The True Confessions of a Nine-Tailed Fox

Once we added Mistress Jek and Baron Claymouth to the Imperial Council, governing the New Empire went much better. The Finance Minister sided with us on most issues (imagine that – a professional financier, approving of my decisions! Stripey would be so proud), leaving the former King Philip and his ex-prime minister mostly decorative.

Speaking of decorative, Lodia, Stripey, and Bobo selected an East Serican representative for the Council who was exactly the nonentity we needed. I was, however, less enamored of South Serica's choice for its representative – Jullia and Anthea seized the opportunity to foist the quarrelsome Duke of Black Crag on us. Thank goodness Jullia's hotheaded uncle was sufficiently cowed (or boar'ed?) by Lord Magnissimus to fall in line when we needed his vote. As for West Serica, it sent an elder from Flying Fish Village who provided just the right blend of grandmotherly patience and no-nonsense firmness.

I wish you could see it, I told the soul inside Eldon. You'd never believe it, Marcius. I'm rebuilding the Empire for you.

The toddler threw a soft, embroidered ball across his nursery and waddled after it.

You'd better be worthy of it.

"Emissary!" scolded Mistress Jek. "That's too much pressure on a little kid!"

If he can't handle this tiny amount of expectation, he has no business running an empire.

That silenced her long enough for Eldon to retrieve his ball and toddle back to me, holding it out in both arms.

What would you have done, Marcius? What would you have prioritized? Conquering the Wilds so we can reopen land routes throughout Serica? Negotiating with the Dragon Kings of the Four Seas so we can sail between different regions? Funding research into better farming techniques so we can feed more people? Spreading the Temple more aggressively to win Heaven's favor?

"Ball!" answered Marcius' soul's current incarnation.

I bumped it with my nose, satisfying his requirement for my participation in his game. He threw it into a corner and went after it again.

"Do you think the gods will restore his memories if you talk to him as Prince Marcius enough?" inquired Mistress Jek, genuinely curious. Perhaps she was thinking about her own daughter and wondering how Taila would change if she regained Princess Cassia Quarta's memories. (Honestly, not much.)

No, the only way you can retain memories of past lives is if you're not dunked in the Tea of Forgetfulness before you're reincarnated. It's too late for Eldon.

"Then why do you keep talking to him as Prince Marcius?"

That was a gods-cursed good question. Why did the killjoy pop into my head whenever I made sweeping decisions for the direction of the Empire? It wasn't as if I'd cared about his opinions when he was alive. Why did I consult his memory now that he was dead?

I guess...I guess because...Heaven created this new Empire for him. It's his Empire.

No, that wasn't quite it. Little Eldon had no idea what his predecessor once wanted. In fact, for the duration of this life, he would have no idea what his predecessor intended, outside of what he could glean from history books. For all I knew, if we left him to his own devices, Eldon might grow up to want a very different sort of Empire from Marcius.

But he shouldn't. Because –

Well, and Marcius had a few good ideas. They would have benefitted the Empire had they been implemented.

More than that. Under him, the Empire could have been –

"Ball!" demanded Eldon, and I tapped it with my tail. He threw it and stumped off again.

Strong. He would have made the Empire strong. He could have made the Empire great, even.

No, there was still more to it than that.

He would have made the Empire great.

Yes, that was the true reason I was reshaping Serica in Marcius' image, wasn't it? Because if he had been allowed to purge the government of corruption, invest money in infrastructure and not (gold-roofed, jade-encrusted pagodas) buildings meant solely for the personal pleasure of (me) the court, fund research in technologies that would benefit everyone instead of jewelry that adorned (me) a few – if he'd been allowed to advance his agenda, if he hadn't been stymied by the political climate, if he hadn't been blocked at every turn by (me) adversarial factions, if he hadn't been driven to choose suicide over execution –

He could have been a great emperor. He would have been a great emperor.

If it hadn't been for me.

"I thought you hated him," Mistress Jek said bluntly. "Didn't you hate him? I thought you ate his heart. Or is our history textbook wrong?"

No no, no need to buy new textbooks, I hastily reassured her. I didn't want to know what that would do to the Academy's budget. I never hated him, though. I did eat his heart, but it wasn't personal. He played the game, and he lost. Also, I was hungry.

"Ball!"

I twirled in place and tapped the ball with my back paw, making Eldon giggle. This time, instead of throwing and chasing it, he kept holding it out and waiting for something.

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

I owe it to you to make the Empire as you wanted it before I hand it off to you, I whispered to him. That's why I'm doing all this.

"Ball!"

Shaking my head, I bunched up my headquarters and sprang onto the ball. His high-pitched laughter echoed through the nursery as he toppled backwards, and I jumped onto his chest to tickle his neck and armpits with my whiskers.

The nursery door banged open. I was too busy dodging Eldon's hands to see who it was, but Floridiana's voice cut through our glee.

"Piri, I need to talk to you. Now. Eldon's cousin declared herself the true Daughter of Heaven."

It was the development we'd feared.

Just as a succession of false emperors and empresses had popped up after Cassius' death, so Eldon's cousin had now commissioned a mage to spell a hunting dog into the semblance of a chimera and proclaimed that the Jade Emperor Himself had bestowed it upon her.

"Whoo boy! He's not going to like that!" commented Den when Floridiana and I arrived in the Council Chamber.

"I don't understand," she agreed. "Doesn't she know that the gods literally just sent a plague against a whole kingdom for disrespecting them? How does she expect to get away with this?"

