DIVA: A Break from Tradition #1
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All on Wed Dec 23 07:10:18 2020
Having finally put the PRECOG tag to good use in the DiVerse, here is what was promised: an Imperial story, albeit a relatively short one. But important!
(It was also drafted at a highly accelerated pace, so if there are inconsistencies
- well, these things happen. It's all part of the plan, right? Eventually.)
========
A Break from Tradition: A DiVerse Alpha Chronicle
by Felix
Part 1 of 3
=====
In the grand and glorious Gray Empire - which is neither grand nor glorious, save to those who dwell upon its highest peak and shutter their eyes to the suffering of the people - many things are rooted in deep, deep tradition. And one does not break tradition, for the Empire is built upon it.
It is tradition, for example, to celebrate a birth in the imperial family with lavish parades and celebrations that go on for days, and to light up the night with bonfires that compete to be the tallest, fed by the possessions of the poor. It matters not that the imperial family never sees the celebrations, shut
within the palace as they are; it is /tradition/.
It is also tradition to avoid responsibility for failure by shifting it to those
not present or otherwise unable to defend themselves, 'to curse the wind and rain'; blaming one's subordinates, events beyond one's control, or 'rebels against the Empire'. Blaming rebels is a particularly long-standing tradition in most every corner and level of Imperial governance; never are any around to protest their innocence.
Most of all, perhaps, it is tradition to serve - to act - to live - unquestioningly. To question neither elders, nor superiors, nor any answer given. For to question is to show doubt, and to doubt is to show disrespect; and respect, like tradition, must always be upheld. This principle must never be questioned, either; it too is tradition, and tradition must never be questioned. For to question is to show doubt...
And so the wheel of tradition continues turning, grinding each successive generation into submission with its ever-growing weight.
So it was, and would have ever been, until She ascended to the throne.
===
In Her earliest years, the Empress-to-be was no different from any other child of the Imperial family. She was sheltered from the harshness of reality, offered a rich banquet of lies and clever omissions to fill Her head, and thoroughly indoctrinated as to Her place in the universe - and everyone else's, far below Her. As tradition dictated; and as it would have been, had not one of
Her teachers led Her down a different path.
The man himself remains nameless even now; but what is certain is his loyalty - not to the Empire, but to his God, upon whose will he acted.
===
The day everything changed, it was a cold morning, and so the teacher led the way in a thick, fur-lined robe of charcoal gray that obscured all but his weathered hands and stern, aquiline face. The Empress-to-be followed close behind, clad in a similarly hooded robe colored with the deep cerulean of royalty, Her own hands covered by soft white mittens. Rather than an irritant,
She found the morning chill bracing, heightening the subdued excitement of the unknown.
"What is today's lesson, teacher?" She had asked, when he had shown up at the door earlier than usual.
"A departure from the schedule," he had returned in a low whisper. "Dress warmly and come quickly, before a most unique learning opportunity slips away."
If the Empress-to-be had a weakness, it was Her voracious appetite for knowledge. So She had made no protest at the deviation, and simply followed Her
teacher's guidance - out of Her room, across the courtyard, and now up the long and winding steps wrapping around one of the taller towers clustered around the Imperial Family quarters, the wind starting to whistle as it picked up speed.
"Will we make it in time, teacher?" She called out, just loud enough to carry over the noise. Discretion had been one of Her first lessons, and one that remained close to heart.
"Let us pick up the pace, if you are able," the teacher returned over his shoulder after a moment, and the gap between them began to widen. Even more excited now, the Empress-to-be hastened Her own steps on the sturdy brightwood platforms, taking them two at a time - and even then was just barely able to keep up.
At last they reached the final steps and ascended to the platform encircling the
top of the tower; and after a moment spent catching Her breath, the Empress-to-be straightened up and gazed upon Her domain with wide and hungry eyes, hands curled tightly around the brightwood railing. It was one thing to be taught geography, another entirely to experience it firsthand. "Beautiful!"
She exclaimed in a breathless half-whisper. "The cartographers do it an injustice with their poor renditions. For this alone I am grateful, my teacher."
"I do not doubt it." His omission of formal address was a grave breach of etiquette, but also a measure She had insisted on - when they were alone, at least. "But we are not here merely to behold the sights. Know you what this tower holds?"
