven feet tall. His bones were bronze and his skin was porcelain. He was one of the Attendants left behind by the Dynasty of Ten Thousand Years twelve-hundred and thirty-seven years ago. Abi d'Ilga sometimes let expedience cut short precision, but expedience was next to laziness — and laziness was bad.
"It's all right, Monsieur," she replied politely. "Madame says exercise is good for me."
Madame was Iba Algi's other Attendant.
"Madame is never wrong," conceded Monsieur.
"Be careful, Abi," said Nhao. "Too much exercise is as bad as not enough."
The fluffy kirin puppy belonged to Hermes Charleslouis but kept Abi company. Hermes was hiding somewhere nearby. Abi could feel it. That blond imp was either ten, or twelve-hundred and forty-seven, depending on how a person counted. Abi counted the little ghost as ten. It made her angry to think someone poisoned him twelve-hundred and thirty-seven years ago. Fortunately, Abi's ancestors never betrayed the elves — and even managed to extract a certain measure of justice.
Abi was as fond of justice as she was of precision.
Upon reaching the porch of her villa's front courtyard, she climbed into her rocking chair — and rocked. Nhao shrank to kitten-size and jumped into her lap. It was a lovely night. Abi's parents were away at a shindig. Madame had taken her cousins to the Kurghan Arka. The ancient giants used such cool names. Elves called the massive lump of granite Arx Titanum. That was cool too. Now it was just known as the Ancient Arsenal. That was a bit on the nose, but at least a person knew what it was all about right from the start.
Abi rubbed the top of Nhao's head. He was so warm and fuzzy, she fell asleep. His growling woke her up sometime later. Nhao had jumped down from her lap and increased his size. His fur flickered with curls of lightning. If that wasn't intimidating enough, Monsieur had taken position in front of Abi d'Ilga's chair.
Opposing the elven automaton across the courtyard was an official procession. Abi was expecting them. They looked dignified. Their robes were pompous, but not too pompous. A dozen elite soldiers backed them up. Abi recognized the captain as one of the Charlatan Emperor's favored enforcers. She also recognized the Eight Prince. Tall and athletic, he was almost twenty — and should have known better than to make Abi angry.
The Charlatan's Left Attendant stood center. She was made from the same stuff as Monsieur. The presence of elven automatons made squishy humans nervous. The officials, soldiers, and prince had not waited for Abi to wake up out of kindness. They had instead waited for the Attendants to indicate proceeding was acceptable.
Abi d'Ilga stretched and climbed out of her chair.
"You're all here!" she said.
An imposing man of advancing years and regal bearing rocked on his heels.
"In all this time," he said, "nobody, not even my own daughter, told me the young lady, her own daughter, was accompanied by one of His Majesty's Attendants. Can any other grandfather claim to have such a remarkable grandchild?"
"Old Red Bird has gotten several things wrong," said Abi.
Anger flickered through the procession. Abi's putative grandfather held the pompous title Rex Meridionalis Avis Vermilionis. Roughly, it meant he was the king of the south and backed by the mythical phoenix. He was also a military commander with key victories to his name, and was credited as an Incomparable Sword by all three temples responsible for ranking martial artists. His signature technique, Wings of the Red Bird, involved whirling around with a flaming broadsword in each hand.
"What has this old bird gotten wrong?" he asked pleasantly.
"Attendants don't belong to your Charlatan Emperor" said Abi. "Do you, Left Attendant?"
Left Attendant inclined her head politely. The procession's anger mutated into discomfort.
"Of course, calling that man Emperor is a stretch," said Abi. "In fact, however, I am accompanied by two Attendants. Madame is running errands. Furthermore, you are not my grandfather."
The Old Red Bird lost most of his facade.
"Is that so?" he asked.
"I've spent enough time on you," said Abi. She turned her attention to a different old man. Magnificent white hair enveloped him. He stood on the opposite side of the procession from Old Red Bird, and should definitely have known better than to make Abi angry. "Now that you're here, Grandiose Precept, have the stars told you what you're walking into?"
The Grand Preceptor sighed.
"Young Miss," he said, "we are not here to fight."
"Talking to this girl is absurd," said the guard captain.
He advanced. Monsieur and Left Attendant looked at him. The captain stopped.
"Kneel and receive the edict," he commanded as forcefully as he could under the circumstances.
"Kneel?" asked Abi d'Ilga. "To a little jade tube?"
"Young Miss," repeated the Grand Preceptor. "Everything is already difficult enough."
"It will get much more difficult," said Abi. "Isn't that right, soldier boy?"
The captain reached for his sword. The soldiers with him reached for their own weapons. They were clearly nervous, however. The chubby little girl was reputed to be an old witch.
