The Bluebeard Emperor: Chapter I & II

by Twistd

Note: There are illustrations that come with this story which will be viewable by subscribing members to the Gourmet Club. These are usually images that are a little more 'dark' and 'grim'.  Click here to join.

Although many accounts from this story depicts real people, places and cultures from historic times, the tale told here is a work of fiction and must be treated as such.

CHAPTER 1: A DUEL OF FEASTS

There has always been an air of ancient splendour in the great banquet hall of the Imperial Palace of Yeh. When one dines in the great hall, one could almost feel the presence of ghosts long ago, for the palace did have a curious and illustrious past that stretched back to almost a millennium. Much like a great museum, the halls was heavy with scents that the walls and tapestries have collected from the great generations past. The tall ceiling reached into the gloom of darkness above, so high that only those with keen eyes could see the rich artwork of long-dead artisans even when the hall is lit up to its fullest. No matter how bright the torch-flames, the dining hall had always felt as if it was under-lit, and exuded an eerie tingle to any who entered the place.

The centrepiece of the room was a large and ornate rectangular table of dark polished wood which was as high as one’s knees so that instead of chairs, woven cushions of finest goose down feathers were used for seats. So large and majestic it was that it could have easily sat two scores of diners, but on this particular evening, there were only two men who made use of it.

One, a large man around the age of thirty, with small dark eyes and a broad angular face typical of the Turkic race that dominated northern and central Asia was Shi Hu, the Emperor of Northern China. Thick, and stolid, the Emperor had a belly that pushed prosperously against his strained belt. He was dressed under his rich gold and crimson raiment as the Emperor was known to be a lover of food and wine. Although he was portly, by no means he was a slob, for he had been an agile and able-bodied fighter in his youth who had led many battles until only quite recently, had usurped the throne from his predecessor, Shi Le.

The other was a larger, burly man who was a head taller than the Emperor. He wore a more modest light leather jerkin underneath a tunic of olive green silk. He might have passed off as a lowly officer in the Emperor’s army but the Silver Brooch of the Eternal Lotus pinned near his collar betrayed his true rank. General Rubila, or Rubila the Relentless as many have called him was Shi Hu’s right-hand man and confidant. He was also commander of the Imperial guard and once in the old days and Shi Hu’s lieutenant who fought by his side through numerous campaigns. Just like the Emperor, General Rubila was also of Turkic descent, his face just as broad and angular, though he looked older and resembled a hardy veteran. He had fair brown hair and his eyes were large and green. A significant scar crossed his craggy face on the forehead above his left eye to the bridge of his nose, a nasty war memento brought home from the lands of Persia.

Both men were relaxed, enjoying a rare moment of revelry as it had only been two days since the Emperor destroyed the last pockets of rebellion, remnants of Shi Le’s loyalists and for the past four days, when the Empire finally experienced a time of peace.

“Do you jest, Rubila?” Shi Hu exclaimed, continuing his conversation with the General as three of his servants emerged from the gloom to bring in the evening’s meal. “In all your travels to the South where the dark skins live, and so far to the West where men have golden hair, seen the wonders of the Great Pyramids of the Desert and the Eternal Mountains of the Himalayas, tasted all the delicacies that these cultures have to offer, and not once have you tried roast gibbon? Tsk Tsk…”

“Then I will be looking forward to tonight’s meal, Lord Emperor,” said Rubila. When he spoke, he always did so with a baritone gruffness that reminded one of a bull ox if it ever had the capacity for human speech. “And have you tried flanks of striped horse steaks from the Dark Continent? Rare, and delicious.”

Shi Hu enjoyed this challenge. He may not have journeyed to as many places far and wide as his battle-hardened and well-traveled General during their mercenary years, but he had a scholar’s curiosity and was knowledgeable about the geography and the cultures of faraway lands through many books in the great library. But most importantly, he was a gourmand of the most adventurous kind whenever it came to the meat on his platter.

“Not as rare as you may think, Rubila. But I agree that it is quite tasty,” the Emperor said with a touch of arrogance and following off a look of mild surprise on the General’s face, the Emperor continued. “After the sacking of the Eternal City, I had the pleasure of sampling some of the finest exotic meats the Great Bestiary had to offer. The striped horse was a little tough and gamy, I must admit, but the neck flanks are much more tender. Delicious, when laced with vinegar and lime. How about striped cat, then?”