The Empress-to-be glanced down at the courtyard, marking the location of Her quarters, then back up and over Her shoulder. If the tallest spire was to Her left, then that would make this- "Ah! Is it not the Forbidden Treasury?"
"The Royal Treasury," the teacher corrected gently, gesturing toward one of the imposing doors and its clearly visible Imperial crest. "Forbidden to all else,
perhaps, but yours to possess by right of blood."
For a long moment, the Empress-to-be was silent. Then She looked Her teacher squarely in the eyes, with the piercing gaze he knew all too well. "Does not tradition dictate that only a sitting Emperor or Empress may access the Treasury?"
"You are well-informed. But tell me: how many of them have done so?"
"... only the very first Emperor, if I have recalled my lessons rightly."
The teacher smiled one of his rare smiles. "Indeed, that is what your lessons say: that of fifty-six rulers, only a single one opened the Treasury, in order to store the riches of his conquests. So your lessons say." He raised a single
finger. "Another question. Do you believe all your lessons to be completely true?"
There was another pause, this one longer and more uncomfortable than the first. The teacher could see the turmoil in his student's eyes, as honesty warred with tradition - but the answer finally came, accompanied by a grimace. "I cannot...
fully... agree with that statement." Here, away from everyone else, the Empress-to-be could speak with candor; yet still She guarded Her words, the lessons having been driven deep.
The teacher dropped to one knee and looked directly at the Empress-to-be. "Neither can I," he whispered, with a mysterious sparkle in his eyes - an expression She had never seen before, completely open and unguarded. "I know too much, you see. More than I have taught you, more than I am allowed to say.
Though I have already said far, far too much, and will doubtless say more - if you wish." He remained kneeling. "One last question to determine whether we continue with today's lesson." This time the teacher paused, taking a quiet breath. "I can only ask once. Do you trust me?"
The Empress-to-be's eyes narrowed. The gears in Her mind spun rapidly, recalling everything She knew about Her teacher, past experiences and impressions and conversations, and comparing it with the other people She had met - stewards, chambermaids, councilors, cooks, guardians - and after a long moment She closed Her eyes.
"I do," She whispered, and opened Her eyes again. "Let us continue."
With a firm nod, the teacher stood, tossing back the hood of his robe to expose his jet-black hair, styled in a long braid. With a single tug it came loose, and he presented a curious-looking hairpin to the Empress-to-be: a birdlike design in silver, set with deep crimson jewels, glistening in the center of his palm. "Does this please you?"
The Empress-to-be blinked. "It is... well-made," She returned, "and I can appreciate its beauty - but at the same time I would not deprive you of it."
The teacher chuckled softly. "So I see. Now - /look again/."
She looked back down at his hand, and stifled a gasp - for where the hairpin had
been, there now rested a gleaming crimson key, looking as though it had been cut
from a single massive crystal.
"Things are not always as they appear," the teacher intoned quietly. "You already know this is true, surrounded by deceit as you are every day you live within the castle walls. It is my hope..." He swallowed, suddenly tense. "My
hope that today's lesson will provide you the... ability... to see through appearances, and discern the truth of any matter you behold."
"This is a dangerous undertaking, then."
"For both of us," the teacher confirmed, turning and sliding the key into the metal lock in the center of the door with a soft whisper. "I am fully prepared
for this to be the final lesson I teach you, and to be exiled - or more likely, put to death - for my crimes against the royal family."
The Empress-to-be felt Her heart racing. "Crimes? You have done nothing of the
sort!"
"I have already told you your lessons are untrue," he returned with a slight smile, "and that alone - in many eyes - is bad enough. And now we are about to
break tradition even further, and enter the treasury. Or at least /I/ am. You
might happen to /follow/ me, but I would never /lead/ you inside."
"... So I see."
"Yes, I can tell. Words are a weapon; wield them well. Now - you must remember
this, milady," he continued, sharply, causing Her ears to perk at the unexpected
address. "I have only a hairpin with me. /I cannot provide you a key./"
As the Empress-to-be pondered Her teacher's phrasing and emphasis, She heard the
sound of the lock turning, and a *clack* - and then the shrill protest of age-old hinges as the treasury door began to open.
Without another word, the teacher vanished into the darkness; and the Empress-to-be followed.
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