v7c25: Homecoming

The sight of Pale Moon Lake City on the horizon filled the Lord Magistrate’s gut with complicated emotions. It churned unpleasantly in time with the gentle rocking of the carriage he sat within.

It had been near thirty years since he had last seen the city of his birth—it looked less changed than he thought it would. While the outer boroughs had some differences, the main skyline hadn’t changed at all. The Palace still dominated. The governmental buildings rose tall. The manors of the nobles took up the heart of the city.

His father had been employed by the city as a record keeper for the orchards of the main Imperial Palace. It paid fairly well; well enough that his father had been able to afford a home on Northwind Lane, which his mother kept, and supplemented their income with her own weaving.

They were not affluent, but neither had they been particularly poor, though in his youth the Lord Magistrate had made friends with both kinds of people. He had seen the great vaulted palaces, and the beautiful gardens and orchards of the Provincial Governmental buildings, and had looked upon them with awe—at least until he had to leave.

His father had accidentally run afoul of a lesser noble—his father had read a label wrong, and delivered the incorrect shipment to the noble’s wife. A small mistake in the grand scheme of things. The noble hadn’t even been that upset about the outcome, for the characters were relatively similar, but his words, “Do not let this happen again” had sealed his father’s employment. The Palace took no chances, and a minor orchard record keeper was not something that they had interest in having around.

Without that income, they had to move out of the city, and for a brief while, they were poor, until his father found work again in Riverbend, a large town perhaps three hours west of Pale Moon Lake, along the shipping lanes to the Grass Sea.

That was the day the Lord Magistrate found himself a goal—to never mistake the characters that had hurt his father.

His father at first thought it amusing. Then, as his son swiftly memorized first a hundred, then a thousand characters, the amusement became pride.

Both his mother and father began hiring tutors for him; and when he could work, he helped his father in the orchards, so he too could contribute toward his own steadily rising expenses.

First a tutor, and then, later, the First Archivist of Riverbend taught him, for he absorbed every lesson they gave him. He worked, diligently, amazed by the things the numbers and characters could do.

All the while the older man had looked on…until he had declared that the boy was skilled enough to take on the civil servant exams. That no mere orchard would be his fate. He would be a head scribe—or maybe even a magistrate.

The young boy he had been had latched onto those words. He lived for the praise. The flames of ambition had filled his soul, and he set his sights on the horizon.

His parents sold nearly everything they owned, so they could send their son back to Pale Moon Lake. They said to repay them when he was a powerful civil servant.

A filial son was he, and so he took those words to heart.

He arrived back in the city of his birth, and immediately set about proving his worth. He studied until his head hurt. Unlike some of the other commoners who had egos and chips on their shoulders, and who detested the nobles’ sons who “had it easy”—he schmoozed with any and everyone.

He could joke in the upper-class dialect he remembered from his time in the Palace. He could commiserate with the lowborn.

People started looking to him for leadership. It was a heady feeling. His grades were the best in centuries. All of the teachers took notice, and there were whispers that after this, he would head a city—or even be forwarded to the Imperial Capital for further training, such was his skill.

It was not all good things. His father perished of illness. His mother had made him swear not to return, to complete his schooling, or she would kill him herself.

It had torn out his heart, but he had stayed, and achieved a score never before seen in the province.

He even caught the eye of the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. Lady Wu Zei Qi had been so stunning that she had eclipsed even the moon; and he had been charming enough that the icy fairy that had rejected all others found pleasure in his company… even if they did have to keep it a secret.

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Once he was a Lord Magistrate, however, his blood would matter less. It was a position even the Wus could respect.

That was, of course, when it all came tumbling down.

He and his lady had been walking that day, and Zei Qi had been unusually somber, so he had done everything to make her smile and laugh—and he had succeeded. He still remembered her, one hand on her stomach, a fan over her lower face as she tried to control herself.

And then the explosion of noise and Qi that sent her flying to the side and crumpling to the ground, seizing and shaking.

He had been so terrified he had taken her directly to the Wus—where he found out the reason for her sombre nature.

She had been chosen by the Master of the Provincial Treasury to be his wife. A grand bargaining chip, for the Wu’s power.

Her erstwhile betrothed had visited after her injury. Just once. His eyes had found Lady Wu, shaking and in the worst pain—and the man had said, “I will take the other daughter.”

But in the end, her brokenness was the only thing that let them be together. He was the only man willing to marry their “worthless” daughter.