“Once in the courts of the Gupta Maharaja,” answered Rubila. “They served striped cat testicles. Mostly repulsive and quite bitter, but good for virility they believe.” The General couldn’t help in good humour put a good tight fist around his crotch to put home his point.

“Oh, I can attest to that,” Shi Hu said with a favouring glance to his own crotch followed by a wink and a smile which was returned with laughter from the General.

“Oh, the Concubines must be pleased!” said Rubila with a wide grin.

And and that moment the dark brooding dining hall was momentarily brightened with their loud guffaws of good natured laughter.

The evening’s meal was brought in by the servants soon after the General’s mirth simmered down. On the long banquet table lay an array of ornate platters and bowls. The first was a decanter of steamed white rice which was served to the two men. Then the main course was placed between them, a platter of roast gibbon ribs arranged like a crown, glistening red and black at some parts where the meat charred to a sweet crunch. At the center of the crown were the lush greenery of spring onions, snow peas, bok choy and the uncooked head of the unfortunate simian. Any common person might have been repulsed by the sight of this unconventional bounty, but Shi Hu’s famous banquets had always been quite special. On any other day, platters of some exotic meats of creatures from distant lands would be served to Shi Hu’s guests and many of them, especially those who were invited for the first time, first feeling a sense of queasiness, would grow to appreciate the meticulous and beautiful nature of how the Emperor’s renowned chef, Cong Li, prepared these victuals. With any first bite, one could almost feel the painstaking detail the cook undertook to study the complexities of these unique meats and find ways of how to channel their qualities them in its most perfect culinary form.

Another large silver bowl presented was no less impressive than the main course, a steaming soup filled with the stringy texture of quail’s eggs and sharks’ fin. The aroma of vinegar and ginger lingered around this dish. The third and final course revealed a dish more conventional, a classic favourite among the upper-class citizenry of Yeh, was of dark sauced venison laced with cashew nuts, broccoli with pearly white tofu garnished with fried onions, and ground pork with sliced red sausages. If the smell was any indication of the meal to come, tonight’s feast would be a delicious affair. Rubila had always looked forward to the Shi Hu’s banquets, for any dish served in the court of the ruler always promised to be a memorable experience.

“My turn, then. Flying foxes?” said Rubila.

“Of course. Stringier than rabbit and slightly bitter. Not a bad dish, but quite forgettable nonetheless,” the Emperor replied as he reached out for the ribs. “Long neck deer?”

“Yes. Same place where I had the striped horse. Quite a rare and wondrous creature and tender too for such a lumbering beast. Cranes?”

“That, I have.” The Emperor had only recently begun to realise Rubila’s sense of culinary adventure when they had more time discussing matters other than war strategies and political manoeuvres. There were not many people like him who shared his passion for food, he thought as he chewed on the greasy piece of rib. It was going to be difficult to find another animal save for the gibbon which the general could from today henceforth cross out from his checklist of creatures he had not ingested yet. “River dragons?”

“Delicious. Tasted surprisingly like poultry. Elephants?”

The Emperor nodded. “Tough, but good in a stew. Pythons?”

“In the jungles of Siam when my troops had went for days without meat. Caught a large serpent hiding in the trees. Safe to say that it had tasted better than I thought.” Rubila said. He was savoring the gibbon’s ribs as he continued on with the conversation. A hint of déjà vu came over him, though he could not place his finger on it. It was as if the meat had reminded him of a dish he had once tasted and chose to forget. “I must mention, these ribs are superb. Like pork and venison. Tender.  I have to say the sauce is perfection too. My compliments to the chef.”

“Yes, Cong Li is excellent at what he does and I would have none other to cook my meals…but yet…” Shi Hu paused to think, and continued wistfully, “…I feel like it’s missing something.”

Rubila shot a quizzical look at Shi Hu. “Why so?”

“It’s missing…” Shi Hu’s brows furrowed, his hand waved through the air, fingers in a searching mood much like his mouth were searching for the words. “It’s missing… character.”

The Emperor then dropped the piece of stripped rib bone onto his platter with a shrill clank.

