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Sekah
Star
- Joined
- Jul 25, 2021
- Location
- Your mom's house.
Before he left, he knelt before his aged mother and his sister, and thanked them. Despite being Bannermen, and noble in the eyes of heaven and the Earth, they were disastrously poor, the house in ruins, far too impecunious to even find a husband for Leyla, though she always insisted she didn't mind that. She was out late every night drinking and training in the art of war, coming home smelling like horse leather and baijiu. She wanted to have fun and frequent the illicit peasant brothels, tumble some peasant girl too poor to take her place as rightful head of her family and woman in her noted ancestress's eyes. A sad thing for a girl to do, really. Brothels were built & suited for men - everyone knew that.
But of course he thanked them. He had to. Unlike most men whose mothers found themselves in this dreadful condition, he hadn't been sold every night to women, his noble seed a method of securing a birth of the proper lineage. He had never been forced into a marriage - not 'til now, at least. He had even been allowed out of the house (with his sister by his side, of course) to practice martial arts; what was seen as befitting a boy, at least.
But when his mother finally caved - finally said, at twenty you must be given to a bride, you're far too old already - the unhappy, sunny, beautiful boy offered an alternate path.
An uncle of theirs was in the Back Palace - the Emperor's harem. Women were not allowed inside the harem, and once you entered that cold, political morass, it was well-known you may never step out of it again. His head of household would be given a stipend - it would much of the family's poverty.
It was just that he'd never see Leyla or his mother again.
That was an acceptable sacrifice - were he married, he wouldn't be allowed out of his home or to meet strangers without his wife's permission, and for the first two years at least, most women were told by their mothers never to let the groom go home too often - it gave a bad image, that the bride was maltreating him, or he was ungrateful. Men rarely could leave even if she were maltreating her, or he was ungrateful.
A small house or the entirety of the Back Palace. Either was a prison, and the Palace had far more room.
Leyla and him mounted the last bridge, and Leyla stopped at a signal from the guard - how rare to see a male guard on duty.
"This is the path of no crossing," he said. Leyla would be allowed no further. Karim would never see her again.
As he walked in, a meager pack of belongings over his back, Leyla suddenly grabbed his wrist and pulled him back, hugging him against her armored torso. The smooth metal hid her warmth, and then she pushed him forward and abruptly turned, to hide the tears in her eyes, knowing it was unwomanly to cry at losing a younger brother, to hug a younger brother like you did a sister.
Karim let the pack slide off his back, and walked forward, up the gold-filigreed bridge. On the other side, there was a door, which opened by the guards on either side when he presented his papers, with the proper seal.
Beyond that, a balding, fat little man with paunches on his cheeks was dabbing his delicate forehead.
Karim stared at him for a moment, and the man apprised him, both trying to see if they'd met the right person.
"Uncle?" Karim asked. Relief made the man's doughy face slide into a grin.
"Ah, you're young Karim, I take it. Yes, yes, glad to sponsor you, m'boy, glad - let's come in and get you set up with the Lord of Bright Deportment."
Karim longed to ask his uncle questions, to talk to him, but he admonished himself to be silent. His uncle was clearly a busy man, and spent little effort in preparing Karim for his purpose bustling them deeper into the Back Palace, which seemed to be buzzing like a kicked wasp hive.
Everywhere he went, he saw men scrubbing, painting, polishing; it was dizzying. He'd never seen so many men, never been around so many of his own gender in his life. The merry comportment of them all surprised him. There were some that were older, and unseemly, like his uncle, but the young men were all fair, clear-skinned, silken hair, ripples of lithe muscle, all that a concubine of the royal chamber was expected to be.
And how useless all of them were, since the Emperor was a six-year-old girl at this time, and had no use for any in her harem but her own family members.
As they passed yet more knots of frantic tidying, Karim dared to ask, "Is it always this busy?"
"Well, no," his uncle agreed. "It's just that everyone's trying to get every last mote of dust or faintest shabbiness from the place for her Imperial Majesty."
"I thought she was so young she as yet didn't visit these chambers at all?"
