The Empror's Trap

Kenji led Lina into the main hall. At that moment, most guests were still raising their glasses and hadn't noticed her arrival. Soon, though, a small group realized there was an extra face at their banquet—and one they clearly disliked. Their stares were anything but friendly. Lina didn't pay them much mind, but being watched so intently while eating felt uncomfortable.

"Ignore them. Come eat," Kenji said. He sat at his place, then pulled a chair over and set it beside him for Lina. He also told the maids to move her bowl and chopsticks to his side.

As commander of the Gray Scales Division, Lina wielded real authority. Yet the department was newly formed, answered only to the Emperor, and ranked below the established central ministries. In the hierarchy of the main hall, her official rank still trailed those veteran ministers. At first, the court had made an exception for her because of Kenji, but once she stepped inside she'd felt unwelcome. She'd retreated outside so Kenji wouldn't have to defend her. Now that Kenji had placed her seat beside his, the hostile gazes remained, but at least she could calm herself next to her Young Master.

"Actually, it's fine if I don't eat," Lina murmured.

"Stop joking. There's so much good food. Try some," Kenji replied. He used his chopsticks to pick up a piece of deer sinew that had been stewed until it practically melted on contact. He dropped it into her bowl. "We don't get this often."

Strictly speaking, the Anos family could afford daily feasts of rare delicacies. Kenji simply hated watching dishes go to waste. He didn't like the sight of half‑eaten plates ending up in the trash—his servants couldn't even finish it all—so he kept his banquets modest. Now that Lina was a central official too, she deserved a treat.

"Grand Marshal," a familiar voice called from Kenji's other side. "About that matter last time—thanks to your help freeing Chancellor Long and me, we steadied the situation and lived up to Her Majesty's hopes. Tonight, I must offer you a toast."

Kenji turned his head. The man beside him was a handsome middle‑ager. Though time had left faint lines on his face, his features remained refined, and he carried himself like a scholarly gentleman. Kenji recognized him as Head Censor Cassian Thorne —the only official in the court, outside the Emperor and Chancellor Long, whose rank equaled Kenji's.

"Mr. Cassian, you flatter me. I was only doing my duty," Kenji said, smiling. He raised his cup and clinked it against Cassian's. "I hear you've been busy with inspection tours. I haven't seen you around the palace much lately. Rumor says it's true—does Her Majesty really send you out that often?"

"Aye," Cassian said with a wry smile. "Her Majesty tasked me with inspecting the canal works. A few days ago, I also went to Hexi County to check on the harvest and supervise reconstruction in several districts."

"That county should have recovered somewhat by now, right?"

"It has. When I first went for disaster relief, I'd never imagined such devastation could exist. The people there suffered terribly. Thankfully, the court still had spare resources and prevented things from getting worse. Otherwise, who knows how many more would have starved."

Cassian sighed deeply.

"Hexi disaster shows us we still lack the capacity for swift, large‑scale relief… After the floods, relief grain and funds should have gone out immediately on the official roads. Instead, each region passed the buck, waiting for direct orders from the center. That delay alone wasted nearly half a month…"

"My thoughts exactly," Cassian agreed. "That's why I took charge of expanding Hexi's granaries on my return. I also heard about your effort to purchase surplus grain from the people. Hexi has always been a vital granary region for Camelot Empire. We can't afford setbacks. I understand much of the grain you secured was sent to their storehouses. At least that stockpile will shield them from famine and serve as a buffer."

"Enough about that," Kenji said, waving a hand. "The worst is past. We must look ahead. By the way, Head Censor, this is Commander Lina of the Gray Scales Division. You haven't had the chance to formally greet her since she took office."

Cassian smiled and inclined his head to Lina. "Commander Lina, an honor."

Lina bowed politely. "I'm grateful, Head Censor, but I owe my post to my Young Master's favor."

Cassian laughed. "If positions alone produced results, we'd see them everywhere. But I heard about your operation against the Old Fron Trading Guild. Clean, efficient work. Did you finish the interrogations?"

"We've questioned most of them," Lina replied carefully. "We've gathered enough to reach a verdict."

She kept the details sparse—some Gray Scales cases involved sensitive secrets.

"You see?" Cassian said, turning back to Kenji. "Your people simply outshine the rest. Let's have another drink!"

The banquet carried on past midnight before it finally broke up. Kenji got thoroughly drunk—though he hadn't forced himself. Everyone at court knew his limit, yet even those small cups did him in.

"Is he all right?" Pluvia asked, watching Kenji slump forward.

"He'll be fine," Lina said. She hoisted him onto her back with ease. "Young Master can't hold his liquor, but after a sleep he recovers completely. Your Majesty need not worry. I'll take him home."

"Shall I send someone to help?"

"No trouble, Your Majesty. I've got this,"

"All right, take care on the way," Pluvia said. She didn't insist further—her arms were aching from holding Kenji's gifts, and she had neither the energy nor the patience to fuss.

With that, Lina set off into the night, carrying her young master back through the empty corridors of the palace.

....

The next morning, in the imperial bedchamber, Kenji held his Western Campaign Plan in hand, staring at Pluvia, who lay on the bed with a face full of resentment.

"You don't need to show me the text—read it out loud," Pluvia ordered.

"Uh, Your Majesty, I still think you ought to read it yourself…" Kenji hesitated.

"Read!" she snapped.