“It is difficult to explain," the Emperor continued. "It is not with taste, I think. Something indescribable, behind the taste. Like the ‘qi’ in Feng Shui. The manna of one’s soul. Right. Take the yellow giant cat from Africa for instance and not only any specimen, mind you. The female variety. Graceful and elegant. Granted, the flesh is almost equally tough, but for what the meat lacked, it had something much more behind the taste. It had in abundance…,” the Emperor paused and changed his expression to one of more regal stature, his chests puffed out and his face proud, “…character. Now, this meat,” the Emperor said, waving a fresh piece of rib at Rubila, “it is delicious, do not get me wrong. Quite tender and sweet, a little too lean for my tastes, as you know, a nice marbling of the meat always puts a good balance on the flesh. That is why I find pork, lamb and venison one of the most delicious of meats. Yet what they all lack, gibbon, pork, lamb, venison, chicken, beef, almost everything else is the character. The striped cat, the yellow giant cat, the striped horse and the giant cat-bear, they have character, but vice-versa, they lack the taste and the tenderness of the flesh.”

“I can understand what you mean,” Rubila said. He can’t help but feel that the Emperor has touched on a nerve he had long forgotten.

“You do, do you?”

“Yes, though I still find it difficult to quantify the taste of character, I feel like I could almost understand it.”

“That is why it is special. You will know when you find it. Many people have tasted character, and they do not notice it. It is in the aftertaste, the emotion you feel as you feel the flesh slide into your gullet. The hint of something special just behind the taste of sweet and salty. But to have a meat that has both the taste and tenderness of lamb, combined with the character of a lion, that I have not yet discovered. That is what that is missing.”

Rubila pondered at this new thought and looked as if a familiar moment came to him from the depths of his memory. He knew what the Emperor was saying because he felt it before once in his youth. “You almost speak of having an emotional attachment to the meal.  That it is almost your equal, that is to say… the creatures of character you mention, they were most certainly proud beasts.”

“Perhaps,” the Emperor said looking distant as if pondering on a thought.

Rubila used this time to finally savour the meal and when he took his second bite, something strange came over him. Rubila’s mind began to race. The gibbon flesh indeed reminded him of a taste quite familiar, bringing home a memory of one special meat he had once eaten at a place far away and at a time long ago. He had tried to repress this memory as it only brought on a feeling of discomfort, guilt, and another emotion much stronger and in his opinion, more dangerous for he thought it to be a misplaced emotion, not belonging to a man of his stature, one that goes against every teaching of the most gracious Siddhartha Buddha, and one that brought him shame for allowing himself to feel this way. For that meat he had tasted was of the kind that was the most sacred and forbidden, and the emotion afterwards was what disturbed him the most. It was… pleasure. Total and unequivocal pleasure. And now, as a strange sense of euphoria came over Rubila as he gorged on the morsel he was holding between his chopsticks, he started to feel the smallest hint of an erection which he kept well hidden from the Emperor.

Few words were exchanged the next few minutes for the men were busily feasting on the meal till finally the Emperor broke it.

“Beaked fish?”

“I beg your pardon, Lord Emperor?” The general said absent-mindedly still lost in his own thoughts as he worked on his fourth rib.

“Beaked fish. I will wager ten gold pieces right now that you have not tasted beaked fish,” Shi Hu shot a triumphant look at his General.

Rubila managed a puzzled scowl. “I’m not entirely sure what they are.”

“Yes, I have you!” The Emperor seemed almost childish in his trivial triumph over the matter. “They look like fish twice as long as the height of man, but they have no scales but skin, rough like that of a river boar, and they breathe air through a hole on their heads. Playful creatures, always swimming alongside our ships and not afraid of man, so we were able to catch one quite easily. Had one brought to me from the islands of Rising Sun. Strangely enough, they taste like beef, though not as rich and a little sour.”

“I might have heard of them, Children of the Sea, that was what they call them, weren’t they? I thought they were just a myth.”

“Not a myth anymore. I had one just about two moons ago. Marinated with Mongolian sauce! Wonderfully refined, and best yet, quite a lot of character. Hah! I have you!”

“Yes you have...”

Shi Hu saw that Rubila seemed remarkably distant all of a sudden.

“You have something on your mind? Are you going to deprive me of my victory with your nonchalance?”

Rubila broke from his distraction and glanced at the Emperor again as if a spell was broken.

“Nothing. Nothing, my liege. Well…” he trailed off.