"Her most Illustrious and Noble Emperor Zhi has departed to heaven to be with her late grandmother, as of the early bells last night."
Karim stopped for a moment, leaning back, staring at his uncle's round back.
His uncle threw him an impatient look. "Is it so shocking?" he asked. "I suppose the official announcement hasn't come."
Karim had prepared himself, well as he could, to be wedded to a child. He'd expected that by the time he was old enough to possibly catch her eye, he'd be too old to do that at all. He'd resigned himself to that situation, the farce of the concubinage ceremony at the behest of a bored child.
But not to the ceremony beside a woman.
He swallowed softly, and followed his uncle at a slower, more sedate pace, chewing on the news like cow's cud.
In a magnificent office in the middle of the Back Castle, a man was leafing through some documents. The moment he entered the room, Karim nearly felt the air sucked from his lungs.
The man was older, grey-haired and grey-bearded, with muscles rippling below his robes, accentuated by the low cut of the front and the way they clung and draped on the sides. Karim felt he'd never seen a more handsome man in his life.
The man looked up, and his eyes were ice blue, sharp as the point of a dagger against your throat. Karim still had trouble breathing.
"The new concubine?" the man asked, barely taking a moment for that knife's blade look before he was back to his papers.
His uncle simpered, genuflected (Karim did too), and said, "Most Lovely of Lords, oh Lord of Bright Deportment, allow me to present my elder sister's son, Karim. Though he is a humble offering, may our family thus honor the new Emperor."
Donny put down his quill and leaned back in his chair, which creaked loudly from the strain. He was a large man, but it was all power. Karim wondered what he did to have muscles like that - he'd never seen a man so strong.
Karim stayed on his knees, head down, since this was a man who would have power over him that bordered on the absolute, second only to the Emperor herself.
"Up. Let me look at you," Donny said. Karim started, shocked such a person was speaking to him, and rose, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. He felt, quite sharply, that next to this man his clothes were shabby, his curly hair a mess.
Donny's eyes stayed on him for a long time.
"You're the first concubine she'll be offered," he said. It was blunt, straight, to the point, which Karim was not expecting. He nodded, nearly stuttering something out, unsure if this intimidating fellow wanted an answer. "You mustn't disappoint. Taiga," he said, and he'd barely raised his voice before the most beautiful boy Karim had ever seen wandered out from behind the curtains. He had an elfin face and cold black eyes, nearly as cold as the Lord of Bright Deportment.
"Yes, my lord."
"Take this young thing away. His concubinage is the first of Her Emperor's reign. Thus, it cannot leave him low-ranking, and it must be successful."
Taiga didn't seem too enthusiastic - Karim would nearly have called him bored.
But he genuflected prettily, and whisked the young man away from the steel-eyed consort and his aged uncle, to enter into the training Taiga deemed fit for him as they all waited with baited breath for the announcement of who was to take the throne. With no clear female heir, it could come to civil war before everything was properly decided.
For Karim, the next few days passed in a blur, his every waking moment spent learning the etiquette, grooming, presentation, and exercises necessary to a person of the Back Palace. Outside, a political morass was slowly giving way to the new Emperor. Karim was far too busy, Taiga turning out to be an exacting, even cruel mistress, to give any credence to the widespread rumor that the young Emperor had been poisoned. He fell asleep every night with his new young page Bao at a cot by his feet so deep from exhaustion it was nearly dreamless.
As her first entrance to the Back Palace drew closer, Taiga grew more jealous and exacting by the moment. It seemed intolerable to young Karim - but the day came. The new Emperor was to be crowned in the morning, at dawn's first light, an all-day affair. That night, as was custom, she would be expected - a virile woman of her age - to rest in the Back Palace, and sample some of the menu's delights, as they say. Karim would be presented to her then, for approval in his concubinage.