The chubby little girl felt a cool puff of air. Consort Chen had arrived. Abi would have said hello, but she didn't have time. In the blink of an eye, the captain and most of his soldiers were dead.
Cut from shoulders to hips, their deaths would ordinarily have made an incredible mess. The blood erupting from their bodies froze in the air, however, and shattered into crimson shards when it hit the tiles of Abi d'Ilga's courtyard. Everyone in the procession would have become crimson shards if the Grand Preceptor had intervened a moment later.
Warakirikoban, part fox, part fairy (and not much taller than Abi), Consort Chen had been known as Snowblind Tigress before circumstances temporarily aligned her with the Charlatan Emperor way back when. The Tigress had sharp, icy features, black hair to her knees, and a temper. Like Old Red Bird, she was known for dual blades. Instead of heavy southern broadswords, however, she used a pair of delicate wakizashis. As a Millennia Soul, her techniques were considered divine.
The fact he saved as many people as he did testified to the Grand Preceptor's own skill.
Abi d'Ilga clapped.
"Grandiose Precept!" she said. "That's the first time you've done more than apologize for failing to do anything! Thank goodness Snowblind Tigress only pulled out one sword. But what will Heaven think? Fake gods get angry whenever someone prevents a tragedy."
"Girl," said Consort Chen.
"Yes?" asked Abi sweetly.
"Don't talk to strange old men," said the consort.
The soldiers who survived the attack moved their hands far away from their weapons and stepped back from animated swords quivering in their faces. Officials who survived maintained their composure better than Abi expected. The Eighth Prince stepped to one side. The blade which had tried to cut him in half tried to follow his motion, but was held in place by the Grand Preceptors spell.
"Noble Consort Chen," said the Eighth Prince politely, "wasn't that too much?"
Half Gargogryeon, the young man had a masculine voice and a bumpkin vibe.
"Would you go so far as to call it rebellion?" asked Consort Chen.
"I wouldn't dare," replied Eight. "But why so murderous?"
"Why shouldn't she be murderous?" asked Abi.
"Abi," said Eight. "We're not strangers; and we're not here to kill anyone."
"Aren't you?" asked Abi.
Her tone caused the bumpkin some visible distress.
"Abi," he protested. "We've always been on good terms."
"The two of us have," Abi agreed. "Of all the people the Charlatan still considers it useful to call family, I like you best. And for what it's worth, I'm glad that old man saved you. It's the first time he's saved anyone."
Consort Chen chuckled — and dismissed her swords.
"But the fact remains you've been a dumdum, Eight," said Abi. "The Charlatan used you on account of our strong mutual affection." She turned to the Grand Preceptor. "Seriously, old man, that boy's not even twenty and can only be expected to make bad life decisions. You've let him down."
"Young Miss," said the Grand Preceptor.
"Silence!" roared Abi d'Ilga.
The officials jumped. Nhao snarled.
"Do you want me to eat them, Abi?" he asked. "I'd be happy to eat them!"
"Not yet," replied Abi. "But thank you, Nhao. Left Attendant, you may as well give me the Charlatan's jade tube. No need to trouble yourself reading it out loud. I know what it says."
Left Attendant glided forward.
"The edict is intended…," observed an official as diplomatically as possible.
Left Attendant handed the tube to Monsieur. Monsieur carried it back to Abi. Abi took it from him politely — and tossed it onto her rocking chair.
"Richan and Edrus aren't here," she said. "If you leave right now, I'll let you go. Of course you can stay if you want, Left Attendant. Maybe we could play a game of cards."
"Among those of us called Incomparable," said Old Red Bird, "your ally is Most Incomparable."
"Then you better leave," observed Abi. "Without another word."
"I will leave," replied the nobleman. "But with your cousins — who are also my grandchildren."
"I've told you," sighed Abi. "Richan and Edrus aren't here. And now you've lost your chance."
"Eat him?" asked Nhao eagerly.
"I've never run from a fight," said Old Red Bird. "I've been in a lot."
"Monsieur," said Abi. "Please show the great warrior our edict."
"Abi d'Ilga!" said the Grand Preceptor. "Even if you only feel contempt for the current dynasty, abusing your strength to destabilize it will cause millions to suffer. We've come here to offer the best imperfect solution available for an intractable situation."
"You've come with lies," said Abi, "and should have left when I gave you the chance."
"They aren't lies," sighed the Grand Preceptor. "They are compromises."
"Ridiculous!" scowled Abi, gesturing at the scroll case. "The Charlatan falsely accuses his dead Empress of debased infidelity. Don't get me wrong. Richan and Edrus will be glad to rid themselves of such a despicable family. You should be so lucky, Eight. But lies are lies."