There was another stretch of awkward silence before Rubila glanced at Shi Hu’s puzzled look. He opened his mouth to speak but backed off at the last minute, questioning himself. Should he reveal his secret to the Emperor now even after all this time of keeping it to himself? A better question would be if the Emperor was ready for what he was about to tell? They had been comrades a long time, since the days when Shi Hu was nothing but a promising warlord, and Rubila, a battle-hardened mercenary who had just returned from the West. An instinct inside him told him that now was the right time to tell his secret that he had told no other, a secret of what happened so many years ago that he chose to forget.

“I fear, my liege, that what you are asking me to say is something you might not be prepared to hear.”

The Emperor’s face soured slightly. “It’s not another rebellion, is it?”

“No, it’s not that. Something else… about the meal that we had today. About our challenge, you and me. I believe I may have experienced what you have described, about the deliciousness and the character of meat. I believe I have tasted the one elusive flesh that possesses… BOTH!”

The Emperor’s eyes were wide and alert at this sudden revelation that apparently gripped his trusty confidant.

“But still…” Rubila trailed off.

“What of it? Tell me now.”

Rubila drew a deep breath. He sensed a growing indignation on the part of the Emperor, that his liege may be hurt over being trumped by an amateur gourmand. Rubila, realising this, treaded carefully with his words.

“You see, my great leader… This refers to my past, when I was still a young mercenary in Persia, I did things. Things that were against the teachings of our Lord Siddhartha Buddha. To go into more detail, it was what I ate. The thought of it might sicken your stomach at first as it did to me, but after a while when I accepted what I was eating, I discovered it to be a pure revelation. The best of the meats I’ve ever tasted. It was during my time with Gundzuk. I might have once mentioned him to you.”

“I remember. The Yanda barbarian warlord you fought with against the Sassanid Persians. You’d only been with him a month if I recall. That is all I know. I don’t think you told me much about that period in your life.”

“For a good reason, my liege. I think it is time that I tell you what happened those many years ago.” Rubila drained his goblet in one last swig before he began his tale.

CHAPTER 2: RUBILA’S TALE

I must take you back twenty two years ago, that would make me nineteen, yes. Young, but at that age, I had already gone on dozens of campaigns, lost many comrades and seen much death, so I was as no less skilled with the sword today only a little more reckless and foolhardy as you see me now. It was during that time, while traveling alone west of the Himalayas, in the town of Peshawar when I was introduced to Gundzuk, the Yanda leader.

He was a man with a stature much like yours, my liege; strong and battle-hardened with dozens of well-worn scars that showed that he wasn’t a man who was a coward to pain or too shy to inflict them on others. The one quality Gundzuk possessed that made him most memorable than any other leader I had served under during those times was that he always had this mad look in his eyes and something quite unpredictable about his nature, that he could so much stick a knife into your belly for not returning a nod and paradoxically so generous that he could reward you his best horse for telling a fine joke. Only the brave or foolhardy would dare spend long moments in his company. In any case, Gundzuk welcomed me into his warband for the mere fact that I reminded him of his second cousin.

During the weeks after my acceptance into their circle, we made forays into Sassanid territories, raided towns, pillaged villages, always moving never settling down at one location for too long. Soon, the Yandas became the scourge and terror of the lands, with nothing much that the Sassanid king, Shahanshah Hormizd could do with his main armies stretched as they already were against a larger threat from the Romans. Soon, the joy of plunder began to lose its lustre. Killing innocent townsfolk who did not fight back had been as enjoyable as decimating the population of rabbits in a farmer’s pen. Fearing that his men would become complacent and lazy, Gundzuk cast ambitious eyes on larger towns. First, Kashgar which gave us a good fight, but even with our battle-rust, the defenders finally surrendered and we left with five times the reward compared to our previous haul. After Kashgar, Bactra. After Bactra, Khotai. Then all changed after Herat.

Herat’s resistance held strong against our attack. Eventually, we were found stuck in a gruelling siege. It was an ugly stalemate. One party waiting for the other to make its first move. Gundzuk was reluctant to leave, but seeing that the land surrounding Herat yielded no bounty, the threat of starvation among his men lingered. A truce was called to negotiate the trading of spoils in exchange for our departure from their lands. Parley was agreed upon with the Herati rulers and I was chosen for this important and dangerous mission. The reason being that I was the most fluent in the Persian language among the men. I was reluctant for I had heard all too common occurrences of emissaries returning without their heads when dealing with the Persians.