Quite what form the presenting would take, Taiga seemed uneager to explain. The day turned to night, music and cheering of the ladies in the peasant crowd barely reaching their remote restriction. Karim listened to the fireworks and wished he could sit outside and watch them. He was far too busy; it seemed every inch of his body must be buffed, trimmed, chaffed, balmed, and perfumed. His hair had been redone for the third time by then. He looked on the night with trepidation, and no small amount of regret. What would this new Empress be like? Having resigned himself to be the forgotten lapdog of a child, what would it mean to be the pet of a real king?
But of course he thanked them. He had to. Unlike most men whose mothers found themselves in this dreadful condition, he hadn't been sold every night to women, his noble seed a method of securing a birth of the proper lineage. He had never been forced into a marriage - not 'til now, at least. He had even been allowed out of the house (with his sister by his side, of course) to practice martial arts; what was seen as befitting a boy, at least.
But when his mother finally caved - finally said, at twenty you must be given to a bride, you're far too old already - the unhappy, sunny, beautiful boy offered an alternate path.
An uncle of theirs was in the Back Palace - the Emperor's harem. Women were not allowed inside the harem, and once you entered that cold, political morass, it was well-known you may never step out of it again. His head of household would be given a stipend - it would much of the family's poverty.
It was just that he'd never see Leyla or his mother again.
That was an acceptable sacrifice - were he married, he wouldn't be allowed out of his home or to meet strangers without his wife's permission, and for the first two years at least, most women were told by their mothers never to let the groom go home too often - it gave a bad image, that the bride was maltreating him, or he was ungrateful. Men rarely could leave even if she were maltreating her, or he was ungrateful.
A small house or the entirety of the Back Palace. Either was a prison, and the Palace had far more room.
Leyla and him mounted the last bridge, and Leyla stopped at a signal from the guard - how rare to see a male guard on duty.
"This is the path of no crossing," he said. Leyla would be allowed no further. Karim would never see her again.
As he walked in, a meager pack of belongings over his back, Leyla suddenly grabbed his wrist and pulled him back, hugging him against her armored torso. The smooth metal hid her warmth, and then she pushed him forward and abruptly turned, to hide the tears in her eyes, knowing it was unwomanly to cry at losing a younger brother, to hug a younger brother like you did a sister.
Karim let the pack slide off his back, and walked forward, up the gold-filigreed bridge. On the other side, there was a door, which opened by the guards on either side when he presented his papers, with the proper seal.
Beyond that, a balding, fat little man with paunches on his cheeks was dabbing his delicate forehead.
Karim stared at him for a moment, and the man apprised him, both trying to see if they'd met the right person.
"Uncle?" Karim asked. Relief made the man's doughy face slide into a grin.
"Ah, you're young Karim, I take it. Yes, yes, glad to sponsor you, m'boy, glad - let's come in and get you set up with the Lord of Bright Deportment."
Karim longed to ask his uncle questions, to talk to him, but he admonished himself to be silent. His uncle was clearly a busy man, and spent little effort in preparing Karim for his purpose bustling them deeper into the Back Palace, which seemed to be buzzing like a kicked wasp hive.
Everywhere he went, he saw men scrubbing, painting, polishing; it was dizzying. He'd never seen so many men, never been around so many of his own gender in his life. The merry comportment of them all surprised him. There were some that were older, and unseemly, like his uncle, but the young men were all fair, clear-skinned, silken hair, ripples of lithe muscle, all that a concubine of the royal chamber was expected to be.
And how useless all of them were, since the Emperor was a six-year-old girl at this time, and had no use for any in her harem but her own family members.
As they passed yet more knots of frantic tidying, Karim dared to ask, "Is it always this busy?"
"Well, no," his uncle agreed. "It's just that everyone's trying to get every last mote of dust or faintest shabbiness from the place for her Imperial Majesty."
"I thought she was so young she as yet didn't visit these chambers at all?"
"Her most Illustrious and Noble Emperor Zhi has departed to heaven to be with her late grandmother, as of the early bells last night."
Karim stopped for a moment, leaning back, staring at his uncle's round back.
His uncle threw him an impatient look. "Is it so shocking?" he asked. "I suppose the official announcement hasn't come."
