The Dragon and the Emperor

There weren’t always dragons in the valley. The dragons that once fed on mountain goats, gliding in and plucking them from the crags in the mountains above, soon learned that battlefields made for better feeding grounds.

The valley itself was of little significance to human and dragon alike, until the southern provincial lords lost faith in their emperor and asserted their independence by withholding tribute. The act ultimately led to civil war. If the insurgents could hold the valley, they would cut off support from the Empire to its loyalists and occupying imperial forces in the southeastern provinces. Thus the valley became a highly strategic position, contested for over twenty years.

None of this was good for the tribal people who made their home in the mountains. For thousands of years the valley was their hunting ground, but more importantly they had learned to coexist with the dragons in the high peaks. Now, the dragon population was exploding and the beasts had developed a taste for human flesh.

If peace wasn’t found and the Empire wasn’t made whole, the native people would not survive. The irony was not lost to them, as they had suffered oppression and genocide in the Empire's name for generations. Swallowing their pride, the elders assigned the task of mediation to two important tribe members. Zara, the chieftain’s daughter, was to parlay with the emperor. Rasha, the tribe’s shaman, was to make an appeal to Lord Winston who led the rebellion.

The imperialists claim that the majestic bloodline is divine in nature, that an emperor is descended from the gods and is a god himself. The current emperor was just coming of age, and Zara’s father had made it a point to inform her that he was not yet married. Though she was not particularly inclined toward marriage and not currently without a lover, she was prepared to do whatever it took to secure the success of her mission.

Zara arrived at the imperial castle three days before her meeting with the Emperor. Her first moments in the city made it obvious to her that she stood out. From the tone of her skin to her thick, dark hair, and dark, almond-shaped eyes, there was no mistaking her heritage. Most here probably weren’t even aware her people existed. She adjusted her posture with pride, reminding herself that she was here publicly on behalf of her people.

Three days of being his imperial highness’ guest was long enough for the servants, attendants, and retainers of the castle to become accustomed to both her appearance and her foreign habits. She, however, was still not accustomed to theirs. She could not see the importance of tea, or why the world would stop every day because of it, nor could she grasp the ritual or etiquette surrounding it.

Thus, she was more than a little nervous to discover that her first meeting with the Emperor would be to share a tea ceremony. She was led into a room illuminated by sunlight diffused through paper walls, and it was empty but for a pillow on the floor.

“You are to kneel facing the East. The Holy Emperor will join you shortly. You have no need for that, I can take it for you.” The elderly attendant reached for her spear.

“This is a gift for your emperor.”

“He is the Emperor of all that is under Heaven, “ the old man corrected, “and forgive me but it is a weapon. The divine lineage must not be debased by tokens of violence and discord when he, himself, is uniquely at harmony with Heaven and Earth. I cannot allow it in his presence.” There was a hint of impatience in his voice.

“Yet the Empire has been torn by violence for the entirety of my descendance. I will receive her gift. Leave us.” The voice commanded from behind the Eastern wall. The retainer dropped to his knees and touched his head to the floor, then looked at Zara and wordlessly gestured to the pillow before standing and backing out of the room.

Zara kneeled on the pillow, touching her head to the floor with her hands outstretched before her, the spear held up in offering. The Eastern wall was picked up and carried away by servants, revealing the adolescent emperor sitting cross-legged on a dais. He gathered his blue and white silk robes about him and rose with ease and grace, stepping off the dais to bend at the waist and pick up the spear.

“It is beautiful. As you’ve been told, These hands have never held a weapon. Not in twenty thousand years. It feels... somehow natural.”

Zara kept her forehead to the floor, as she had been instructed. It was amusing to hear outrageous claims of immortality from an undeniably youthful voice.

“I will take my tea down here.” The Emperor declared as he sat himself on the floor opposite of Zara. Several servants became animated to accommodate his breaking convention. He turned his attention to Zara. “You may raise your head and face me.”

Zara lifted just her head at first, almost laughing as she saw how the large spear made his Highness appear child-like. She set her amusement aside as she shifted her position across from him, as etiquette demanded, kneeling upright with her bottom on her heels. The servants set the table between them with all the implements of the bizarre ritual. Zara suddenly felt nervous again.

