The True Confessions of a Nine-Tailed Fox

Holding her pose like the performer she was, Floridiana waited for the cries of "What's that?" "What's inside?" and "Open it!" to die down. While she held our audience in a state of bated breath, I dashed down Eldon's arm and up Dusty's neck and was in position on the horse's head when Floridiana lowered the chest.

Den, I ordered.

High above us, the clouds swirled back together and funneled Flicker's light into a single ray that fell on me like a spot-lamp. For a moment, I let myself savor it, recalling Cassius' court and how I had shone at its center, the dark sun around whom the Empire rotated.

I savored it, and then I let it go.

Crown Prince Eldon, I proclaimed, projecting my voice with all the power of my soul (and Floridiana's spell). Crown Prince Eldon, today you come before us to fulfill a destiny that Fate laid upon your soul five hundred years ago. In the waning days of the Old Empire, you were a beacon of honor in a court of corruption and depravity, a court whose Son of Heaven had lost his mandate.

A chimera! I realized all of a sudden. I had to get Eldon a chimera. Because if anyone here had studied history, they'd know that a chimera was the physical manifestation of the Jade Emperor's mandate. Where did Heaven keep its chimeras anyway?

Later. That could come later. Right now, I had an emperor to crown.

This morning, you woke as Crown Prince Eldon of the Kingdom of East Serica. But from this moment forth, you are now and forevermore the Emperor Eldon, ruler of the New Serican Empire, the Son of Heaven who will bring peace and prosperity to all the land!

We'd planted palace servants in the crowd to start the cheers, but we didn't need them. A roar went up from every throat when I said "peace" and increased in volume at "prosperity." The ray of light that fell on me alone expanded to illuminate Eldon and Floridiana. She advanced slowly, our temporary crown raised high for all to see. The glass set into its gilt peaks caught Flicker's light and flung it out in rainbows.

I leaped from Dusty's head onto the crown.

Caught up in the splendor of the moment, the horse seemed to have forgotten his role, or perhaps balked at it. "Dusty!" hissed Floridiana, and he came back to himself with a snort.

Slowly, making sure the saddle didn't slip, he sank to his knees, lowering Eldon so Floridiana could set the crown on his head. The instant it touched the boy's hair, Den vaporized the clouds, and Flicker's golden light lit Norcap, transforming into the city of gold I had once envisioned.

Long live the Emperor! I shouted from my perch atop the crown. Long live the Son of Heaven!

"Long live the Emperor!" Floridiana shouted. "Long live the Son of Heaven!"

Voices in the crowd picked up the cry in a ragged chorus that came closer with each repetition until they were bellowing with one voice and one soul: "Long live the Emperor! Long live the Son of Heaven!"

Dusty carefully got back to his hooves, and the unified chant shattered into ecstatic cheering, aided in no small measure by the appearance of servants with platters of food. (Yes, we remembered our lessons from South Serica.)

In his first act as benevolent ruler beloved of Heaven, His Imperial Majesty invites you to celebrate his ascension with meat and drink! Feast and be merry!

Even wilder cheering.

In a low voice, I ordered Eldon, Smile and wave at the nice people.

The toddler's face split into a big, innocent grin, he craned his head around and stared at the crowd with guileless brown eyes, and he raised both chubby arms and flapped them. The crowd adored it.

Marcius had never been so popular.

"Let's go," Floridiana whispered. "Leap!"

When we bounded off the platform, we didn't return to the cobblestones of the square. Instead, borne by a combination of Dusty's strength, Floridiana's spell, and Den's wind, we soared high overhead, across the square and over the palace walls, illuminated by Flicker's golden light.

In retrospect, I should probably have guessed this – and Floridiana definitely thought I should have expected it – but after our successful coronation, I discovered that building an empire was much harder than dismantling one.

King Philip, whom you might have expected to support his only offspring to the utmost limit, was only semi-helpful. The man had deluded himself into believing that he had a greater right to issue commands in his son's name than we did.

Your Majesty, why are you obstructing the construction of the new palace?

