Book of The Dead

As every citizen of the empire knew, the Palace of Ascension was the most prized, most desired place to live. A literal castle in the sky, it housed the Emperor and those of the most pure blood, their servants, who themselves were minor nobility, the high-priesthood, including the Chosen of the Gods, and the top administrators of every department. Every lever of power, all of the most influential members of the final civilisation of the realm could be found there, and Merigold Herimar, distant descendant of Hamar, God of travel, invention and music, knew she would never be permitted to live there.

Her blood was simply not pure enough. It was barely pure enough to call her a noble at all!

Second after the great palace in the sky was the large complex built around the enormous, hemisphere-shaped depression in the ground that housed the array keeping it aloft. Filled with large administrative buildings, luxurious gardens that sparked with light and wonder, trickling streams and babbling brooks that glowed with ethereal light, and many, many smaller palaces for the lesser nobility, this collection of households and offices had become collectively known as the Cloud Palace.

On the way to her office, Merigold’s attention was caught by something drifting past her head. Formed from cobwebs of light, it took her a moment to identify it as some sort of fish, perhaps a dragonlyre fish from the east? The way it moved, darting this way and that, never repeating its movements in the time she watched, spoke to the complexity and artistry that had gone into the creation of the array that projected it. She watched, enchanted, as sharp fin movements sent the fish darting and turning this way and that, as if it swam through real water rather than drifting through naught but air.

Almost, she was tempted to reach out and touch it, but she knew from experience there was nothing there, just strands of light captured and held by the most delicate of magicks.

Soft laughter from nearby brought her out of her trance, and Merigold turned to see a group of courtiers, male and female, laughing behind their sleeves, shooting mirthful glances in her direction. She felt her face flush and turned to hurry away, leaving the dancing fish behind.

It’s not my fault, she thought to herself vengefully, I didn’t ask to come here!

No, it was the Lady Lofis, a member of the highest order of nobility who had brought her here, so far above her station.

Well, to be completely accurate, it had been by the Emperor’s word that she had been promoted to this post, not that she was ever going to tell anyone. When she’d told her mother and father what had happened, she’d left that detail out. Merely mentioning the Lady Lofis had been enough to cause her dear mother to whiten and grow faint. If she knew her poor daughter had drawn the eye of the Emperor himself… she would faint dead away.

Head down, she walked quickly through the floating paths, paying no mind to the illusory scenery that danced around her as she made her way to her office.

Tucked into a neat corner, the building itself wasn’t all that remarkable. Two stories, a neat private garden, the stone and wood exterior carved and illuminated with exquisite perfection, just like every other building in the Palace, it was spacious and organised on the inside, clearly designed for administrative work. Apparently, it had lain unoccupied for more than a dozen years when her new special ministry had been installed. Merigold had expected to find the place a mess, only to discover that every building had a member of the lesser blood, or indeed a family, appointed to tend to its maintenance and care. When she’d arrived, the place had been spotless, a middle-aged man named Petyr greeting her with a low bow when she stepped inside.

No, what set her office apart was not the building itself, but rather its location. Two vast compounds adjoined it, one on the west side, the other directly across the road. The Military administration building, and the Economic administration building.

She reached for the handle on the gleaming, polished door, only for it to turn before she could grasp it, the wood panels swinging inward to reveal a smiling, robed figure.

“Good morning, Lady Herimar,” Petyr greeted her, his voice soft and expression gentle as ever. “Welcome.”

“Oh!” she gasped, surprised at first, then sighed. “Please don’t call me that, Petyr. Your blood is just as pure as mine.”

“Rank is rank, my lady,” he chided her.

With brown eyes and a well-trimmed beard just starting to show hints of grey around the edges, Petyr reminded Merigold of a younger version of her grandfather, a quiet man quite taken with gardening and bee-keeping. Indeed, Petyr and his family were of the eighth rank, not normally permitted within the Cloud Palace, but a meritorious deed by an ancestor several hundred years ago had given them a permanent post as housekeepers for this particular building. Petyr and his wife were permitted to live in a small building in the courtyard, so long as they did their duty to the Emperor and kept the place spotless.

Only her recent promotion put her above him in rank, but the man was scrupulous with protocol, regardless of what she said.

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

“Are Esmer and Dolan here yet?” she asked, stepping inside.

“Mistress Crastoff and Master MacRaith await you in the library.”

Trying not to wince, Merigold nodded and hurried on her way, pulling the shoulder strap of her satchel over her head as she went, the pages and scrolls inside bulging out from beneath the leather top.

At least the library was on the ground floor.. She bustled inside and found her two staff members hard at work… sort of. Esmer Lanan sat at the wooden table, her sharp eyes studiously examining a document. At first glance, Merigold was pleased, but on the second, she realised it was a transferral request back to the Military Administration.

Dolan MacRaith, well built, dashing in his own way with dark black hair and well-trimmed moustache, appeared to be deep in thought, pondering a grave matter, except he was simply gazing out the window, half asleep.

