The Lotus and the Eagle
by Michael LockwoodChapter 2
Daochen looked up from the mending she was doing at the soft tap at the wooden frame. Aristides stood in the doorway, his right hand rejoining his left at the small of his back. He still wore the leather breaches he had arrived in, though he had left off the heavy tabard, wearying only the ruffled shirt. His feet, of course, were bare. He preferred the Darokin style of dress over his native Thyatian.
"You look disturbed, my lord, I mean, Aristides." She lay the kimono that she had been mending aside. It still amazed and amused her that her betrothed was such the egalitarian.
"Daochen, I've asked you to call me Aris," he half chided. "Aristides is a mouthful even from such lovely lips as yours."
Daochen blushed. Aris seemed to enjoy making her blush.
"I'm sorry," she said," Aris sounds like ai ren, the Ochalean word for lover."
"Yikes!" Aris set his face into an exaggerated frown of mock disapproval. "we certainly can't have that!"
Daochen couldn't help herself and burst out laughing.
"But, seriously, Daochen," Aris sat on a pillow by the door and leaned against the frame. "I've just spoken with your father and he's asking me to call him Zishi."
Daochen feet her eyebrows creep into her hairline in surprise.
"I take it that is significant from your expression,” Aris said.
"It is, indeed," Daochen said, "Zishi is father's courtesy name, or style. It's complicated but important to understand."
She waited a few moments to emphasize the point.
"There are three modes of address when two men interact with another. The first is the younger generation to the older. The second is older generation to younger and the final is when two men are of the same generation address each other."
Aris nodded to show that he understood.
"Calling a man by his clan and given name can be seen as patronizing, especially for somebody of your own generation. But it's expected of someone of an older generation to do so. Consider your parents talking to you, it's much the same connotation. So, when a man comes of age, he selects his courtesy name for others to call him."
"So, by having me use his courtesy name, he's elevating me to his generation, so to speak," Aris raised an eyebrow in question.
"Yes," Daochen nodded. "As a member of a younger generation, you would address him as Master Tzao, or his rank. You would also be entitled to refer to him as 'father-in-law'."
"That is fascinating!" Aris exclaimed. "and something that I would have fouled up alone. Thank you"
"You are most welcome, Aris," Baochen bowed from her seated position. "May I suggest a courtesy name for you?"
"Of course," Aris said, "I would like that very much indeed."
"I would suggest Yunchang. It carries implications of fierce bravery, unrivaled loyalty, and absolute fidelity an oath given.”
Aris pondered on it for a few moments. "A weighty name indeed," he said. "I like it. Not so much that I possess those qualities, but as a reminder to reach for them."
"And what shall I call you?" he asked.
"My father calls me his lotus blossom," she replied.
Aris shook his head. "No, a father's name for their child is sacred and I won't invade that space."
"What of something from your homeland?" Daochen asked. "You've taken an Ochalean name, it's only fair that I have one from Thyatis."
Aris thought for a few moments.
"My father runs the silk side of the family business, but one of his hobbies is floriculture. Over the years, he's developed a rose of extraordinary beauty. Its petals are the color of a maiden's blush.” Aris looked into Daochen's eyes.
“But its beauty hides hellishly sharp thorns. If not handled very carefully, those thorns will slice your hands. You remind me of that flower, the Machetos Rose. Your beauty is unsurpassed and hiding a wit as capable as the sharpest of blades. I don't consider myself a stupid man, but you are far more intelligent than I will ever be."
Aris stood and walked over to his bride-to-be. He bent down and took her hands, drawing her to her feet. They were close, far too close than an unmarried man and woman should be. But she wasn't worried about her virtue in the least. Aristides Sakigenetos was a good man, principled and disciplined.
"Tzao Daochen," he looked into her eyes and his voice became more formal, "will you be my Machetos Rose?"
Daochen smiled and rose to her tiptoes to give her husband to be the briefest of kisses on the lips.
"I do, Yunchang, I most certainly do.”
Why the founders of Wu Li, the Capitol of Chung provence built the city so far away from the shores of Kai Bay was a question that frequently ran through the mind of Zhong Ming, Governor of Chung on more than once. In his twenty-three years in office, he had yet to find an answer. At the very least, being on the coast let the breeze from the Great Northern Gulf would ease the constant oppressive humidity.
He hated this province. He hated the trees. He hated the geography. More importantly. he hated the people. They were constantly complaining. Peasants such as they should have gladly paid their taxes for what Zhong brought them. If they found that tax burdensome, was it his fault that they had to shed their lazy lifestyle and actually be productive?
Ming sighed and swatted at yet another flying pest that infested this forsaken land. Chung hadn't been his first choice, far from it. But, the death of the previous governor without an heir had presented itself as an opportunity that Ming couldn't pass on. There was no guarantee that a more valuable province would become available. So, he had used his influence at court and no small amount of bribery, to obtain his governorship. Nothing said another Province wouldn't come open and, as a governor, he would have far more clout.