Across the conference table – which was round, because the spats over who got to sit at the head of a rectangle had gotten too venomous – Eldon's father sat in the throne-like chair that he had insisted on digging out of storage for this purpose.

"There is no obstruction, Emissaries," declared his prime minister, whom I'd grudgingly allowed onto my Imperial Council because he was Eldon's maternal uncle and hence less likely than a paternal kinsman to attempt to dethrone his nephew immediately. The human had convinced himself that contradicting the Emissaries of Fate was not tantamount to offending the goddess herself. (He was, unfortunately, correct in that regard.) "His Majesty wishes to ensure that all is done with the proper consideration for the safety of his beloved son."

What His Majesty wished to ensure was that his possibly beloved son stayed in his palace under his control.

I gritted my teeth but forced my voice to remain calm and reasonable. Of course. We are all invested in the well-being of the Son of Heaven. But surely once the Royal Architect approves the blueprints, they can be released to the builders? As she did last week?

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"And they will be," replied the prime minister in an equally calm and equally fake tone, "just as soon as the Royal Architect re-examines the support beams in the throne room. His Majesty expressed concerns that they are not strong enough to support the weight of the roof."

Oh, did he now? I thought but didn't say. And when did a king learn enough about architecture to raise such a concern?

Philip gazed at me with that stern I-am-a-father-and-this-is-MY-CHILD expression he trotted out whenever he wanted to thwart the independence of the new Imperial regime.

"Maybe he really is worried about his son?" Floridiana whispered to me.

He wasn't worried when we strapped his son to the back of a horse spirit and put him on public display, I retorted. He's just stalling. He doesn't want us removing the Eldon from his control.

The Finance Minister, whose dour attitude reminded me of Marcius, cleared his throat. "I agree that we all want to see the Emperor seated in his own throne room, but we must seize this moment of public support for the New Empire and use it to raise taxes to – "

"To crush North Serica once and for all!" boomed the Grand Marshal.

The Finance Minister shot him a dark look.

For the ten-thousandth time, I reminded the commander of the East Serican army, Heaven sees and recognizes your fervent devotion, but there is no need to crush North Serica. The Temple to All Heaven is spreading the joyous tidings even as we speak.

"You place much faith in the Temple's ability to make North Serica see reason," commented Philip, his tone accusing me of lethal naïveté.

On the contrary, I placed much faith in the disintegration of North Serican royal control after the Black Death massacred a third of the people.

The King of North Serica lost his right to rule when he angered Heaven so much that it sent the Black Death to punish him. It is his kingdom's FATE to be absorbed into the New Empire.

That silenced the Council.

Just as it is his kingdom's FATE to be delivered from the Black Death when it accepts the Son of Heaven.

(It wasn't, but the simultaneous spread of flea remedies and the Temple, which hailed Eldon as the rightful Emperor, was convenient.)

Just in case these humans needed it spelled out even more explicitly, I added, The day that North Serica bends its knee to Emperor Eldon is the day that its suffering ends.

Are you listening? I thought up at Lady Fate. I don't care what the Goddess of Life or her Commissioners of Pestilence say – you'd better make sure it happens.

The Grand Marshal cracked his knuckles. "Then what say you we shorten their suffering, Sire?" Ignoring me and Floridiana, he waited for Philip's approval.

These humans! It would be fox kit's play to hint to the prime minister (I refused to dignify him with capital letters) that the Grand Marshal was after his job, to the Grand Marshal that the prime minister and Finance Minister were scheming to remove him, and to Philip that the three of them had forged a treasonous pact to oust him from his self-appointed role as Imperial Regent. A wink here, a whisper there, feigned outrage there, and within a week, they'd be sending assassins after one another. It would be so much easier to kill them than convince them to work with us!

"We need them," came Floridiana's warning hiss. "Don't kill them."

Wasn't planning to.

But at least one of them had to go. For the sake of my sanity and their continued existence. Three of these idiots, I could stand. Four was just asking for murder.