Honestly, why did they show up so early if they weren’t going to work?

She knew why. Neither of the two nobles knew exactly who had created this new ‘special ministry’ or why, and neither knew why a noble holding a rank twice below their own had been put in charge, but they knew well enough to at least appear as if they were taking the job seriously.

A large part of the problem was that the Emperor had never bothered to set in stone exactly what this special ministry was supposed to do. What were its goals and objectives? Where did it stand in the incessant pecking order of the Cloud Palace? Just how much authority did she have?

Merigold had wanted to get to work straight away; throwing herself into the task had been a way for her to cope with the stress of the situation. She’d read everything she could get her hands on that might relate to the rebellion and sent out hundreds, if not thousands, of document requests to relevant ministries, seeking out more records.

Except, those requests were all in limbo, locked up with one administration official or another who wasn’t sure if they should prioritise the request, or dismiss it out of hand, and so did nothing instead.

Esmer and Dolan didn’t know exactly what they were supposed to do, or how important it was in the eyes of the Emperor, and so did nothing. It was infuriating, but both were nobility of the fifth rank. Unlike her, they belonged here.

When the two noticed she had arrived, they stood from the table and bowed with perfect manners, greeting her with a ‘good morning, Lady Herimar,” before sitting down again and resuming their ‘work.’

Grumbling to herself, Merigold did her best to ignore them. Fumbling at the latch on her satchel, she finally gave up, ripped it open and dumped the hundreds of sheets of paper onto the table, creating a mess.

“Do you mind?” Esmer muttered as she shifted her transfer application away.

Dolan didn’t respond at all, his attention seemingly seized by a passing cloud.

Again, Merigold didn’t bother speaking to them and set about imposing some order on the tangle of paper she’d created. She’d found an interesting thread in her research last night and had taken all of this home to continue reading at her residence. She pawed through the records of grain shipments, core harvesting rates and Slayer activity statements until she began to put the pieces back together.

The town of Cragwhistle was known to have been a centre of activity for the rebels in the Western Province, but the paper trail coming out of there had turned suspicious well before the rebellion had begun to act openly. It didn’t really make sense. Such a young rift, with barely any kin emerging from it, wouldn’t even normally have a Magister in post, let alone one as experienced as Poranus.

That alone wasn’t enough to be suspicious, but the documentation Poranus had been providing since arriving at his post… didn’t make much sense.

Certainly, the numbers were unusual. More than that, they didn’t match with the reports of what had been received in shipments from Cragwhistle.

It had been almost impossible to track down such specific records from the Western Province, and if she hadn’t had access to them in her previous post, she likely would never have been allowed. There was so much more, especially from the final days before the rebellion really ignited, that she wasn’t allowed to see, even now. She was able to draw out small threads from what she had, but she needed so much more!

Already deep into the tables of figures and neatly stated summaries, Merigold almost didn’t notice when Petyr stepped into the library. She paid him no mind at all, assuming he was dusting or some such, right up until he placed a trembling hand on her shoulder and shook her gently.

She finally turned and blinked up at him owlishly.

“Petyr?” she asked, surprised he would do such a thing. Seeing his face was pale and his normally placid expression had grown tight, she felt a knot begin to form in her stomach.

“Is everything alright?” she asked him.

“There is someone here to see you, Lady Herimar,” he said, with a vestige of his usual quiet dignity.

“Oh?” she said, blinking again. “Who is it?”

“I believe it is… ah… Lady Lofis.”

Merigold’s eyes widened. The Lady Lofis? Here? That was impossible.

From their seats on the table, Esmer and Dolan slowly turned their heads towards the housekeeper, faces paling. There was a heavy pause in the room for a few beats, then everyone was on their feet, scrambling for the door.

“Lady Lofis!” Merigold exclaimed, probably too loud, when she arrived outside the door to find a hovering carriage, a dozen ornately uniformed guards, two handmaidens, a heavily robed and concealed high noble along with her speaker waiting outside in the sun. “We did not expect you to come today. I am so sorry to keep you waiting. Please come inside.”

Beneath her veils, it was impossible to recognise the Lady, but Merigold didn’t doubt for a second that it was her. Impersonating a noble of her lineage was enough to earn the most painful death for every living member of a noble house. She didn’t even speak, letting her voice speak for her.

The man did his best not to sneer at this appalling reception, bowing slightly as he entered a step behind his mistress.

“The Lady Lofis has been asked to ensure the special administration is setting off with the right foot forward. We apologise that you were not informed ahead of time. The Lady is aware that this visit is… highly unusual.”

Highly unusual didn’t describe it! Not even the edges!

There were very few who could ask the Lady to do anything, which meant… she was here under the orders of the Emperor himself!

Merigold resisted the urge of her eyeballs to roll up in her head and clung to her consciousness with a white-knuckled determination.

Why me?! She wailed internally as she scrambled to make the Lady comfortable.

Just what could this mean? She wasn’t sure she wanted to know.