by Fuyumi Ono
The right course of action had always seemed self-evident. Because King Fu had strayed from the Way, they simply assumed that everything he did must have been wrong. They'd burned the midnight oil on so many occasions picking apart everything King Fu did and talking about how things ought to be and dreaming of paradise.
Their criticisms of King Fu had fertilized the seeds of those dreams. Every mistake the government made and every spot of corruption that came to light nurtured them and made them more concrete in their minds. If King Fu did it, then it must be undone. Reduce the world to such a simple equation and discovering what was right and what was wrong became a piece of cake.
Over twenty years they had built upon a foundation fashioned from cheap convictions, and had succeeded in creating an Imperial Court even more brittle than King Fu's.
"We really were incompetent."
They had never understood what in the world a "kingdom" actually was. They didn't have the knowledge or direction required to rule one, while all the time believing they did. They thought that criticizing King Fu had somehow endowed them with the ability to run the government better than he had.
Shuka lay sprawled on the floor, her hand pressed against her chest. She heard light footsteps approaching. She sat up to see an ashen-faced Shinshi rushing into the hall.
"Shuka—Seiki— They say Shishou has passed away—"
Shuka nodded. "The song of the White Pheasant was heard. He left a last testament to accompany his abdication. Nothing can be gained by finding fault with others."
The stark surprise showed on Shinshi's face. She hung her head and buried her face in her hands. "So he amended his ways," she groaned. "A fine boy. Yes, a fine boy."
From the look on her face and the tone of her voice, it was clear that she had seen through everything from the beginning. She had taught Seiki that criticism was not the same as reform. She had realized the magnitude of Shishou's errors all along. That was why she hadn't supported Kouto in the first place.
Shuka said to her, "You knew that we lacked the qualifications to run the Imperial Court. Since it was so easy to criticize King Fu, we assumed we knew everything he didn't. Parading our foolishness about must have been a constant irritation to you."
Shinshi knelt down next to Shuka. "Oh, I wouldn't go that far."
"But—" said Shuka, choking down the cry of grief rising in her throat. Her own shameful state was infuriating. Being proven so incompetent was bad enough. Realizing how blind she had been to her own abilities made it all the worse.
"Tormenting yourself so will profit you little, Shuka. Do you understand now what you should have done then?"
"We shouldn't have had the Imperial Court entrusted to us. It should have been given to somebody qualified."
"And who would that be? Doesn't a kingdom with an empty throne still need a ruler and ministers and officials? And the faster they are installed the better?"
"That is—"
Shinshi clasped Shuka's hand. "Criticizing yourself is ultimately as productive as criticizing others. Remember Shishou's parting words. Salting the earth only produces ground where nothing else will grow."
"But—" Shuka's composure dissolved into tears. The extent of her own shortcomings was painful. The extent of her own ignorance was worse. She didn't know what to do with herself, or how to apologize to the people.
"I was a member of the Imperial Court as well. And I was as out to sea and the rest of you. I didn't have the slightest idea what to do about taxes or the organization of the bureaucracy. But even knowing that I knew nothing about government, I accepted the post of Taifu. But no matter the king, won't that always be the case at the beginning of a dynasty?"
Shuka lifted her head and blinked.
"I've heard that the Royal Sou was once an innkeeper in the provinces. Do you think he had any idea about what running a government entailed? I don't think any of us need to be ashamed of our ignorance. What we should be ashamed off—what we should regret—was only that we did not hold fast to our convictions."
"We—"
"But weren't you haunted by doubts? That you really didn't know what you were doing? That you were making a mistake? If so, you can correct that. As did Shishou."
"Shinshi-sama—"
"Shishou was the king. He had only two means of correcting his errors: reflect on his inadequacies and ignorance and correct his ways, or decide that he was not qualified for the job and step down. Shishou chose the latter. My personal feelings tell me that it would have been better if he could have reformed his ways instead. But that he chose the latter also tells me that he still had it in him to remain true to the Way. He knew he would never have allowed a king like himself to remain on the throne."
"Because he lacked the ability—?"
"Because he raised his sword against his father and brother."
Shuka nodded. She groaned to herself and covered her face with her hands. "You knew?"
"The situation became clear after I gave it a bit of thought. As well as who had pushed Shishou in that direction."
Shuka caught her breath, flashing Shinshi a look. Shinshi said, "I'm sure he felt driven into a corner, but what Eishuku did is unforgiveable. I feel for him as a mother and blame myself for not bringing it to a stop before it got this far."
"Shinshi-sama—"
"And so we can only pray that he finds it in himself to do the right thing, that henceforth and forever he will not add to the weight of his sins and shame, nor will ever again deviate from the straight and narrow to which he clung so hard."
Grasping the meaning of Shinshi's words, Shuka let out an anguished scream. "No! He wouldn't!"
Eishuku had left the Imperial Court and had headed due south. By himself. Shuka scrambled to her feet, but Shinshi seized her by the arm. "Get a hold of yourself. Don't lose sight of the people who truly deserve your sympathy. The fate of the people still rest upon our shoulders. The people who have just lost their king."