Nevertheless, I did what I was told and later found out that my fears were unfounded. Business with the Sassanids had concluded with much civility, helped along with the fact that the Persians respected my command of their tongue. Thus I returned – with head still attached – an offering of six horses, two chests of satin, eight barrels of rich Persian wine, twenty jars of rare Persian spices, a dozen of their fine famous carpets, five hundred pieces of gold and twelve young slave girls. And it was then that I felt that I had fallen in love for the first time.

One of these slaves had hair that shone almost bright red in the harsh sun. She seemed too regal, too out of place to be a mere servant. She had the air of nobility. I suspect her to be a highborn who had probably offended someone important in some way for someone as beautiful as her to be given to us so freely. She was a feisty wench. When the others would show a timid acceptance to their fate, she was never afraid to exhibit her contempt towards us, and that was what made her appealing to me at the same time. Hers was a beauty unlike any I’ve ever seen in my then so far, young life. You know me long enough, my liege, that I have always been intrigued by the beauty of Persian women, with their large exotic eyes and chestnut coloured skin. I found myself staring at her too long at times and when she caught me looking and our eyes locked, those eyes seemed to see through my soul. She would look at me in particular, almost pleading, as if she knew I wasn't like Gundzuk and his men. Or it was because I was the only one who knew her tongue. But I was powerless. To this day, I could not lay my eyes on another Persian woman without feeling an air of tragedy. And it was born from this slave princess from Herat that left this indelible mark on me, and I will soon explain why.

After Herat, Gundzuk declared that we were to be heading back to Peshawar. He sensed that our men grew weary, hungry and jaded, especially so after the siege, that the only thoughts on their minds were of the warm comforts of home. We had amassed enough from our plunder that every one of the men has a small fortune for himself upon our return. So Gundzuk declared a night of celebration to mark our successful campaign and return to Peshawar.

We had a merry time. We broke out the wine barrels, we drank and revelled. Gundzuk in a rare gesture of magnanimity had even released the slave women to the men to ravish to their hearts content. Spirits had been high save for a brief drama when the men were discussing which horse to slaughter for the feast. They narrowed it down to two of the lowest ranking officers to play it over a game of dice to see who can save his mount. It was in the midst of this game when Kugai, one of our largest and most feared warriors burst out of his tent, screaming louder than any man I’ve ever heard scream, blood streaming down his pants and I noticed what was amiss. He had his manhood bitten off!

Enough was enough to Gundzuk. He halted the merriment and ordered two of his men to bring out the offending slave to be presented to him. It was not to my surprise, the flame haired slave I had my eyes on. She was completely naked when the guards dragged her up, her mouth stained with Kugai's blood. Gundzuk then held her up with his arm wrapped around her throat, admired her like a prize catch from a successful hunt and said, "See here? Let this be a lesson to you the slaves, for I am not averse to sacrificing even the prettiest of you. You will sate our appetites, one way or the other." And without warning, he took out his dagger and plunged it into her chest.

My heart went into my stomach at that very moment for she had been quite special to me. And a cruelty done to such a beauty, it was such a waste. Secretly I wanted her, but even if had given a hint that he was about to kill her, I am not sure if I would be brave enough to speak out for Gundzuk to spare her life. I was too intimidated by the man.

Then he said the words that sent chills to my spine, especially when my fellow soldiers whom I had formed a camaraderie through our long and gruelling campaign, they cheered at this.

"Maghki, Bilal. You can stop your game", Gundzuk announced. "No need to slaughter any horses as we still have meat on the menu!"

I couldn’t believe my ears. Hungry as we were, I could not believe that they were contemplating such an action! I have seen much death during that time and inflicted much cruelty and horror with my hands, but what Gundzuk was proposing was utter blasphemy but I dared not say anything.

Like a prize catch from a hunt, he passed the girl to the men so that they can claim their favourite parts to eat. She was still alive as she was manhandled and violated. They squeezed, fondled, tested her quality of her fleshy parts. The legs, the breasts, her ass. When that was done, Mamul, our company’s designated chef, oh, may the heavens forgive me as I say this… he finally put her out of her misery when he beheaded her. After that, he bled her, cut off her hands and feet, gutted her, and… and… they put a wooden spit through her from groin to neck stump. I swear, the way he laid her hands on her, he seemed to even enjoy it! Then her carcass was palced over a fire to roast. Oh, the smell, I cannot forget the smell. It had been too strong to ignore and yet it disturbed me that it did not disgust me as much as the reek of burnt human flesh I am accustomed to during my years of pillaging and plundering, for with this girl, Mamul had used the rich Persian spices to season her flesh!

