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The Gamer Chapter 1883 – Dance [Lu Zhi POV]
🕑 Added 2025-05-08 10:50:25 +0000 UTCUpon the Dragon Throne, the Heavenly Jade Empress dwelled. A flowing dress flowed from her, the smooth satin shimmering in the light of the nine large candles that had been ignited around her to pray for her longevity and the eternity of the Middle Empire. Over the white of her dress, scrolls of other fabrics had been unfurled, on them painted the rivers of the land and the mountains of the domain.
Lu Zhi’s eyes were closed. The lids had been painted red and green. Pale was the rest of her face, whitened by expensive powder that was heavily scented with lotus flowers. Her hair had been tied up into a fanning display, the black strands artfully stretched over a piece of gold and ivory. A hair needle of green jade pinned it in place. Three servants had been needed to weave her hair, four to dress her, and four more stood ready to carry the excess cloth of her sleeves and skirt should she ever rise from the most important seat in all of Asia.
In the lap of the Heavenly Jade Empress lay her hands. One was flat on the fabric of her skirt, pulled almost taut between her legs. The other turned and turned a folded fan of jade in her hand, rubbing off the powder that whitened her skin. Tianlong, the god of tradition, lay across the shawl that was once wrapped around her neck. Still, the foundation of the Mandate of Heaven waited and watched.
Before the Dragon Throne, the nobles and new men of the Middle Empire had gathered. They were the strong of the Mandate of Heaven, those that held influence by might inherited, perceived or blessed with. They were the men and women who were as pillars that held up the realm, extending the reach of the mandated sovereign. They knelt, their foreheads pressed into the floor in prostration.
Two times eight sat on the layer on which the great structure of the Dragon Throne was located. All sixteen of those that were sworn to the Heavenly Jade Empress personally had arrived.
Below them, down a flight of seven steps, were the nobles at large. Those that governed the cities and the provinces, who swore their fealty to those that governed territories.
348 of them had been invited, a reminder that all noble houses were blessed with three lifetimes of wealth. The 348 strongest and wealthiest, most influential, all of them kneeling, their foreheads pressed into the floor in prostration.
Below them, down a staircase with three steps, was a large courtyard, open, in part, to the sky above. There knelt, heads pressed to the floor in prostration, thousands of eunuchs and lesser nobles, those who governed and operated the ministries. In more gracious meetings, the influential among them were allowed to rise to the middle layers. Today, no pencil pusher was desired within speaking distance of the Heavenly Jade Empress.
Not even the Dragon Spears, the personal guard of the sovereign of the Middle Empire, were allowed to stand. They formed a corridor between them, two rows of four on each level of the throne room of the Heavenly Jade Empress. Their spears lay beside them as they knelt, their foreheads pressed into the floor in prostration.
Lu Zhi’s eyes opened.
None had their heads raised to see the change, yet all did shudder. “Raise your heads,” spoke the Heavenly Jade Empress and thousands of subjects straightened up in unison. “As the sovereign of all gathered, we have summoned you, and as the sovereign of all gathered, we now command you. Raise the imperial banners and the banners of your armies all, for we will march.”
“To where, my empress?” asked prime minister Xi Pang, as was tradition.
“Across the sea, to the land of Fusion, where the First Foe has beset Fusion.”
The air in the room tensed at the announcement. ‘What might they have expected I called them for?’ Lu Zhi thought into the silence, in which only cloth dared to whisper. That was until one spoke.
“By my right as advisor in matters all, honoured sovereign, we do not owe Fusion our aid in such capacity.”
Lu Zhi’s eyes slowly wandered to the speaker. Local differences between the garbs were common within the court of the Middle Empire, vast as the realm was. Yet, this one deviated much from the sash-tied robes common among the Chinese. He wore a red shirt of almost western make, save for the patterns woven in gold thread on black patches. They were angular and flowery, like the decorations of gemstones on his boots, emulating the shape of footwear made for marches even if they were of too fine a make to use them for that purpose. On his head, he had placed a hat of felts. His skin was darkened, the shape of his face different but not removed from the East Asians around him, for he was of a region at the crossroads between the people of the Middle Empire and the people of the steppes.
He was Ismail Khan, the elderly king of Xinjiang and the western frontier, and Lord of the Taklamakan. He was ruler of the Uyghurs and the other steppe peoples of the western reaches. The men left and right of him, the Horse Lord of the Mongols and the Banner Lords of the Manchu, nodded in agreement with his question. All of them were of dynasties that had once taken over the Middle Empire and been assimilated over time into its broader structure. For their service of unifying the realm in the times of weakness, they had been granted titles for as long as they remained strong.
“Continue,” Lu Zhi allowed.
“To aid Fusion would strain us. Their tribute aids us greatly, of this there is no doubt, but we would pay a hundredfold more were we to aid them with our full army. Your honour is most sublime, Heavenly Jade Empress, to help a new friend with such force.”
“Yet you question our wisdom?”
“I would not dare, Heavenly Jade Empress. I believe your nobility is-“
“Do not waste our time with your sweet talk.” Despite its soft tone, Lu Zhi’s interruption was as sharp as a knife. The tension in the air became even thicker. Still, there was silence, save for the running of water from the two magical springs that poured from the Dragon Throne and the mana of its holder. “Share with us your opinion, Lord of the Taklamakan.”