"You aaaall put too much emphasis on pleeeeasing the gods," observed Lord Magnissimus. "Weeee never bothered in the moooountains."

Because you were demons, I pointed out. You were already breaking all the laws of Heaven and Earth on a daily basis.

"Then maaaaybe this priiiincess is the first reasonable human beeeeing I've met."

"Careful," warned Den as the rest of the Council came jogging in. "The Finance Minister will tax your pork business into oblivion if he hears you."

"Oooor he will agreeee with me."

"Whom am I agreeing with or taxing?" asked the confused human, sliding sidelong glances between the two spirits and sitting across the table to put as much distance between himself and them as possible. It wouldn't be enough to save him if Den felt like raking him with his claws, or if Lord Magnissimus decided he needed a snack and an arm would do, of course.

Which was kind of the root of the human's fear, and just one of the New Empire's many, many social issues.

"No one. You're not taxing anyone," Floridiana informed him.

Beyond the taxes that already exist, I specified, in case the Finance Minister took that as a Heavenly command to end all taxation. We were discussing what to do about the Pretender and her fake chimera.

"We arrest her, charge her with treason, and behead her," said the ex-prime minister promptly.

That would be the simplest way to handle the situation, if only I could be sure that the positive karma from bolstering Eldon's throne would offset the negative karma from killing a human. Who knew which and how many gods the princess had pre-appeased with lavish offerings before she pulled her "And heeeere's my chimera from Heaven!" stunt?

"Misrepresenting the will of the gods is certainly a capital offense," Den agreed, raising his eyeknobs at me.

I raised my ears right back, the picture of innocence. Me? Misrepresent the will of the gods? Miscast myself as their representative? Never considered such blasphemy.

Floridiana interrupted our silent exchange. "I agree that the Pretender deserves the death sentence, but history has shown that violence only begets more violence."

"Which is terrible for the economy," muttered the Finance Minister.

"What are you suggesting?" snapped Philip. "That we just allow her to prance around with her fake chimera calling herself Empress?"

It was an offensive notion, to be sure, but as long as no one believed her, she could call herself the Jade Empress and it wouldn't matter. (To me. The actual Jade Emperor would probably have opinions. Of the lethal variety.)

What is the nature of her support? I asked.

This princess was one of Eldon's many relatives on whom I'd been keeping a wary eye. She had been third in line to the East Serican throne before said throne ceased to exist, and so she already had significant political backing. But was that backing aware that she was lying about the Jade Emperor Himself?

The ex-prime minister and Finance Minister rattled off a list of nobles who were backing her. No surprises among the names, which was good. I didn't like surprises.

If we expose her publicly as a fraud, then her supporters will desert her, I told the others.

"But how do we stage that?" Floridiana wondered. "How do we convince her to risk exposure?"

The ex-prime minister stared at her as if she had gone mad. "Why do we need to 'stage' anything? You are the Emissaries from Heaven! Just smite her and end this farce!"

Den bristled at his tone, but before he could say anything inflammatory, I stepped in. While we could, of course, enact Heavenly justice on this blasphemer, the gods frown upon unnecessary harm to humans.

Lord Magnissimus snorted. Den goggled at me. The East Sericans, on the other hand, nodded with perfect acceptance. They understood why the gods hesitated to mar the superior being that was the human.

To that end, we shall use the path of least force.

"And I suppose you have ideas for that already?" Den inquired so Floridiana could pretend that she and I were on the same page.

My lips peeled back from my large, yellow rat's teeth. I do.

"A Banquet and Ball, on the Completion of the New Imperial Palace," we billed the event. "A Day of Thanksgiving and Celebration to Mark the Founding of the New Serican Empire and to Herald the Dawning of a New Age of Peace and Prosperity for All Souls under Heaven."

Or something along those lines. I let the ex-prime minister determine the wording, both because he knew modern-day taste in verbiage better, and because I needed him to feel needed so he didn't get ideas.

Weeks before the event, nobles and merchants began to pour into Norcap from all the corners of Serica. The inns filled up so fast that enterprising townsfolk started renting out beds. Pennants and red lanterns danced on strings that zigzagged back and forth across the streets, and traveling performers brought out their best lion dance costumes and acrobatic acts. People danced in the public squares all hours of the day and night.

The Imperial Council officially gave me complete discretion in designing the festivities. The Imperial Treasury was at my command once more! If I wanted, I could turn the whole palace into a bigger version of my pagoda, with gold paving stones and jade panels and pearls the size of my head!

I stunned even myself with my own restraint.

I merely ordered the palace gates covered with every kind of red flower that was in bloom somewhere in the Empire. Winged spirits flew them into the capital, and crowds gathered to admire them and congratulate themselves on the diversity of Serican flora.

I transformed the interior of the palace into a garden on the theme of "Spring Breaking Forth." Instead of commissioning sparkling diamond icicles, I had Lord Magnissimus freeze the ceilings so that real icicles hung down alongside paper lanterns from South Serica. Similarly, real bamboo, and not gold-and-enamel sculptures thereof, lined the walls to give the impression of a wintry forest. The banquet hall burst with branches of real plum blossoms. (The flowers, which bloomed in the snow, represented perseverance through the centuries of adversity that Sericans had faced.) Finally, the ballroom was a riot of cherry blossoms, azaleas, wisteria, and even orchids from the southernmost tip of South Serica, all frozen by Lord Magnissimus to prevent them from wilting. Never had any artist created such magnificence on such a moderate budget!

My masterpiece was complete. Now I just had to wait for the Pretender to step into my flowery trap.