"Yes, Your Majesty!" Kenji cleared his throat and began:

"…According to reports, the state of Samanjiang currently fields 120,000 troops. Its terrain is mountainous. Samanjiang's military system—known as the Mandala system—entrusts local elders with command. Each region's forces operate independently, and civil administration and legal codes are poorly integrated…"

Before Kenji could finish the full briefing, Pluvia signaled to Sonya, who had been summoned to give her a therapeutic massage under the imperial physician's instructions.

Pluvia had insisted on Sonya's help because she had trained in martial arts since childhood. The imperial doctor recommended a technique that followed the muscle‑fiber direction, so Kenji and Pluvia both trusted that her hands would be experienced hands.

"…Given these conditions, our campaign must prepare for infiltration and encirclement, eliminating enemy detachments one by one. Mountain passes render cavalry, chariots, and siege engines ineffective. I therefore recommend a force composed primarily of light and heavy infantry. First, secure the mountain ridges around Samanjiang's major cities; then lay siege to the cities themselves. Next…"

Sonya approached Pluvia's right arm. She placed her two fingertips together and followed the muscle fibers from shoulder to wrist, pressing gently and sliding down.

"Ah~!" Pluvia cried out.

Kenji, still reading the plan, flinched and looked up.

"Your Majesty—" Sonya froze. "Am I… hurting you?"

"Careful… it's excruciating," Pluvia hissed, her arm tensing.

"I—Your Majesty, I'm being gentle," Sonya protested. "I only used the lightest pressure the physician recommended."

"Is that so? Then be even lighter," Pluvia growled. She bit her lip as another jolt of pain shot through her arm.

Kenji, trying to keep his composure, gave a half‑smile. "Miss Sonya, must you really squeeze so hard? You've always trained in martial arts—your grip is strong. Perhaps you can't moderate your strength?"

Sonya bristled. "What do you mean, Grand Marshal? Are you calling me a rampaging tigress with superhuman strength?"

"I didn't say that. You did," Kenji teased.

"Grand Marshal, please stop your idle teasing. If you doubt my strength, why not try it yourself?" Sonya shot back.

Kenji's eyes glinted. "Very well. I've encountered this kind of soreness before. Let me try." He turned back to Pluvia. "Your Majesty, please relax your arm. I beg your forgiveness for the impropriety."

Pluvia raised an eyebrow. "Go ahead—you can be more… improper than Sonya, I suppose."

If this were any other day, a man touching a female emperor's bare arm would be a grave breach of etiquette. But Pluvia's arm was unbearable, and she welcomed anyone who might ease the pain.

Kenji positioned himself at the bedside. He steadied Pluvia's arm with one hand and, with the other, laid his two fingertips along the muscle fibers. He pressed as lightly as possible, then slowly slid down the arm.

"Brace yourself," he murmured.

"Eee—ah!" Pluvia's shriek was piercing. Her entire arm drew back reflexively. She clenched the sheets and kicked out, as if being interrogated under torture.

Kenji froze. He instinctively grabbed her arm to keep her from pulling away—only to drive his fingers deeper into the tender muscles. Pluvia's shriek turned into a conspiracy of shrill yelps.

Sonya, recovering from her embarrassment, rushed forward and pried Kenji's hand away. "You're going to crush Her Majesty!"

"It's not me—it doesn't feel like it's me!" Kenji protested, disbelief in his voice.

"See? I told you I was already gentle," Sonya said with a weary shrug. "Your Majesty must be… especially sensitive."

"Amazing sensitivity," Kenji muttered. He looked at Pluvia's pale, sweating face with new respect.

Pluvia, still panting, managed to croak, "Does… it have to hurt this much?"

Sonya knelt beside the bed, checking the arm. "The physician says the method is effective. It's normal to feel sharp pain at first. Better to endure now than remain sore for days."

Kenji nodded. "Let us continue. If Your Majesty avoids treatment, the arm could throb for many more days."

Pluvia glared at him. "I refuse. I'll rest and recover."

"What about official documents?" Kenji pointed to the Western Campaign Plan in his hand. "Can you read and sign them with one functional hand?"

Pluvia sighed, trapped. "Very well… continue."

Kenji motioned to Sonya. "Fetch a towel for sweat. We must be thorough."

"No—wait—" Pluvia tried to protest, but another pulse of pain cut her off. She wailed, "I'll cut off your hands if you don't stop!"

"Silence!" Kenji growled, leaning forward. He applied a gentle stretch to her fingers, then a slow slide along her forearm.

"Ahhh—stop—too painful—" Pluvia's voice cracked. "You monsters—how dare you torture me!"

Her cries echoed through the palace corridors. Outside, the Royal Guards exchanged bewildered looks. They knew the emperor was seldom roused from her dignified composure—yet from within came the sounds of cruel treatment, a ruler reduced to pleading for mercy.

By the end of the session, Pluvia's arm did show real improvement. The sharp ache dulled to a manageable throb. She sank back onto the pillows, exhausted but oddly satisfied.

Kenji closed the campaign plan and bowed. "Your Majesty, the treatment is complete. I believe you can rest now."

Pluvia closed her eyes, breathing heavily. "Next time… bring a whip and call it harsh justice."

Kenji suppressed a smile. "As you wish, Your Majesty."

And so ended the emperor's morning of punishment at the hands of her own Grand Marshal and trusted attendants—an unofficial therapy session that became the court's most curious legend of the day.