“We stand little to gain and we have no reason to send thousands of our own to die, especially not against the Lorylim. If you must send someone, send an elite force.”
“An elite force cannot patrol a continent,” Lu Zhi answered flatly. “To defeat the First Foe is an honour, as it is akin to disinfecting the wound of a friend. To serve in my war is a duty, for all present have sworn your oaths.”
Xi Pang cleared his throat, a sound like a grindstone getting dragged over a concrete floor in this room. “With all due respect, Heavenly Jade Empress, we are sworn to the protection of your realm, not of your… fancy acquaintance.”
The tone of the prime minister made it clear to all that listened what he implied. That he was correct did not matter, only the disrespect did. “Prostrate yourselves!” Lu Zhi’s voice sharply echoed through the room.
Thousands of scared eunuchs and lesser nobles hurriedly pressed their foreheads to the floor.
Hundreds of respecting nobles gracefully pressed their foreheads to the floor.
Sixteen of the highest men and women in the realm hesitantly pressed their foreheads to the floor.
Lu Zhi rose from the Dragon Throne. There was the clatter of the scrolls falling to the ground and then the soft noise of stone being raised from wood. The excessive cloth of her landscape dress hushed over the ground as she marched to stand before the prime minister. Three steps and a raised arm, followed by a command. “Xi Pang, raise your head.”
Confidently, he did. He thought he had her cornered, had her in a position of weakness – and he was correct. To mobilize all forces for a nation so new and loosely affiliated, even if positively, was much to ask for by an empress that had been in power for so short a time. Reasonably, she should not have called this meeting in the first place.
Xi Pang did not raise his head to see a woman of reason.
At the end of a half-raised hand was a sword. It was a jian, a traditional Chinese sword, older than most guilds that existed in the Abyss that day. Double-edged, straight and simple, it had no guard. The blade and the handle were all one piece of white-green stone. It was not decorated nor were its dimensions in any way unusual. The tip of that sword now pointed to Xi Pang, the Sword that Separates Heaven and Earth.
The man paled.
Beads of sweat formed on his hairless head.
His eyes went wider and wider, until he looked like a panicked horse.
His breathing became audible.
“M-my Empress, is this a jo-“ he asked, his voice mirthful with the false joy of extreme stress. It got stuck in his throat, when he raised his eyes to behold her face. Despite the white paint, her expression was dark, her pupils narrow slits, barely visible in the glow of her green eyes.
None knew more of what happened than the few words that Xi Pang had gotten out. None could speculate on more than what they heard. Few even heard it. Only those whose heads remained on the floor of the uppermost layer could make it all out.
Lu Zhi said nothing. She turned around. She returned to the Dragon Throne and placed the Sword that Separated Heaven and Earth back on its wall-mounted, wooden holster. Then, she calmly pulled away the sash around her waist. Loosened, the many layers of the dress cascaded from her under their own weight. She reached within a bottomless chest behind the Dragon Throne and withdrew a towel, swiftly soaked in the springs of her seat of power. She cleansed herself of the powder that whitened her skin, of the lipstick and the paint to her eyelids.
Only the prime minister saw her go through the ritual. All others remained as they were for all of the minutes it took her. Once she was done, she faced the Prime Minister again. He had steadied himself, for the most part, and yet almost recoiled when she gazed at him. All she wore now was a band of flexible fabric that covered her breasts and loose pants.
“Our esteemed advisors,” she spoke, finally.
They shifted, expecting the orders to raise their heads. When it did not come, they answered in a unified. “”Yes, Heavenly Jade Empress?””
“We find ourselves in a predicament. While we must insist on this war, it is evident that there is resistance to the raising of the banners. Thus, we ask, what could be done to assure that the oaths are fulfilled.”
Lu Zhi already knew the answer she would receive. She wished to know who would speak it first.
It was the Lord of the Taklamakan. “A grand ritual, to inspire the men,” he suggested. “A ritual that will make them know that the Middle Empire is unbeatable.”
There was only one such ritual.
One ritual that gave her enemies pawns to play against her.
One ritual that would empower the Middle Empire to its true strength.
One ritual that had the ability to reduce her reign to nothing, so shortly after it had truly begun.
‘I will face whatever challenge. Vengeance for my beloved’s mother, I swear upon heaven and earth.’ “Raise your heads and follow,” declared Lu Zhi, who kicked off her bothersome shoes as she descended the stairs. “Witness what the fewest will ever witness.”
Lu Zhi did not care if they were actually following her. She walked from the Heavenly Jade Palace down the Path of Divine Dew. Vaguely, she acknowledged the sounds of heralds screaming out what was about to happen. Horns were blown, carrying the signal across the Forbidden City. Runners were sent out, to summon the members of the clans of the capital. A hundred musicians were pulled from their current locations, all to oblige the decision of the sovereign.
Who, on naked feet, entered the Plaza of the Four Beasts.