Tears welled up in Shinshi's eyes. But her aura of resoluteness was even stronger. "Shishou left Sai with its Taiho. The throne will not remain empty for long. At the very end, Shishou did not forget the burden he carried. If we pity Shishou, then we can't allow ourselves to forget that. Grieve for Shishou and grieve for Eishuku. But we now bear the weight of their sins and must atone on their behalf."
Shinshi turned to Seiki. "And you, Seiki. You can no longer be content to serve as Shuka's valet, dodging all other duties and responsibilities. The time for such selfishness is over."
"Yes," Seiki replied meekly, with a curt bow. "Your wish is my command, Kouko."
Shinshi had been the mother in law to this "whirlwind king," as well as his teacher and biggest influence. Her bearing and golden countenance resembled that of a kirin, and so was referred to by a certain contingent in the Imperial Court as Kouko, "the golden mother-in-law."
Shinshi answered with a firm nod. She looked at Shuka and then as if the strength had gone out of her legs, suddenly clung to her and began to weep. Shuka caught her to keep her from falling down. Grasping the collar of Shinshi's robes, closing her ears against her cries, she heard hurried steps approaching.
"Shuka-sama, Shinshi-sama!" the Shousai cried out.
They didn't have to ask what he was coming to tell them. It would surely be news of another death. Shuka believed in her husband.
Seiki silently got to his feet and quickly left the hall, closing the doors behind him.
Kizan
he city spread out from the banks of a brimming blue lake. The mirror-like surface of the water gleamed with reflections of the white stone facades, and rising up behind them, the soaring grey peaks of the Ryou'un Mountain.
As soon as they surmounted the last of the mountain passes, travelers climbing the roads leading to the city were presented with the sight—the mountains surrounded by broad, green fields, the sparkling lake, the peaks jutting through the clouds, and at the white city at the mountain's base.
"What a view!"
The man wiped the sweat from his brow and turned to a fellow traveler, who had stopped beside him. "Shisou certainly is a beautiful city!"
They paused at the top of the pass on a small stone outcropping overlooking the scene. The man's excited proclamation prompted an amused look from the other traveler.
Noting that he'd made himself the center of attention, the man flashed a crooked grin. "You've been walking ahead of me the whole way. Despite such a splendid kijuu, dutifully hiking up this mountain road seemed a strange exercise. But it certainly was the right decision."
"Indeed," answered the traveler with a bright smile. He petted the tiger-like beast. He looked to be in his early twenties. And befitting the valuable kijuu accompanying him, he was finely attired.
"Speaking of which, are you a citizen of Shisou?"
"No."
The man nodded and again blotted his forehead. The climb had left him lightheaded and the sweat beading up like tiny pearls. Though the sunlight pouring down was as clear and strong as the early summer might bring, a refreshing wind blew through the pass.
He loosened the collar of his tunic to direct the cool breeze through his clothing. After taking a deep breath, he again remarked on what a fine place this was, and began his descent.
The traveler with the kijuu watched him depart. He again took in the view from the ridge. Then he too picked up the reins and started down the road. The white city in the distance was the capital of the Kingdom of Ryuu. At the top of the white mountain was the home of the Royal Ryuu, Fun'ka Palace. It looked from this vantage like a distant forest shrouded in the clouds.
The path lazily wound down the mountain and cut across the green fields. Hamlets dotted the fields. They eventually arrived at the white barrier wall. Inside the barrier wall were the white streets of the city. The city itself seemed to have been fashioned entirely from a quarry of gray-tinged white stone.
There were few forests in the vicinity of Shisou. And rather than carting lumber great distances, carving away at the Ryou'un Mountain—that looked like it was holding up the heavens—was a much shorter cut. Boring into its flanks, carving notches in its sides, the white city seemed an extension of the mountain itself. The unique black timbers that held up the roofs wood came from the central region of Ryuu. The tiles as well were dark as mahogany.
It was a handsome, black and white city. The city's citizens trod the white cobblestones dressed in their brilliant and variegated colors.
The traveler passed through the Horse Gate and entered the city. He paused to observe the hustle and bustle of traffic before the gate. The people passing back and forth seemed to be walking with light steps, and were generally in a pleasant mood. Like they hadn't a worry in the world.
He drew his brows together. "I don't like this."
"What's that?"
The sudden voice behind him caused him to spin around. He blinked with recognition and smiled broadly.
"Meeting you here, of all places."
"Exactly the kind of place I'd expect to meet you. Long time, no see, Rikou."
Rikou smiled despite himself. It definitely had been a long time since they had last met. A good thirty years. "I don't believe it, Fuukan. Wasting your time just loitering about."
"Same as you."
"How long have you been here?"
"Only two days," Fuukan answered. He pointed west. "I've got a room in an inn down the street. The food's terrible but they've got decent stables."
"Well then, lead the way."
With a rare kijuu in tow, choosing the right inn was a necessity, and finding one with stables and good security could take a fair amount of time. Rikou was grateful that Fuukan had picked him out in the crowd.