Unfortunately, in his twenty-three years in this backwoods hovel, none of the other governors had had the manners to die without an heir. Two had died, but both had viable heirs, the heirs themselves had viable heirs.
There was one possibility. The province of Sung, on the east of the island of Ochalea, was governed by a middle-aged weakling, unmarried with no heir. His wife had died in childbirth. If Ming could get his hands on Sung, he would quickly rise through the ranks of the court at Beitung. Sung had rich gold deposits and bordered the Celestial province. With that kind of influence, what limit could there possibly be? Even the Dragon Throne would be within his grasp.
He didn't turn when the door to his office opened. He did frown. His servants knew to never disturb him unless he expressly summoned them. This had better be worth the punishment the unfortunate server had just incurred. But, the punishment would have been far more severe had important business not been brought to his attention.
Such was the lot of a servant. The ungrateful cretins should be thankful that he couldn't sell the lot of them into slavery and buy competent help.
"My Lord," there was a notable tremor in the man's voice. Meng reveled in it, bathing in the fear his power caused.
"A Master Smith begs for a few moments of your time."
"How dare you?" Ming snapped. His temper flared. "How dare your waste my time with every bit of rabble trash that approaches asking for a handout!"
The unfortunate soul dropped to his knees and slammed his head hard against the wooden floor. The kowtow, literally knock head, must have been the last, futile attempt at appeasing his lord.
"Forgive me, my lord!" The man's weeping voice was muffled by the floorboards. "He possesses a letter of introduction encrusted with many seals.”
“Seals?” Ming mocked. “You've bet your family's well-being on scraps of ribbon and puddles of wax?”
The prostrate man said nothing. There was nothing to say. His fate, and those of his wife and their young son, were already cast. All that was wanting was to await the results.
"Still," Ming said and waddled his way to his desk chair, “you may show him in. I hope, for your sake, that this man proves to be worth my time.”
It was only a short moment before the door opened again and a tall man entered. He had white skin, only lightly tanned, blond hair and blue eyes. His pace was almost a march as he approached the desk. The last step was sharp, clicking the heels, together.
A Hattian? Ming thought to himself. What is a Hattian doing here?
"My loud," His voice was strange. the constants were clipped and the vowels were almost entirely missing
"Master Smith," Zhong Ming said in a cool tone. "My servant said that you have a letter of introduction."
"Of course, my lord." He reached into his inner pocket and pulled out a folded sheaf of papers with bits of ribbon fluttering as he handed Ming the packet. Ming opened the pages and his eyes widened at some of the seals.
"I must admit, my Lord, that the seals are complete fakes.
"What?" Ming sat in outraged silence.
"They are frauds. A man in my line of work doesn't carry around documents that can be traced back to their employer."
"Who are your employers?" Ming asked. His curiosity was piqued but Smith shrugged.
"Men of the empire who agree with you that reannexation with Thyatis is a bad idea. I believe that you will find my true letters of introduction, so to speak, on the following pages."
Ming crumpled the fake document and his eyes widened. These were Darokin letters of credit. Quite a few of them.
"Is this a bribe?"
"Of course not. my Lord," the Hattian said. "Consider it a token to show our commitment to the cause of Ochalean independence."
Zhong Ming folded the pages and lightly tossed them onto his desk.
“I suspect that you are one Euesubius' stooges,” he said. “I think you are simply here to tempt me into treason and have me removed.”
“Foremost, my lord,” the Hattian shrugged again, “the emperor is hardly concerned with a province as insignificant as Chung.
Ming folded the papers up and casually dropped them on his desk.
"Or you could be one of Eusebius ' stooges and tempting me into something treasonous."
Smith nodded as if considering the point
"That is certainly a valid concern," he said. "However, let me ask another question. Why would the emperor bother with such a small province?"
Ming felt his face go pale as anger flared. He wrestled with it to consider the Hattian man's question. Why would Eusebius waste efforts on a flyspecks place like Chung? Even Ming had to concede this place was absolutely worthless.
"There are other provinces," The Hattian continued, "that are far more concerning targets. Sung itself has both the riches and proximity to Beitung to make the emperor lie awake at night."
Ming gritted his teeth. The damn foreigner was right. Chung was an insignificant little pimple on Ochalea's backside.
"I see," Ming finally said. "what sort of assistance would you require?"
"The better question is what can we do for you?"
"Excuse me?" Ming hadn't expected that answer.
"I can't pass for Ochalean," Smith motioned at his distinctly non-Ochalean facial features. "And since I can't, that means I have to rely on allies who are Ochalean. What we can provide in funding, directions, and intelligence to support your efforts. You will discover that our support can be quite extensive."
