The True Confessions of a Nine-Tailed Fox

In deference to (or, more accurately, shackled by) a toddler's short attention span and unpredictable temperament, we kept the coronation short. Also in deference to and shackled by East Serica's shaky finances, we kept the coronation simple.

Well, at least we have an audience, I sighed, surveying the assorted courtiers, townsfolk, and farmers who filled Norcap's largest square.

This crowd was nowhere near as large as the singing mob we'd led through the streets of Goldhill to Jullia's palace, and nowhere near as energetic. In fact, everything in Norcap seemed faded and weary compared to the southern capital.

"They all look, I don't know, tired?" Hovering above the palace with Floridiana and me on his back, Den swiveled his long neck and surveyed the listless citizens.

Floridiana, on the other hand, was undismayed by their lack of fervor. "They've been at war with North Serica for centuries. Now they're picturing going to war with South Serica too. And West Serica. And maybe the Wilds. Trust me, nobody wants to fight in the Wilds."

Yeah, that had been an ongoing theme in South Serica. One that had nearly dethroned Jullia.

Den glided back down to the courtyard, scattering the human servants like dry leaves. "I wouldn't want to fight in the Wilds, and I'm a dragon king."

Even though he couldn't see me, I raised my ears skeptically. As far as I could tell, he and Floridiana had benefited greatly from their sojourn – which had included quite a bit of combat – in the Wilds. Both of them had gained significant power that I didn't see Den complaining about when they unleashed it on the catfish demon.

Plus, they'd be happy to bring back weaponized photinia tree spirit pollen, an army of rock macaque demons, and a gigantic wild boar demon who could freeze anything he touched. And then devour it.

If this ridiculous court weren't so prejudiced against spirits, I sniffed, the king could recruit spirits into his army. Then it could fight demons, no problem.

"They do have spirits in their army." Now that we were back on the ground, Dusty joined us. Under the weak Norcap sunshine, his coat no longer glowed glorious gold. It had dulled to a rather common raw umber (which was the nice way of saying "light brown"). "I talked to some of them."

They do? You did? When?

"This morning. You took forever fussing over your fur. Also, did anyone tell you that the bow on your tail looks ridiculous?"

Hey!

I was proud of that bow. I had taken great pains to match the ribbon to Lodia's silk cape. And then I had taken great pains to direct Floridiana's fumbling attempts to tie a perfectly symmetrical bow.

"I told you so," muttered the mage.

I bared my long, yellow teeth at her, making nearby humans recoil. We're getting off topic. Dusty, you were saying?

Pointedly ignoring Floridiana's "Look who's talking," I focused on the horse spirit. He tossed his mane, but without bright sunlight, it didn't glitter the way it normally did. That was all right, though. That was how I wanted it.

For now.

"As I was saying before SOMEBODY interrupted me, East Serica does have spirit soldiers. It just doesn't use them right. They split up the spirits across different units so the humans can keep an eye on them. But the humans don't know how to coordinate with them, so it's all pointless."

"It's not like that in Claymouth," objected Den at the same time that Floridiana snapped, "That can't be right."

Dusty stamped a hoof, cracking a paving stone. "Who's the one who talked to them? You or me?"

"Humans and spirits are integrated perfectly well in Claymouth," Den reminded him. "And Baron Claymouth keeps the rock macaques under their own officers in a highly effective unit."

He does? I hadn't followed developments in Claymouth nearly as closely as I should have.

Den nodded. "Yeah. It's why he's taken over so many of his neighbors' fiefs. Actually, I guess I shouldn't call him 'Baron Claymouth' anymore. He's the Duke of Chestnuton now."

Chestnuton?!

"Yeah, do you know it? It's – "

I know Chestnuton.

Or, more accurately, I knew why it had been important to me. The Duchy of Chestnuton had, as its name suggested, provided a steady supply of the finest chestnuts to the Imperial kitchens. Just remembering the braised pork belly and chestnut dish that I used to order as a midnight snack made my mouth water. With an effort, I pulled myself back to the much drabber and blander present.

Well, good for Baron Claymouth. But if he can integrate spirits and humans, what's wrong with the capital? And the royal government?

Den seemed to grope for words. "Ah, well, you see, Claymouth is very far away from Norcap, so it's always done things its own way…."

Dusty cut in. "'Cuz Claymouth is a rural backwater and nobody cares what it does." At my ferocious glare, he backed up a few steps. "What? I'm just repeating what other people said!"

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Well, put a little thought into things before you repeat them mindlessly.

"I thought you liked it when people repeated your words mindlessly," Floridiana observed.

I redirected my glare at her, but she refused to back down.

That's different.

"Is it? How?"

On the side, Dusty backed up several more steps until his rump banged into the wall. He leaped straight up into the air like a cat.

Den hastily suggested, "Maybe let's discuss this later? Hey, look! Flicker's in place."

Following his claw upward, I spotted a faint glow behind the blanket of grey clouds, as if the sun were trying to break through.

Excellent. Hopping onto Floridiana's shoulder, I crooked a paw at the nearest page boy. Inform His Imperial Majesty that we are ready.

The boy squeaked when I spoke, then seemed to recall that I was a miracle, not a spirit, and bowed low. "At once, Honored Emissary." Weaving between the guards and servants, he vanished into the palace.

Dusty, are you ready?

"I am always READY! The Valiant Prince of the Victorious Whirlwind – "

Then why aren't you in place already?

Snorting, Dusty stomped over to the door to await the emperor's arrival. Humans backed away to give him plenty of space.

"Well, I'd better get going too," said Den. "Good luck."

He brushed a quick kiss on Floridiana's cheek. Before either of us could recover from the shock, he took off, taking his place on the highest tower of the palace. His long, scaly body shook with laughter at our reactions.

