Adaptation and Death

Several days after the parade, we departed Aelirynth, leaving behind a few newly-appointed administrators. Though each battalion was returning to its own homeland, we were all headed in the same direction initially: south, across the desert. Naturally, the Emperor rode near the front of the procession, and I rode close by his side.

As did Chika.

Things had been awkward between us since the emperor accepted her service. I had tried to explain all the problems she would face as a member of the council, but I only succeeded in making her angry.

“Life in the palace is different,” I had told her. “Those who weren’t raised within its walls struggle to understand its subtle rules. Many who have been serving the emperor for their entire lives will resent your sudden rise, and will use those rules to bring you down.”

“You were the one who told me that making allies went hand in hand with making enemies.”

“Obviously, you have to be smart about it. What good is befriending a single ally if the whole world turns against you for it? There were better options available to you, if only you had consulted me first.”

“Yes, I heard you wanted to make me your assistant. I thought you might see me as a friend, not an inferior.”

“It’s not about status. I had hoped to use my position to shield you from court intrigue while you acclimated to life in the palace. Besides, it would sidestep many problems. For example, the emperor has recently taken so many consorts that there is a shortage of female servants. You’ll have trouble managing without them.”

“I’ve done fine on my own so far. Besides, I don’t discriminate. If I really need servants, I’ll employ men.”

Thinking that she was joking, a chuckle escaped my lips. “What man would be content to take orders from a woman?” I immediately regretted it when I saw the scowl on her face.

“So that’s what this is about. You don’t think I can do it because I’m a woman.”

“You would make a wonderful advisor. I know that. The problem is that other people don’t. Attempting to convince them will be horrendously difficult, and your duties as an advisor will leave you little time for anything else.”

“That’s what I mean. You don’t think I can manage that. Women have a hard time in the workplace on Earth too, but I didn’t just decide this on a whim, nor did I expect it to be easy.”

“Chika, please, be reasonable.”

That was evidently the wrong thing to say. Turning away, Chika stomped off. It was the second time I had angered her, and though I would never admit it to her, I found even her scowl to be adorable. It reminded me of the way noble women would pout to get something they wanted, but Chika’s expressions were always genuine. She truly wore her heart on her sleeve.

There was something else I would never admit to her: What truly scared me was not the possibility that she might fail, but that she might succeed and snatch the position of chief advisor from me.

And so, we spent most of the journey back awkwardly refusing to speak with each other. That only changed when we reached the site of the vormarnok ambush. Late one afternoon, we crested a hill and found the desert littered with their skeletons. Most had been stripped bare, but the larger ones still had thick scales, not yet fully decomposed, hanging from them.

Excited by the novelty of it, the emperor ordered the army to set up camp nearby, then jumped from his carriage and ran off to get a closer look. I was quick to follow, but Chika stayed behind. After studying one up close, the emperor waved to Chika.

“Hey, witch, come take a look at your handiwork.”

Unable to refuse his order, Chika approached slowly, looking down at the ground as she walked. When she arrived next to the emperor, she knelt down and placed a tender hand atop the nearest skull. It was then that I noticed the arrowheads in the sand next to it. This had been the one she shot.

“Do you feel sympathy for it?” I asked, breaking the weeks of silence between us. “That one would have killed me if given the chance.”

“I don’t regret what I did. I had no other choice, but even so, I wish things had been different.”

The emperor snorted. “Worrying about what-ifs is a waste of time. Besides, the world’s better off without the pests.”

The two of them could not have been more different. Chika was short, hunched over, and subdued, while the emperor was tall, muscular, and eager to take on whatever life threw at him. And yet, what Chika said next made him seem insignificant.

“They may be pests to us, but they play an important role in nature. Though they occasionally eat vitafelars, they usually prefer plants not consumed by humans, right? But you know what else eats those plants? Lumirats, and any farmer can tell you that they’re a much greater pest than vormarnok. Because they compete for the same food, vormarnok kill lumirats, keeping their population in check. Without them, lumirats would grow so numerous that they would strip the vitafelar orchards bare.”

The emperor looked to me for confirmation, but I shrugged. I knew too little about both animals, so instead, the emperor prodded her for more information. “Even if that’s true, there aren’t any lumirats in the desert. What’s wrong about eradicating these lizards?”

“Nothing, which is why I did it. What worries me is why they were in the desert to begin with. There’s no food for them here.”

That question I had an answer for. “I received a report from our spies in Drakarnor recently. Apparently the Drakarnori have developed a method of driving off vormarnok. They don’t yet know how, but it apparently causes the vormarnok to stampede in fear.”

“We should warn them to stop,” Chika said. “Nature achieves balance over long periods of time. When humans disrupt that balance, they occasionally bring disaster upon themselves. Without the vormarnok, the Drakarnori may ruin their vitafelar harvest.”

The emperor and I exchanged another look. The Drakarnori military rivaled the Empire’s. A vitafelar shortage could easily lead to war. We would warn them, like Chika suggested, but they were unlikely to trust us. At the very least, Chika’s insight had given us time to prepare, and the emperor realized that.

“Hiring you is already paying off. Keep up the good work.” With that, he left us to wander amongst the skeletons.

Now that we were both in contemplative moods, I decided it was a good time to attempt to make up with Chika. “What you said just now about nature’s balance—”

“The palace has a similar balance, and I’m the one disrupting it,” she interrupted. “I know that’s what you were trying to tell me earlier, and I’m sorry for getting upset with you. It’s just that you’re the first person who’s ever stood up for me. Everyone else just tolerates me, and the thought that you might be the same… I didn’t handle it well.”

“I also handled things poorly.”

“Nature’s always changing though. We just don’t notice it because our lives are so short. Animals slowly migrate to new areas, and sometimes they survive, sometimes they don’t. I’m determined to thrive in the palace, no matter what I have to change—myself included.”

“But why? Nobody forced you to do this.”

“Because you were right. I could no longer survive on my own. After that rumor got around, at least two foreign governments put bounties on my head. A few days before the parade, a couple drunk adventurers tried to collect. Most people fear me too much to try it, but it was only a matter of time until someone competent got the drop on me. I figured working directly for the emperor would be the best way to get those bounties retracted.”

She was right about that. She had obviously thought it through, and given that I started the rumor, I was partly to blame, but even so…

“You can always come to me for advice. Two heads are better than one, and no one should have to deal with situations like that alone.”

“You’re right, so I’ll ask you now. Will you help me?”

We ended up scheming together for the rest of the journey. By the time we reached the capital, we were prepared to take on the entire court.