How had they first run into each other? It was an old story by now. He couldn't even be sure of where it was. He couldn't remember the exact details of what had led them to cross paths or part ways. At first, he'd probably thought him a strange chap, and doubted they'd ever meet again.
But time had passed and they'd met again in a different kingdom. It became clear there was no way he could be some sort of self-styled vagabond. Sixty years had passed in the meantime. The average person would have died or would have aged past recognition.
Since then, they'd met here and there. The traveler gained a sense about who he was, though without inquiring too deeply. He could figure it out without getting into a cross-examination—a man who like Rikou had spent a very long time on the road.
The place they always seemed to meet was that kind of place. Like the capital of a kingdom beginning to show its age. Rikou had heard rumors that things were getting chancy in Ryuu. The current dynasty was going on a hundred and twenty years. It was starting to falter. He'd come to check it out in person, and here they'd met again.
"So what exactly don't you like about the place?" asked Fuukan over his shoulder, a step ahead of him.
"The way people appear in this city."
The kingdom was heading downhill but its citizens were unperturbed. Long experience had taught Rikou that this was the surest proof of an impending disaster.
People always liked to laugh about how their kingdom was headed for wrack and ruin. While expressing some sense of unease, they'd badmouth the king and the government with smiles on their faces. When things got really dire, it was all gloom and doom.
Yet when society teetered right on the edge of collapse, they'd grow restless and strangely optimistic. In the blink of an eye, they'd throw themselves into empty pleasures, uprooted and swept along by their emotions. At some point, this diseased optimism would shatter and the kingdom would collapse in one fell swoop.
The facts on the ground were difficult for other kingdoms to judge from afar. It was clear when law and order completely broke down in a kingdom. But at the beginning of the breakdown, as the strains and distortions compounded beneath the surface, they were not so apparent to outside eyes.
But they were to the people living there. And what they couldn't see they could sense. Taking a personal look at the citizenry, Rikou had learned, told him a lot about the condition of the kingdom. Rumors of precarious times had leaked to other kingdoms, but the citizens of the capital were in a good mood. An omen of danger ahead.
"The time for reform is when the people are down in the dumps," Rikou said with a sigh.
Fuukan answered under his breath, "They're past that stage. There's no stopping it no matter what they do. Ah, here we are."
He indicated an inn. At first glance, it seemed a rather ostentatious place. The white stone walls carved with countless, brightly-colored base relief ornamentation. Even though the time was barely past noon, the sound of intoxicated merriment could be heard echoing over the surrounding walls.
Rikou rented a room and arranged his personal belongings.
"Is Ryuu really in such dire straits?" Fuukan inquired behind him. Apparently he had nothing better to do. He opened the window. The lively sounds of the throngs flowed in.
"Hard to tell. There are no reports of the people being oppressed. No rumors of the Imperial Court falling into extravagance and immorality. But it seems the wheels are coming off in the provinces. The further away from the capital, the worse off everybody is."
"That's it?"
"For the time being," Rikou muttered, throwing himself into the nearest chair. That was indeed what it came down to.
On the surface, nothing was wrong. But the foundations were full of fissures. Hence the sense of unease. That sense of unease translated into rumors filled with uncertainty. The outsider would not see the source of the anxiety. That was why, when the downfall came, it would seem to come all at once and out of nowhere.
"A flash in the pan," Rikou said to himself.
Fuukan sat down on the divan and stretching out his legs. "Just the kind of thing one would expect a man of Sou to say. He counts a hundred and twenty years as a mere flash in the pan."
"Yeah, I guess so," Rikou laughed.
Rikou hailed from the Kingdom of Sou i
n the southern reaches of the world. The Royal Sou had reigned now for six hundred years. In eighty more years, the Sou Dynasty would become the longest in history, the longest of all the Twelve Kingdoms. The northeast Kingdom of En was only a century behind.
"One way or another, I got the impression Ryuu could keep it together longer."
"What's that?"
Illustration
The name of the Royal Ryuu was Jo Rohou. Rikou didn't know the fine details of how he'd been chosen to be king. Sou and Ryuu were at opposite ends of the earth. News from Ryuu came to Sou only in drips and drabs.
Neither did visiting the kingdom in person necessarily make him privy to the inner workings of the Imperial Palace. In many kingdoms, the ruler's given name wasn't even disclosed. Rikou only knew because he circulated at the proper levels of society to know such things.
It wasn't because Rohou had worked in the upper echelons of the Imperial government. Nor had he traveled on the Shouzan, to Mt. Houzan in the center of the universe for an audience with the kirin. Nor had he been plucked from the farming or merchant classes.
His ascension simply hadn't been the kind of dramatic affair people made a big fuss about.
Twenty years had passed between the end of the previous dynasty and Rohou's coronation. Ryuuki had taken his time choosing the new king. Usually after the previous kirin had died, the new fruit appeared at once, and within the year the kirin was born.
Several years would pass before the kirin could hear the Word of Heaven and chose a new king. But the sooner the better, and the new ruler would be enthroned within that span of time.
While there wasn't necessarily any connection between the years leading up to a king's coronation and the competence of the king, Rohou's past was vague at best, and the impression he made was mostly that of not making much of an impression.