Zhong Ming, Governor, of the province. of Chung looked at the loosely folded papers on his desk.
Extensive indeed, he thought to himself.
"What's in it for you?" Ming asked.
"We believe that the Empire of Thyatis has enough 'diversity' of cultures and doesn't need another mongrel kingdom polluting what little purity remains."
Ming should have been greatly offended, but he was surprised to find that he wasn't. In retrospect, he expected it. The Hattian reputation for racial purity was legendary. And, to be honest, Ming agreed. Annexation allowed Thyatian barbarian influence to reinfect the court in Beitung. They were only now finishing the purge from before independence.
"I assure you, Master Smith, we want less of you than you of us."
****
The man who had introduced himself as "Master Smith" whistled a jaunty tune completely out of character from the ramrod stiffness he had displayed for the idiot governor. He was actually Sebastian walker, agent for the New Alphatian Confederated Empire.
He turned casually onto another street, more of an alley. Once he was certain he was out of sight, he quickly squeezed behind a stack of produce crates that he had placed specifically for this reason. It was probably pointless, Ochalean counter-intelligence didn't exist and it was highly unlikely that the Thyatian agencies had put their own people in place. But, Sebastian hadn't stayed alive as long as he had by relying on lazy assumptions. He waited for a full five minutes before he felt sure that he wasn't being followed.
His destination was just ahead, a small home that he had purchase with an Ochalean partner. Granted the "partner" was permanently away on "business" didn't matter. He had needed a name on the rolls that was local.
He opened the door and stepped inside. The interior was darker than he was accustomed to. He kept his home in Ionace well-lit. Here, the only illumination, other than what came from the darkening twilight through the windows was the fire that he and his partner kept continually lit.
"It went well, I take it?" Jacob Vorcester asked.
"Indeed," Sebastian flopped into a chain. The fool thinks I represent a Hattian conspiracy faction."
"Oh?" Jacob asked," And how did you do that."
"Easy enough," Sebastian waved dismissively, "Dress like one, talk like one, and spout their disgusting racial purity crap and you've set the expectation. After that, it's a case of not being too clear which emperor or empire you are referring to."
“So, we're still green light on the operation?”
“Absolutely!” Sebastian grinned. “And I'm looking forward to this one.”
Daochen Sakigenetos stood in front of the mirror of her dressing room. She ran her hand across her still flat stomach, but some instinct insisted that something germinated inside of her. She dared not give that hope too much weight lest she would find disappointment. But, she had missed her last cycle, so perhaps. She raised her arms to let Liu slide a leisure kimono over her shoulders. A wide belt wound around her waist and cinched firmly kept the kimono closed.
"Thank you, Liu," Daochen said. "That will be all for today."
"I don't mind, my lady." Liu had followed Daochen from her father's house.
"Nonsense," Daochen admonished, "you have some chores to do before your lunch with the young baker down the street."
Liu blushed and nodded her thanks before leaving the room.
Daochen smiled and moved to her desk. Aris had a different attitude towards servants than Ochaleans, and most Thyatians she suspected. For one, they only had three, Liu, a Darokin named Jacques, and Linus. Liu and Jacques were Daochen's and Aris' personal servants, respectively. Linus hailed from Hattias but seemed oddly absent of that Hattian racism. He was their cook and a good one at that. He had been trained in Thyatis City and would tell you that is where he lost his moral superiority.
What really set their staff apart was the freedom that Aris insisted on giving them. They were only required in the mornings to help with preparing for the day and in the evenings where they helped close for the night. Dinner tended to be something of a family meal with all of them eating together. Other than that, as long as the house was maintained, the middle of the day was theirs to do with as they wished.
She had asked Aris why he wanted this. He had responded:
When Callastian's rebellion failed, my father couldn't be sure how deep the emperor would purge the duchy. So he gave my sister and me assumed names and placed us in households as menial servants. We were virtually slaves. I learned then what the life of a servant can be and what a little kindness can win."
Though it felt odd to her, Daochen couldn't argue with the results, the house was immaculate. Linus always ensured that lunch and snacks were prepared and ready should either she on Aris need them. They would also give up that time on occasion when a particular task required it. And if the task were rather large, all three would stay and assist the other and banter happily the entire time. She had heard of grumblings from the Beitung high society busybodies of how shamefully Aris ran his house. Daochen had to admit that it did feel strange, but she was a product of Ochalean culture. Ochalean culture could be very conservative indeed.
She knelt at her desk and neatly folded the cuffs of her sleeves back to keep them out of any ink. Thank Korylis that she wasn't wearing her more formal furisode, with its long, pendulous sleeves. Folding her sleeves back revealed a golden bracelet. It was a relatively simple thing, the only engraving was that of a rose and the only jewels were the rubies that formed the petals. It wasn't heavy as it was solid, and shaped perfectly for her wrist. Aris had given it to her on their wedding night. He had said that it was a reminder. Of what, she didn't know, He never told her what it was a reminder of.
