Waning of the Sun Gods

Rain that Falls on May 9th: III

From a young age I was taught this: oaths are serious business. Wedding oaths were the most common ones, in those days. To treasure, to serve, to protect: it wound around the soul of both oath-takers and provided a comforting weight to their promise.

They weren't meant to take on an evil form. But as the war continued, like everything else they became grimmer and grimmer. Oaths of vengeance became commonplace too, maddening things that corrupted their taker...

'Corruption', I say. But I am not sure it is something so simple as that. Ordinary corruption I can heal, scouring it out of the hearts of those it would seek to overtake. But oaths, made willingly and in good faith for a cause that their taker truly believes in? Those can be far more deadly than simple magic.

No one knows quite what happens to those who break such priceless words. Wedding oaths were mild by the standards of many – the love once held between people wound away as the lovely ribbons of their vow were torn apart.

But for those more powerful bindings upon the soul, we all feared for where they might take someone. Would they damn their takers to a violent end? Or would that be the mildest of their fates, the shackles around them so terrible that it would be as if they ceased to exist entirely...

I am reminded of the dangers of such oaths on the third morning after meeting Yendai.

Today's concerns in court seem much as they normally are. The populace is not as aware of the diminished state of the land in which they live. As such they concern themselves with what I might consider petty matters in the face of greater losses. But for them, such things are all-consuming.

I do listen, of course. But they have not earned the theater of my false sympathy.

Rital enters midway through my third meeting of the morning and attempts to catch my attention subtly. My gaze snaps to theirs, and they mouth something that I don't understand from the distance.

I glance down at the plaintiff before me. She seems as if she is very involved in the story she is telling. Surely she won't notice if I were to lean a little closer and squint over at Rital?

Taking my chance, I tilt over the arm of the throne and try to guess the words that my advisor is trying to make clear. Not for the first time, I wish that I had surrendered to my mother's wishes that I might have taken sign language as a youth. No point in such regrets now.

I'm not very talented at reading lips, and it takes me far too long to figure out what Rital is saying. Finally, I glean the general message.

"Yendai is coming here right now?" I mutter to myself, forgetting the acoustics that are supposed to be in my favor. However, at this exact moment, they betray me by carrying down my voice to the plaintiff below.

"Your Majesty? Who is... Yendai?"

Resisting the urge to wince in shame, I give her a tight smile and gesture for her to continue. "Worry not, dear subject. Our attention was elsewhere for only the barest of moments. Continue at your leisure."

It takes her a moment to be engrossed in her own tale again, but once she is I lean towards Rital again. Delay him, I mouth as I try to not let so much a whisper of the words escape me. They bow deeply, and then sweep out of the room as I focus back on the matter at hand.

The woman finishes and I had caught just enough of it to give her what seems like sound advice before hunching over in my throne with a groan.

Yendai has quickly become a major headache – a painfully earnest headache that won't stop knocking at my skull at that. Fortunately, I am certain that I still have a few minutes before Rital returns to summon my wits.

Naturally as I think that Rital swings open the door again. "Announcing Yendai of–" For the first time in our long years together, I hear Rital stumble over their words. "–of, Noinyar!"

"I said delay him," I tell them, and then am immediately aghast at my own words. Though I might be frustrated with Yendai at this point, that doesn't mean I should openly rebuke the poor man!

At least Rital looks equally embarrassed. "Oh I – I thought that was meant to be relay. As in, relay him to me..."

"Well, I'm here now. And that's what counts!" To his credit if he feels disrespected he doesn't show it at all. Instead, he marches himself before my throne and falls into a kneel. Then he invites himself to stand back up, because at this point he's gotten it into his head that I'm not going to tell him off for his casual nature in any way that matters.

"Empress Anra. I think I've determined a solution that will satisfy us all."

"Have you now," I say dryly. At least he's entertaining, unlike half the other people who come through my court. Undeniably he's charismatic and holds the attention of the room quite well. Briefly, I feel a twinge that we couldn't have known each other before I became what I am today. I would have been so charmed...

"Yes!" He looks at me directly, and I notice for the first time how his dark eyes still shine so brightly in the morning sun. "Empress Anra. I will prove to you that I can be a good leader! Take me on as one of your advisors and you'll see just how good at this I can be if I'm just given the chance. I'm sure I can lead my people well and keep them safe from anything that might seek to harm them."

I feel my face twist into an incredulous expression. "How ever did you come to the conclusion that that was my concern?"

Stumbling over his words for a moment, I see that frustrated look of his flash briefly into his eyes before he leans forward, just as confused as I am with him. "How could it not be, Your Majesty? You're the ruler of all Noinyar, obviously you want what's best for your people, right? I... I just want to show you that for this specific group of people, I could be what's best."

"You have such a simplistic view of ruling," I say, and I know now that my tone is steeping in age-long bitterness. "'What's good for the people, whatever they want of course'. It's such a pleasant sentiment. But that is the nature of running a country. Some must wane so others can rise."

He looks at me in undisguised hurt, a childish version of what he probably intends to be hate. "What made you this way?" asks Yendai, a wide sweep of his arm made at me. "What... Why would you think that way? We don't suffer when our neighbor has a good day. We can all grow together. Just because it's optimistic doesn't mean it's wrong."

Something about the way I look down at him must incense him, because his face begins to turn red with the strain of – what? Not turning this into a shouting match? "No! No, you're wrong!"

Apparently it's a shouting match anyways.

"When's the last time you even went outside the palace, huh? When's the last time you did anything, but sit there, and pretend to listen? When's the last time you cared about anything?"

"Don't speak of things you don't understand, little spirit." I try to summon my best sneer, but despite myself I can tell that I'm getting angry too. Something about Yendai brings it out in me – everything I thought I killed within myself.

"No," he insisted again. It's his favorite word in this conversation with how much he stresses it. "No, you know what? I swear–"

The room falls still and silent. The guards with their spears out if things were to get violent between us freeze in place as the word settles over them. Even Rital clutches their hands to their mouth with a little gasp. Only Yendai and I remain as the noon sun pours its light over us.

"I swear that I will see Telra free from you! And I'll be its new ruler – someone who cares about it, and doesn't view it as just another speck on the map of all these places meant to 'rise' while it falls under your kingdom's weight. Endless sea of void beyond claim me if I speak falsely, and damn you either way!"

I don't know what to say for a long time. But then again, as the weight of his new oath settles like shackles over his immortal soul, I don't think he does either.