I poked Floridiana in the neck. You'd better shut your mouth before a fly demon lays eggs in it.

"I – I – wait, what?"

Daydream later. We have an emperor to crown.

"I am far too sensible to daydream."

With an effort, she wrenched her eyes off Den and lowered her hand from her cheek. Just in time, too, because two servants flung open the doors and out toddled the ruler of all Serica, clinging to his nurse's hand. With his free fist, he rubbed his eyes.

"He's tired. It's time for his nap," the nurse informed us, in a tone just shy of rebuke.

Wasn't he supposed to have slept already?

We'd specifically scheduled the coronation for after Eldon's afternoon nap so he'd be well rested and less likely to start crying.

"Honored Emissary, human children do not sleep on command."

We were given to understand that –

Floridiana cut me off by squatting so she was eye level with Eldon. From the gasps of watching servants, they had not expected an Emissary of Fate to lower herself thus. Personally, I thought the gesture held effective symbolism: Fate, subordinate to the Son of Heaven. I hoped the gods were watching.

"Your Imperial Majesty," she said, more gently than she ever spoke to me, "I know you're tired and want your nap."

"Naaaap!" he agreed, in shrill wail that made me clap my paws over my ears.

"I know, I know. We just need to do one thing. It will be very fast," she continued in the same patient voice. "You just need to ride the horsey to the platform, and we'll put a crown on your head, and you can come back for your nap. Is that okay?"

"I wan' my naaaap!"

Oh dear. He was as bad as Taila. Why couldn't we have done this when he no longer needed daily naps? Why had Lady Fate insisted that we resurrect the Serican Empire now? What was an extra ten or twenty years when you'd already delayed the coronation for five hundred?

His nurse bent down and coaxed, "You can have your nap soon, Highness. You just need to ride the horsey first. Don't you want to ride the nice horsey?" She shot Dusty a look of revulsion that was completely at odds with her words.

This would never do. She was prejudicing the new emperor against spirits too. We were going to have to find Eldon a new nurse. Maybe we could import one from Claymouth? I entertained a fantasy of Mistress Jek plonking her hands on her hips, staring down at the boy-emperor, and shouting at him for being unreasonable.

Hmmm, actually, that might not be such a bad idea. Taila was old enough that she no longer needed her mother all the time, and Floridiana could use her friend here....

Later, I told myself as a guard lifted Eldon onto Dusty's back. I'll sort it out later. First we have a coronation to carry out, hopefully without any tantrums. Lady Fate, if you truly control destiny or can tweak it even the teeniest iota, let us get through this coronation without any tantrums.

Once the little boy was strapped into the special saddle so he wouldn't fall off, Floridiana took her place at Dusty's shoulder, carrying a fancy chest we'd borrowed from the Royal Theater. I leaped onto the horse's back – "That TICKLES!" – and ran up Eldon's arm to perch on his shoulder. He giggled, a gleeful sound I'd never heard out of Marcius.

Were you like this little boy once? I wondered. Innocent enough to take pleasure in simple things, like a rat spirit playing peekaboo with you?

Impossible to imagine the killjoy as anything but the dour mage with his endless scrolls of numbers, all of which condemned me for frittering away the Imperial Treasury on jewelry and vanity building projects.

Impossible to imagine this chubby toddler as that scowling, sallow-cheeked scholar clad in boring black robes and prissy self-righteousness.

It will be different this time, I whispered to the soul that resided within this boy, my ancient nemesis, my present ward. Both of us are different now.

He giggled again, not understanding.

All right! I announced, sitting up on my hind legs. It is time! Get ready, everyone. Heralds!

The heralds atop the palace wall flinched, forced themselves to remember that I wasn't a spirit, and raised their trumpets to their lips. Bright, triumphant notes cascaded over the courtyard and the crowd beyond, bringing in their wake the hush of anticipation.

Gates!

Liveried servants hauled open the gates.

Den!

High above us, the dragon king pointed a claw upward and swirled it. A pinprick hole opened in the clouds. It grew to the size of a copper coin, then a rice bowl, then a crown.

Flicker!

Golden light whumped through the hole and struck us right as we processed into the square. The crowd gasped, perking up at last.

"Pretty!" squealed Eldon, stretching his chubby arms up as if to grab fistfuls of the light.

I had to execute a little dance to stay on his shoulder. Pretty. Now wave to the nice people. These are your subjects. You have to be nice to them.

(Well, sometimes, anyway. If you didn't want them to rebel en masse. But you couldn't be too nice either, or they'd seize power from you, transform you into a puppet emperor, and assassinate you when their power base was sufficiently secure. But that was a lesson for another day.)

Eldon obediently waved at the crowd. Awww's rose: spontaneous ones from townsfolk who stood on tiptoe to glimpse of their tiny new ruler and the Emissaries of Fate who guided him to his destiny, and calculating ones from courtiers who were already scheming to manipulate the boy-emperor.

I see you, I thought at the latter. You can't fool me, because I was once you. I was once better than you. This time – this time, though –

Carpenters had cobbled together a platform in the center of the square, and palace servants had draped its sides with all the yellow cloth they could scrounge. There were no steps, something that the sharper-eyed members of our audience noticed as Flicker and Den's spotlight escorted us up to the platform.

"'Ow's 'e getting up?" cried someone without needing any prompting from my plants in the crowd.

With one bound, Dusty kicked off the cobblestones and arced overhead. At the same time, Floridiana murmured "Leap" to her pre-stamped boots and shot up next to us.

Cheering draped over us like a cloak of roses when we touched down on the platform. Eldon clapped and shrieked with delight, which drew more cheering.

Taking a step forward, Floridiana pivoted to face Eldon. She raised the chest for all to see.