She smiled at the memory of that night. It had started somewhat awkwardly. She was ashamed to admit to some trepidation as Aris began removing his eye patch. She had steeled herself against flinching when it came off. But, it was with a weird sense of relief and disappointment that a whole, healthy eye lay beneath the patch.
Aris had apologized, he was so accustomed to the patch that he hardly thought about it. He then explained that the scar and loss of the eye had actually occurred during a staged match in the gladiatorial arenas in Thyatis City. His opponent had been slightly too quick and he slightly too slow in their orchestrated fight. As a result, the other gladiator's sword caught Aris in the forehead and sliced downwards across his brow, eye, and cheek. He had found a healer to fix the eye a few days later, but he had wanted to keep the scar as a reminder. Daochen thought he kept it more because he thought it made him look more rakish.
Which it did.
He had won the eye patch off of a Ylari trader in a game of cards. It was a minor Glantri magical item and let the wearer see auras around magical items and effects. He said it was useful to simply be aware of any magic in the room.
And, speaking of magical, the rest of the evening was spent beyond words. It was full of joy and full of pain. Exquisite pain that strangely added to the enchantment. Daochen shook her head and pulled herself back from the memory. If she kept down that line of thought, she'd be writing silly stories full of throbbing and gasping. The maiden of a few months ago would have blushed at the thought. The woman of today only chuckled and burned her mind to her task.
She had been blessed to have a father that was wealthy enough to afford to have his daughter educated. She was luckier still to have a father who believed that his daughter should be educated. The vast majority of women in Ochalea were uneducated, barely literate for the most part. And of those, not all were from impoverished families. Even most wealthy wives and daughters could do little better than read a book of poetry.
She had gravitated towards mathematics. Numbers never lied. One plus one always equaled two. She enjoyed it, but it could get tedious. You can only take an inventory so many times before you screamed with boredom.
Fortunately, her current task was anything but boring. Aris had introduced her to the art of trading and she was hooked. Trade gave the numbers she loved context. They were no longer simply smears of ink on paper. They were marks that were fueled by countless factors. A storm in Kai Bay could easily change the value of timber coming out of Chung. Disease among the mulberry trees in Machetos could mean the silkworm larvae starved, destroying the production of silk from the county. Any trader who could find a supply of mulberry leaves to help nurse the county through the disaster would not only earn the appreciation of not only the Count and his court but also make a hefty profit as well.
She barely noticed the door slide open behind her, and flinched ever so lightly as Aris kissed her behind her right ear. His hands went under her arms to playfully squeeze her breasts.
"Ai ren!" she slapped playfully at his hands. "what will the neighbors say?"
"Ah, my rose," he sat beside her. "Our nearest neighbors are almost two miles away. If they can see us that far," his grin turned devilish," I hope they enjoy the show."
Daochen sniffed with mock disapproval, but the grin never left her face.
"Did your session with Baojie go well?" Daochen changed the subject.
Aris wasn't a stupid or slow man. But he was, first and foremost, a fighter, used to impulse decisions. When given options, he preferred the most direct. As a representative of his father's trading interests, he knew that he couldn't make snap decisions. Or, when he was forced to, not take the most direct by default.
Daochen had suggested engaging in one of Ochalea's martial art disciplines. Contrary to public perception, martial arts aren't simply learning how to fight, but to learn control, both of the body and the mind which controlled it. Daochen had listed a few options and Aris, naturally, chose kendo.
Despite his youth, Tzu Wang, courtesy name Baojie, was considered one of the top masters of kendo in Beitung. He had readily agreed to take Aris as a student and the pain had become good friends.
"Well enough”, Aris shrugged. "He says that I'm using too much energy.”
"He's probably right," she said. "A large aspect of martial arts is reducing your energy expenditure. An exhausted warrior can't fight effectively."
"Perhaps you should spar against him." Aris smiled
"Unfortunately, I am but a mere woman," she sighed theatrically, "Women aren't trained in martial arts, sha gua."
Aris chuckled, sha gua translated literally to "silly melon" or the equivalent of "idiot" or "fool", but in a joking, loving idiom.
"well, bao bei, I've seen you practicing what looks strangely like the arts."
Daochen cringed. Bao bei meant "baby" and Aris knew she hated that term of endearment. which is why he had used it.
"That is Tai Chi," she clarified. "Most girls are taught the rudimentary basics of it. It teaches grace, balance, poise, and control."
"I've seen some of those moves," he said, "a few of those are takedown moves on I've never been in the arena."
"My instructor may have slipped a few defensive katas in during instruction,” Daochen demurred.
"I'm glad they did," Aris said, "It's nice to know my wife can defend herself."