Long and elegant were her strides. Her path took her to the centre, to the great mosaic of Tianlong that none were to tread upon – none but her. Past the eight great drums placed around it, in its centre, she stood, and began to dance.
The sound of her soles was all that filled the air at first. Her motions were ancient and timeless. Never was the rhythmic placing of feet and the circling of hips out of fashion. She danced in a small circle, the circle outlined by the great sphere that the mosaic of Tianlong held in its claws. Then, suddenly, she stomped thunderingly twice, her supernatural power making the smack of skin on stone as loud as the reverberations of the drums.
DUM! DUM!
Men that had trained all their lives for this purpose stood by the great drum barrels. They beat them in perfect synchronicity, wooden cylinders in their hands.
DU-DU-DU-DUM! DU-DU-DU-DUM!
Lu Zhi’s legs moved in unison with the drum beat. Her arms moved artistically, helping her keep her balance. They were instruments to that end, little more. The focus of the dance lay in the motions of her feet.
DUM! DU-DUM! DUM! DU-DUM!
The rhythm was still heating up. Those that worked the great drums were joined by those that carried smaller drums into position. As they settled where they ought to, Lu Zhi manifested the ancient letters in her mind. This incantation was ancient, so ancient it was not spoken as a phrase.
CLACK! CLACK!
A short breather, the beating of drum sticks against drum sticks. Then, finally, the end of the warm up.
DRRR-r-r-r-r-r---!
The anticipating roiling of rapid drumming petered out. With it accelerated and then slowled Lu Zhi as she danced the first symbol of the first phrase.
DRRR- DUM-DUM-DUM! DRRRRR- DUM-DUM-DUM!
Her feet were the endpoints of the brushes. Every swing of her legs had to be a masterstroke of calligraphy; every step was the beginning of a new line. She sashayed, she stomped, she twirled, she marched. There was an order to every letter, passed down from the very first writers. A line of tradition so thorough that no records of it remained, only memories deep enough to be etched in culture itself.
DUM! DUM! CLACK-CLACK-CLACK! DUM! DUM! CLACK-CLACK-CLACK!
Magic poured from her skin. It made her hot to the core, as if she had been dwelling in steaming hot water for too long. Steam did rise from her, turning green on its way, before getting absorbed by Tianlong. The dragon circled above, over and over again tracing the lines of her danced phrases. The letters burned prismatic on the mosaic.
The drums were a constant, fast-paced rhythm now.
Lu Zhi was drenched in sweat. Her superhuman physique was taxed by the process. Too much magic flowed from her to empower her lips, making her little more than a fit woman executing a precise and taxing dance. Her lungs felt like iron and yet she kept moving. She would suffer this gladly for him.
Step by step, the sentences were written for all the crowd to read. The script was as universal to read as it was universal to hear the meaning of the spoken incantations.
“Great Four Beasts, upon whose foundations we dwell.
Great Four Beasts, we ring your awakening bell.
Vermillion Phoenix of the South, your fire we ignite.
Azure Dragon of the East, from wood we shape your might.
Black Turtle of the North, to land and sea we bid you march.
White Tiger of the West, with metal we forge your claws.
Great Four Beasts, your sovereign calls.
Great Four Beasts, your sovereign calls.
Heed us, heed us, be you loyal lords or lords of strife?
We, your sovereign, call, Jade Dragon above all.
I beg of your aid, just a human, so small.
I beg of your aid.
One life’s freedom, you are paid.”
Lu Zhi stomped down in the centre of the great mosaic and finally stopped. She could barely see, her clothes sticky with the sweat soaked into it. She gulped, her tired eyes following as the prismatic letters to her feet galvanized in colour. What had been the spectrum of the rainbow turned red, blue, black and white, each colour concentrating in the line of the incantation dedicated to one of the four beasts.
The letters peeled off the ground. Strokes transformed into parts of liquid-gaseous forms of the four Cardinal Beasts. They turned to the Heavenly Jade Empress, beheld her with critical eyes, then bowed their head to the form of Tianlong above, a serpentine dragon a hundred metres long. All four then turned their gaze skyward, turning into beams of pure mana that simply disappeared.
Lu Zhi did not dare to collapse. Despite her exhausted state, she pulled her shoulders back and began to walk. Tianlong’s connection to her was disrupted, but it would restore itself in due time. She headed towards her sixteen closest subordinates. She could rest after handing out the orders. None would dare oppose her mobilization order now.
“Call upon the robber general, we will need the World Turtle,” she croaked.
“As you wish,” Xi Pang said and bowed his head. He half turned to leave, then suddenly twisted around on his heels. His face was an expression of utter horror. He charged in, his fist crashing into the face of Ismail Khan.
Lu Zhi was confused. She looked at them. She realized she was tilting. People screamed orders. Her shoulders lay in the arms of other men. It bothered her. Why were they touching their sovereign, the woman of another, without permission? Why was she feeling so cold all of a sudden? When had a dagger been stabbed into her stomach?
‘Poison,’ she thought – then, darkness.
Comments
LOLZMAN
The fun part is that we can't really tell if this is the work of Izha or just the internal politics of the mandate of heaven.
Fenbags
Amazing set up for someone to scream "KHAAAAAAAAANN"
