The young Emperor reads the appeal again. Towns stricken by disaster; displaced families short of grain, waiting to be settled. The provinces ask for troops against the demons and money for relief. The last line urges the court to send help quickly.
Outside, lamps still burn along the capital's walls and palace roads. Here in the audience hall, ministers wait beside the open memorials and stacks of papers. A brush rests across the corner of the appeal, its red ink beginning to dry.
The Emperor lowers the hand pressed to his temple and slides the report towards General Vanguard. Lamplight catches the childish softness of his face, but the crease between his brows does not ease.
「Have the local garrisons been sent out?」
「They have, Your Majesty. The demons have not been driven back.」 Above his armour collar, the General's face is scarcely out of boyhood. He answers without hesitation. 「Word from our forward posts arrived before the provincial reports. Several places in the northeast are in turmoil.」
「What would you advise?」
The General bends over the appeal. The Emperor follows his gaze and waits.
Before he can answer, a minister brings a frontier dispatch to the desk. Wei, Yue, Huan: their border disputes remain unsettled. Fighting between the Southern Emperor and the other kingdoms has spread unrest to the empire's borders too.
「The frontier armies also request reinforcements. If we divert more troops to the northeast, I fear…」
The Emperor looks up, and the minister falls silent, the dispatch still in his hands. The General studies the markings on the desk, his finger moving towards the northeast. Before he can speak, a guard turns outside. Armour clatters faintly.
Far off, towards the Celestial Tower, violet and gold shine through the night. Tier after tier lights within the clouds. Above them, streams of five-coloured light begin to brighten the sky.
The Emperor rises with a hand on the desk. His sleeve catches the unanswered memorials and nearly draws the top one to the floor.
「The Tower is lit… Could the Celestial Princess have descended?」
A little smile comes to his lips. He takes half a step towards the doors. The others are looking up too, and five colours shine across the armour outside.
No one answers.
He draws back his sleeve, straightens the memorials and returns to his place behind the desk.
「The Princesses have descended at intervals of five hundred years, sometimes a thousand,」 says the minister with the dispatch, his voice low. 「Only a hundred have passed. This may not…」
「That is true.」 The State Preceptor stands beside the desk, his hair and beard white, his gaze still turned towards the doors. 「Yet a sign like this in the heavens must have meaning. We cannot yet say whether it bodes well or ill.」
Turning to General Vanguard, he says, 「Go with a calm mind. Do not let your expectations obscure what you find. See how the people there are faring, too.」
The General bows his assent and turns to the Emperor. 「Your Majesty, I request leave to ride out and investigate. I would need to take my detachment of your personal guard.」
The Emperor's hand pauses beside the tiger tally. His gaze passes from the General's shoulder armour to the doors, where the guards stand with hands on their swords. Beyond them, the rainbow streams are already fading; the Tower still glows within the clouds.
The General waits until the Emperor looks back at him, then bows once more.
「Granted. If you encounter people asking for aid on the road, see them safely settled first.」
「That may delay the investigation.」
The Emperor looks down at the appeal, still open on the desk, and lifts the tiger tally. The General comes forward with both hands held out. The tally settles into his palms; the Emperor's fingers let go.
「Then let it be delayed. Go, General.」
With a soft rustle of armour, the General bows and withdraws. The Emperor watches his back pass through the lamplight beyond the doors. Only when he is out of sight does the Emperor sit down and dip his brush.
The footsteps fade. His brush hovers above the appeal. Beside him, a minister picks up another memorial and waits.
「Bring it here.」
At the foot of the steps, four Riders wait beside their mounts. Metal fittings fold close along the horses' flanks: some long and narrow, others broad and thick, with fine light showing through the seams. The General secures the tiger tally. In the northeast, it will give him authority to muster troops.
He fastens his wrist guards and stands with the four before their mounts. Their voices rise together:
「Many hands have made this vessel; All the people share this frame. Honour what our hands receive; Bear our arms to end cruel deeds. Let no killing be our glory; Let our homeland dwell in peace. With the people, give our strength; Keep our vow upon the road.」
The recitation ends. All five mount, and the glazeworks set between their shoulder plates light in turn.
White mist streams from the horses' nostrils: celestial qi. Before their neighs fade, the overlapping plates beneath their necks begin to open and close, one after another. Lamplight slides across metal as they turn. A forehoof strikes the palace paving with a clear, ringing note. Behind it, the other hooves sound.
At the city gate, the commander inspects the tiger tally and clears the way. The gates swing slowly apart. Five small glimmers of armour pass beyond them onto the northeastern road.
General Vanguard looks towards the Tower. Its last glow is thinning in the clouds.
The five ride on. Their armour lights only a short stretch of road; farther ahead, the hills and the road itself disappear into darkness.