The Emperor kept the spear across his lap, and continued to admire it. “Please, tell me about this weapon. Was it used in battle? Did it slay anyone?”

“Yes, Highness. Regrettably it was used to slay your own people, when the divine lineage pushed my tribe into the mountains.”

For a brief moment, the Emperor looked surprised that anyone would speak so pointedly at him, but he was quick to understand the gravity of the statement and the importance of the offering. His expression became soft and sympathetic. “That too, is regrettable. I will honor this gift, and never raise it against you or your people.”

“What is past we may set aside. There is a larger problem that we must face together.” Zara could see the Emperor disengage as she spoke.

“Let me pour you some tea. There is time for that conversation later. Right now we must enjoy this moment, and each other’s company.”

Zara scolded herself internally. The pace of diplomacy did not suit her. Still, as his Highness poured tea with deliberation and calm, she did not feel judged by him. He began discussing how the tea was grown and cured and she felt her head nod in approval. She heard herself ask tedious questions, but she was not fully present and remained preoccupied with her purpose.

The young emperor seemed to notice. “I see you are still learning the art of sharing tea. That is as it should be, nothing of Heaven and Earth is easily mastered. I wish you to be at ease Zara Stormwhisper, daughter of Chief Spearsinger. Please, speak freely. Let us set aside ceremony.”

He suddenly seemed older to Zara, and by contrast she now found herself feeling childlike. She blushed, embarrassed that she disrupted the tea ceremony and confused by the abrupt shift in dynamic. Her throat felt dry, unsoothed by the tea.

“I have come to petition you to heal your empire. We have sent an envoy to Lord Winston to beseech the same. Peace must be found.” As she spoke, she felt her confidence grow. Her voice did not betray her uncertainty or her embarrassment, which allowed her to set those feelings aside.

“Continue.” The young emperor now offered his total attention.

“You’ve surely heard that dragons scavenge the battlefields, feasting on corpses. There are more dragons now than there have been for thousands of years. The older ones grow bold and there are reports of attacks on living humans, including your soldiers.

"This has caused great disruption for my tribe. Both armies offer bounties on dragon heads, and our younger hunters have taken to harvesting them. This is a great sin to my people and we are in danger of losing our way.”

“So you come to me for help? The very symbol of the empire that has pushed your people into the remote corners of the world?”

“We offer our help to you,” Zara declared defiantly. She took a breath, and measured her next words more carefully. “The dragons in the valley are mostly wyrmlings. A few gliders among them. But it won’t be long until there are fire-breathers. Or worse, the Ancient One awakens. This would mean the end of the Empire, the end of my tribe, and the end of the provincial territories. Not one of us could live in its shadow”

“Ahh, the Ancient One. Your people believe our world rests upon his spine, do you not? That his breath creates the ebb and flow of the seasons. Your shamans speak to it in their dreams, or so they claim. Why can they not placate the titan?” The condescending child Zara expected had finally shown himself.

“They do not speak to it, they only listen.” Zara braced herself as she prepared to offer terms. “I am to offer myself as your guest. I am my father's only child and sole heir to the tribe. My presence here will guarantee our continued support toward peace.”

“Forgive me for not understanding, but the Empire is at war with itself. How does your presence here promote peace?”

“As I said, we also sent an envoy to Lord Winston. Our shaman will show him the great danger we all face if the fighting continues. If he does not come to see the value of peace, my father will choose my life over the shaman's.” Zara paused to make sure his highness understood the subtext.

The Emperor smiled. “I will need more than a mere hostage. You will marry me. A mutual heir would bind us, would it not?”

Zara’s heart raced and her face flushed in anger. She knew it would come down to this. Her tribe had no other leverage. “You would marry a tribal woman? What about the divine lineage?”

“I am the divine lineage. My heir will be of divine lineage no matter how human his mother is. You are a chieftain’s daughter. It is suitable.” He spoke as if it were already agreed upon.

For having accomplished her mission, Zara felt defeated.