"Abi," said Eight. "This is the best way out. They'll be free from politics."
"They'll be dead!" countered Abi.
"That's not true!" the prince protested.
"Nincompoop!" roared Abi.
She stomped a small foot on the ground. A wave of force rippled away from her. Apart from Left Attendant, gravity began crushing everyone in the procession to the ground. Only the Grand Preceptor remained standing, and that required ferocious concentration.
"Still want to fight, Old Red Bird?" Abi demanded. "Can you even flap your wings?"
Veins of rage pushed out from the old man's neck and face. He declined to answer — and collapsed against the tiles.
"Abi!" gasped the Eighth Prince. "What's come over you?"
"Nincompoop!" roared Abi again. "Were you the only ones who came here tonight?"
"Of course we were!" insisted Eight.
Abi knew he was telling the truth as he understood it. However….
"Does Eight have it right, Grand Preceptor?" she asked.
"There would be no harm in using the prince's correct title, too," said the Grand Preceptor.
"Answer," said Abi, "or I'll send you back to Miss Minerva. You can tell her she's next in person."
Nhao jumped around the courtyard and crackled with lightning.
"Are the fake gods next, Abi?" he asked eagerly. "Are they really?"
"Yes," Abi assured him. "Now answer the question, old man; or at least try to fight back."
"There were others," he agreed.
"That's not true!" insisted Eight.
"It is true," conceded the Grand Preceptor. "But we didn't send them. Neither did the Emperor."
"Whoever sent them," said Abi, "they're gone now. Monsieur? Please show Old Red Bird the edict."
"Certainly, Young Miss."
Monsieur glided across the courtyard and spread his arms out in front of Old Red Bird. Embroidered cloth of exceptional quality appeared between his hands. The King of the South was unable to raise his head to read what was written. Abi walked to him, reached down, grabbed his hair, and pulled up.
She could be strong enough when circumstances required.
"I've prepared your confession," she said. "In it, you admit that neither the deceased Empress nor her younger sister, my mother, were actually your children. A shrewd strategist, you read the era well, and acquired infant girls from Black Crane White Frog Society for strategic marriages. To think a baby born in captivity would become Empress. But I suppose palace life is prison life, isn't it, Eight?"
"Lies!" insisted Old Red Bird.
"I use the truth better than your kind uses lies," Abi told him. "You failed to inform the Charlatan of Crane And Frog's involvement. And you got such a good deal! Most members of the nobility want the crane and frog to leave boys. I wonder how high up the food chain that goes?"
She looked at the Eighth Prince enigmatically.
"Lies!" insisted Old Red Bird.
"You deceived the Emperor," said Abi.
"Even in your scenario," said Old Red Bird, "adoption counts. The Empress and your mother were and are my daughters. I was as enraged by what happened as anyone. But the living must adapt."
"The Charlatan thought he was getting an additional guarantee of your loyalty in the form of blood relations. You knew that. Consequently, you deceived him. What's inside that tube accuses Richan and Edrus of knowing about their mother's fictional 'crime.' They were therefore also accused of deceiving the Emperor. Isn't that right?"
Old Red Bird declined to answer.
"Abi!" said Eight. "This is for the best! They won't become political props this way."
"That edict says the punishment for deceiving an Emperor is death," said Abi.
"That's not true!" said Eight.
"Is it true, Grand Preceptor?" asked Abi.
"Half true," replied the Grand Preceptor. "Now you are also playing games, Young Miss. It happens to the best of us."
"You've caught me!" said Abi. "With boundless magnanimity, the Charlatan commuted death to exile. Given that Old Red Bird has confessed…."
"I confess to nothing!"
"Isn't this your seal?" asked Abi.
"A forgery," said Old Red Bird. "A remarkable accomplishment, I admit."
"Left Attendant?" asked Abi. "Are you able to verify this is the Seal of the South?"
Monsieur showed Left Attendant the embroidered cloth. Left Attendant glided forward and studied the stamped seal. After a few moments, she testified to its accuracy — and complimented Abi on "somehow" acquiring it.
"Because Old Red Bird confessed," said Abi, "I shall show him the same consideration the Charlatan showed Richan and Edrus. The punishment is exile. But where to?"
"Abi d'Ilga!" said the Grand Preceptor. "Dark fates await those who abuse divine gifts."
"I'm not abusing anything," said Abi. "I'm dispensing justice. There's a difference!"
She let go of Old Red Bird's head. It slammed against the ground.
After stepping back a few feet, Abi tapped one foot against the ground gently. Old Red Bird's body sank into the courtyard tiles as if they were thick mud; and after a few moments, he was gone.