Karim had prepared himself, well as he could, to be wedded to a child. He'd expected that by the time he was old enough to possibly catch her eye, he'd be too old to do that at all. He'd resigned himself to that situation, the farce of the concubinage ceremony at the behest of a bored child.
But not to the ceremony beside a woman.
He swallowed softly, and followed his uncle at a slower, more sedate pace, chewing on the news like cow's cud.
In a magnificent office in the middle of the Back Castle, a man was leafing through some documents. The moment he entered the room, Karim nearly felt the air sucked from his lungs.
The man was older, grey-haired and grey-bearded, with muscles rippling below his robes, accentuated by the low cut of the front and the way they clung and draped on the sides. Karim felt he'd never seen a more handsome man in his life.
The man looked up, and his eyes were ice blue, sharp as the point of a dagger against your throat. Karim still had trouble breathing.
"The new concubine?" the man asked, barely taking a moment for that knife's blade look before he was back to his papers.
His uncle simpered, genuflected (Karim did too), and said, "Most Lovely of Lords, oh Lord of Bright Deportment, allow me to present my elder sister's son, Karim. Though he is a humble offering, may our family thus honor the new Emperor."
Donny put down his quill and leaned back in his chair, which creaked loudly from the strain. He was a large man, but it was all power. Karim wondered what he did to have muscles like that - he'd never seen a man so strong.
Karim stayed on his knees, head down, since this was a man who would have power over him that bordered on the absolute, second only to the Emperor herself.
"Up. Let me look at you," Donny said. Karim started, shocked such a person was speaking to him, and rose, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. He felt, quite sharply, that next to this man his clothes were shabby, his curly hair a mess.
Donny's eyes stayed on him for a long time.
"You're the first concubine she'll be offered," he said. It was blunt, straight, to the point, which Karim was not expecting. He nodded, nearly stuttering something out, unsure if this intimidating fellow wanted an answer. "You mustn't disappoint. Taiga," he said, and he'd barely raised his voice before the most beautiful boy Karim had ever seen wandered out from behind the curtains. He had an elfin face and cold black eyes, nearly as cold as the Lord of Bright Deportment.
"Yes, my lord."
"Take this young thing away. His concubinage is the first of Her Emperor's reign. Thus, it cannot leave him low-ranking, and it must be successful."
Taiga didn't seem too enthusiastic - Karim would nearly have called him bored.
But he genuflected prettily, and whisked the young man away from the steel-eyed consort and his aged uncle, to enter into the training Taiga deemed fit for him as they all waited with baited breath for the announcement of who was to take the throne. With no clear female heir, it could come to civil war before everything was properly decided.
For Karim, the next few days passed in a blur, his every waking moment spent learning the etiquette, grooming, presentation, and exercises necessary to a person of the Back Palace. Outside, a political morass was slowly giving way to the new Emperor. Karim was far too busy, Taiga turning out to be an exacting, even cruel mistress, to give any credence to the widespread rumor that the young Emperor had been poisoned. He fell asleep every night with his new young page Bao at a cot by his feet so deep from exhaustion it was nearly dreamless.
As her first entrance to the Back Palace drew closer, Taiga grew more jealous and exacting by the moment. It seemed intolerable to young Karim - but the day came. The new Emperor was to be crowned in the morning, at dawn's first light, an all-day affair. That night, as was custom, she would be expected - a virile woman of her age - to rest in the Back Palace, and sample some of the menu's delights, as they say. Karim would be presented to her then, for approval in his concubinage.
Quite what form the presenting would take, Taiga seemed uneager to explain. The day turned to night, music and cheering of the ladies in the peasant crowd barely reaching their remote restriction. Karim listened to the fireworks and wished he could sit outside and watch them. He was far too busy; it seemed every inch of his body must be buffed, trimmed, chaffed, balmed, and perfumed. His hair had been redone for the third time by then. He looked on the night with trepidation, and no small amount of regret. What would this new Empress be like? Having resigned himself to be the forgotten lapdog of a child, what would it mean to be the pet of a real king?