The roasting took about two hours. I had for the most part averted my gaze to the horrors perpetrated on the flame-haired girl, but my sense of horror succumbed to my curiosity. The sight that greeted me was one of pure nightmare. On a wooden spit at the centre of campfire was a headless carcass human carcass. I was amazed at how similar it looked to a slab of venison. Some parts look like any other parts of an animal, the ribs for instance looked almost similar to deer. But others, I could still recognise as coming from the flame-haired slave – the shapely curves of her slender legs, the fullness of the hips, her curled arms tied behind her back, the ample swell of her bosom with the fat sizzling and dripping onto the flame! I could hardly believe that the carcass was from a woman, but it was!

Then, when the time came for the men to partake the feast, they took the carcass off the flame, removed the spit and placed the carcass on a plank. Gundzuk proclaimed that Kugai, as compensation, shall have the first bite of the slave who had bitten him. Having been bandaged and now somewhat recovered minus his pride, Kugai bent down low between her legs and... he... he bit down on her groin! He meant to eat her privates as rightful recompense to what she had done to him! My lord, oh the men, they watched with relish as he chewed on the morsel, savoured it.

I could not barely believe what I had been watching. I had looked up to Kugai for he was always ready to impart advice freely to me when Gundzuk remained intimidating and distant. I had considered jovial Bilal one of my best friends in the camp, and he was looking at Kugai eating a woman's privates with rapturous glee. I want' to believe that it was weeks of hunger that drove my brothers mad, but it was certain that these were not the friends I knew!

Kugai finally finished and swallowed and proclaimed it delicious. That was when Kugai carved a chunk of rump for himself and signalled that the feast can begin. Oh how my brothers eagerly descended on the the carcass, ripping her apart like she was a piece of roast bird. Piece by piece, she had been distributed to the men, my beautiful flame-haired slave girl! The eagerness and the ease at them eating human flesh made me think this had not been their first. And even in the midst of this horror, a part of me was a little fascinated. I want to believe it was the hunger, my liege! Or fear that if I did not partake, I will be their enemy. I swear, the hunger from that long siege drove me to the brink of madness myself, that when Gundzuk and the men partook of the forbidden flesh, and they presented me a piece of rib, I… I joined in! I ate the flesh, and… I don't know if it had been that deep hunger which convinced me that I’ve never tasted anything so delicious!

There had been nothing left of her when we finished. The men had been so famished that only scraps and bones were left. The hands and feet were boiled into a soup and some of the other lower ranking solders savored that. And her head. Gundzuk kept that as a keepsake, tying her scalp to his saddle his belt among the other heads he kept from other enemy warriors.

I overheard something he said to Kugai that night. "I would also give you the head of your transgressor as a gift, but I'm afraid you won't be able to enjoy it as I will, my friend." It was met with raucous laughter and I knew what that meant.

That night, I could not stand to be in Gundzuk’s company any longer. I felt so much guilt, that I had forsaken my promises of fortune with the Yandas, and left under the cover of night with a meagre amount of supplies and coin. It was not the way I want to be remembered as an honourable warrior. As a cannibal! And with a decade of lonely sojourn to clear my head and conscience with new adventures, stories, doing my best to right the wrongs in the world as penance for my sins, until that fateful day at Red Bridge, the place where we first met if you remember.

Now, upon the conclusion of my tale, I realised that I could have omitted some of the disturbing moments of my recounting the tale. I sometimes get lost in my stories and the recollection becomes all too clear. It is even with some regret that I had brought this up in the first place, but I have made a promise to you that I will always be honest no matter the reason, and our talk of a meat's 'character' had brought me to that dark chapter again. I had wanted to forget that particular period of my life, and as you can see, for two decades, I managed to do so, until now. For that, I seek forgiveness and implore you to remember me as such, dear Emperor, as a loyal general and not to look at me in a different light because of my past.

Shi Hu could only look at his friend in a stony gaze so unnervingly neutral that it was impossible even for his trusted confidant to sense how he really felt. Then at the heart of their silence long past the moment when it felt awkward, The Emperor stood up and went to his chambers without a word to his general leaving Rubila in the immense hall fearing for his life for the very first time since he met Shi Hu at the Red Bridge.