Remind me why we allowed the Grand Marshal on the Council? I asked Floridiana after yet another fruitless meeting.

"He's the commander of the East Serican Army. And since we don't have an army of our own...." She shrugged.

While we commanded the hearts of thousands of Sericans and could raise a riot at the drop of a whisker, an angry mob was much better for toppling a government than bolstering one. Sigh.

We have to replace him as soon as possible. For one thing, he wants a pointless war with North Serica. For another, he has absolutely no idea how to use spirits in combat and will get his army slaughtered if we ever fight demons.

"Do we expect to? Steelfang has the Wilds covered."

I'd rather not rely on him only.

"Fair...but it won't be so easy to find a new Grand Marshal. He's a duke, so if you replace him with someone with a lower noble rank, no one will accept it."

How about Lord Magnissimus? He can eat the Grand Marshal. Or freeze him and then eat him.

Floridiana and I both took a moment to imagine the wild boar demon at the head of our Imperial Army. It was easier to imagine him taking bites out of all soldiers on the field, friend and foe alike.

"He's really more of a solo fighter…."

He does seem content running his pig farm. And babysitting Taila.

We lapsed into silence again.

A duke, you said.... And Baron Claymouth is now the Duke of Chestnuton?

A smile – not a nice one either – spread across Floridiana's lips. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

Let's send Den to fetch him.

And that was how I got the first person we semi-trusted onto the Imperial Council.

Unsurprisingly, Philip treated him with disdain, and the prime minister kept making barbed comments about Claymouth's "charming rusticity." The Finance Minister, at least, monitored the situation for a while before allying with the backwater duke.

I knew he reminded me of Marcius.

The second person I appointed to the Council we did trust completely.

"FLORI!"

Mistress Jek's bellow could have been heard clear across the rice paddies. As soon as Den touched down in the palace courtyard, she slid off his back and hustled over to us.

Passing servants paused to gawk at this country bumpkin. I stood on up my hind legs, flourished, my cape, and made shooing motions with my front paws. They fled.

I'll have to teach her court etiquette, I thought – before I remembered how well that had gone last time. Or not. Maybe she'll charm the court with her "rustic" manners.

"Vanny!" exclaimed Floridiana, running to hug her best friend. "It's been so long! How are you? How is everyone?"

"I'm great! Everyone's great! The Academy is booming! Did you know that people from all over East Serica are sending their kids to us? We're expanding!"

Forgetting the open-mouthed servants, I ran onto Floridiana's shoulder to get Mistress Jek's attention. That is great news indeed. How many students and teachers do you have now? What fraction of them are human? Is Baron Claymouth's daughter still the headmistress?

Mistress Jek's jaw dropped. "Emissary? Is that – you?"

Wait. Hadn't Den told her about me?

Yes. It is I. I have returned in a different form to guide the development of –

"Flori! What's she doing here?!"

"Vanny." Floridiana put a placating hand on her friend's arm. "She is helping to rebuild the Serican Empire – "

"HER?!"

I raised my ears at Den. I take it you didn't tell her that I was involved.

The dragon king's snakelike coils were heaving. "I thought – would be – surprise. Her face! Your face!" And he doubled and tripled over with laughter.

"Who better to put the Empire back together than the one who broke it in the first place?" Floridiana had to raise her voice over Den's guffaws.

"I'm not saying it isn't – po-po-poetic," said Mistress Jek, using a word she must have picked up from the students. "But HER?"

I was getting tired of all this doubt.

I. Do you doubt my abilities?

After a look between the two women, Mistress Jek shook her head. "No, Emissary. I do not doubt your abilities." She even bowed.

"Good. Has Den filled you in on why we need you in Norcap?

At the reminder of her new Imperial duties, she stood up straight. "Yes. I'll be the Son of Heaven's new nanny." Wonder seeped into the second half of the sentence. For all that her family claimed descent from the last dynasty, I doubted she'd ever truly believed it.

And the newest member of the Imperial Council.

Mistress Jek's earsplitting "WHAAAT?" must have carried all the way to Eldon's nursery.