Pay Up or Fight, Chicken?
The splendor of the Imperial Palace. Any northern bumpkin seeing it would have quietly marveled in awe. Even Jamuchin or Dorgon had been stunned by its opulence. But the man standing stock-still in the palace now showed no surprise, no hint of fluster.
The Empire's chief eunuch waddled out, hauling his fat bulk. Roy de Wintergard wasn't in uniform. Jackson was dressed sharply, but Roy exuded the raw menace of an armed general. Roy stood at the center of this delegation. Jackson was just support.
If any other noble had received such envoys, they might have inwardly wondered what trouble had stirred in the North.
"The northern hicks are back."
"What's with that pig?"
Roy had no intention of bowing. Jackson followed suit, keeping his head held high. He drew a scroll from his robes. Proper etiquette would demand handing it to the chief eunuch, but Jackson simply held it aloft with both hands.
"Lately, that kingdom of exiles has been all talk."
"How could it not be?"
The chief eunuch stopped on the stairs, two steps from the emperor's throne. Roy couldn't stand the tedium. Or rather, he pretended not to. Legs crossed, arms folded over his waist.
Jackson, head rigid, waited for the eunuch to settle.
"Well, what is it..."
"Hey, pig. You the chief eunuch?"
"What did you just say?"
"I got no business with trash like you. Fetch someone proper."
Roy glanced around. A few guards, but nothing to worry about. Their spears and swords looked threatening enough, but he was prepared to take at least two down with him. Jackson, gauging the eunuch's position, chimed in to back Roy up.
"We're here on behalf of His Grace the Grand Duke. Since when does the chief eunuch greet such visitors?"
"Ha, even the Empire's chief eunuch is a rare sight."
"We're bearing His Grace's words. The only one above him here is His Imperial Majesty. Are you claiming to speak for him?"
"I inspect first, then His Majesty reviews. You ignorant fools."
Roy spat on the floor. A wet ptui as phlegm hit the carpet. The eunuch pointed accusingly, but Roy ignored him. Jackson stood firm, scroll held high.
"Then shouldn't the one fit to receive His Grace's words come down here?"
"The chief eunuch stands in for the emperor in his absence!"
"So His Majesty isn't in the palace right now?"
"That depends on how you behave."
There was good reason Jackson had been sent. He lacked flexibility. A stickler for protocol when it was right, but he'd speak his mind to the death against anything unjust. He couldn't abide wrongdoing and lit up at righteousness.
The eunuch quietly curled his hand in a circle. A few gold coins, and you'd see the emperor. Jackson spotted it, and so did Roy. Stroking his white beard, Roy burst into loud laughter. Jackson joined in.
The flustered one was the eunuch.
"Wh-what's so funny?"
"Hahaha! Who knew it'd be this hilarious. Damn, watching an idiot is pretty entertaining."
Roy's laughing face hardened instantly. The white beard twisted wildly. Veteran eyes iced with rage, brows furrowed deep. Jackson shifted tone in a flash. If Roy glared murderously, Jackson wore the look of someone fed up with classic rudeness.
"We're here with His Grace's words, and you think you're above him?!"
"You know it's insolence for the chief eunuch to vet a letter from His Grace?"
The eunuch began sweating, flustered. The guards hesitated—restrain them or stand by?
It was spot on. A letter from the North's Grand Duke, its border guardian, its supreme commander—only the emperor should see it.
"This won't do."
Roy strode toward the eunuch. His footsteps boomed up the stairs—he stomped hard enough to crack the marble. Grabbing the eunuch's nape, he dragged him down like a sack. The eunuch struggled, to no avail. Roy's iron grip crumpled his robes.
At the bottom, the eunuch wheezed raggedly.
"Mind your manners."
"Y-you mad bastards! Heh-heh—y-you scum."
"You stand in for His Majesty? That's not our concern—how dare you insult His Grace's proxies?"
"Seize them all! This is rebellion!"
Jackson eyed the guards inching forward, then lightly tapped Roy's back—their prearranged signal. Roy loomed over the sprawled eunuch, looking down in disdain. Jackson scanned the room and bellowed.
"Only one here outranks His Grace— who dares move?!"
Sheer presence crushed them. That was the Roy-Jackson combo in a nutshell. The eunuch surrendered first. He ordered a guard to fetch the imperial proxy seal. Roy kept glaring down till then. If the eunuch tried rising, Roy stepped closer, toppling him again.
A guard rushed back with the emperor's emblem. Jackson focused on it. Protocol had crumbled. Crystal clear.
"You have the seal now—let's deliver the message. Heh-heh—"
"You must show it to us first."
Sweating bullets, the eunuch flashed the emblem at Jackson. Jackson handed over the cherished scroll. They were ordered not to leave the chamber until a reply came. Roy too.
For over a dozen years, we have served the Empire loyally through every indignity, yet the current situation defies all understanding.
The recent friction with Crown Prince His Highness can be chalked up to my own moral failing, but the rumors swirling from the South show no courtesy, no regard.
I know nothing of southern customs, but the gossip among nobles and imperial officials strikes me as unjust. I can stomach the ill repute it brings me, but I cannot tolerate words that sow doubt in the Empire-North bond.
If these rumors flow not from the North but the South, then it's the South's problem, not ours. Consider: without the North's endless struggles, the South would have faced barbarian invasions long ago.
The Wintergard folk have died for it, deeming it loyalty. Even as rightful aid and provisions from the South dried up, the North bent over backward to understand your circumstances.
But now, this exceeds all reason, breeding dangerous discord. It's because proper exchange between North and South never happened—and the time to consider southern needs has long passed.
The North now demands what is due by imperial law. We have tallied every ounce of owed support funds and rations—refer to the attached ledger and remit accordingly.
"Wh-what is this?"
The scroll continued with a meticulously calculated ledger. Not huge, but crammed with tiny script listing every claim. Jackson knew the figures were inflated, but said nothing. He'd prepared counterarguments if scrutinized. No need now—the eunuch, daunted by the text, skimmed it carelessly.
"We go nowhere without a reply."
"Such matters..."
"Wasn't this predictable?"
Scanning the ledger, the eunuch clutched his head. At the end: the final sum. Nearly ten years' arrears, plus compound interest. More than the Empire's annual budget. The gold scraped from Bart family's veins to the last nugget.
"You expect this now?"
"Not your call. Surely those in the know get it?"
Jackson snorted. Roy smirked. A laugh only for those aware the ledger wasn't ironclad. But the ones who'd embezzled the North's due? None other than the imperial house and nobles.
"So you'll squat here?"
"Ha, come for money and slink away easy? Where's the fun in that?"
Here to collect the stolen dues.