[b][u]Kyugyu, Kingdom of Old Otnemarcas, Otnemarcasan Empire[/u][/b]

“My lord, I beg you to reconsider.” Very rarely did an arch-priestess formally bow towards another. Why would the living conduit for the deities need to show subordination to another? Yet arch-priestess Sying did just that, holding the bow for a few seconds before rising to look at the uncaring face of the emperor. Sying simply couldn’t understand the man. Why would he turn his back to the deities and become a Sibytte?

“No” Emperor Lii Severin answered. The man, who had once been thought to be one of Otnemarcas’s most brilliant and benevolent of leaders, sneered at Sying as he said “The time for tolerance has long since passed. In fact… wasn’t it your predecessor who said that ‘tolerance was the worst thing imaginable’? Frankly I have to agree with the sentiment.” The emperor brought a hand up to his chin to stroke his beard as he continued “I believe the time has come for you to give up on your heretical ways.” Sying could feel her jaw drop as she processed what the emperor was asking of her.

“I will not be converted.” She said. “I will not turn my back on the gods like you have.”

“Then I will have you branded as a traitor and executed.” The emperor proclaimed as he turned to leave.

“What will it take for us to gain the freedom to worship our gods?” Sying cried as she grabbed the emperor’s arm. Sying felt something strike her stomach as the emperor spun around with incredible speed. Had he punched her?

“The price of freedom is death” The emperor quietly said as he stepped back and turned his back on her to walk away. Sying tried to follow, but couldn’t seem to gather any strength in her legs. Looking down she saw a short blade protruding from her stomach. She fell to her knees, her hands quivering as she reached for the blade. She had almost reached it when the sound of a child screaming reached her ears. She slowly turned her head to gaze at the small form of Princess Meirong. She found herself able to do little more than stare at the young princess as her life rushed out of her, staining her previously white hanfu a starkly contrasting red. Finally the she passed the point of no return; she toppled to the ground, the last of her strength having been used up. As the arch-priestess of the Otnemarcasan Empire fell to the floor, no longer able to hold herself up, all she could think about was how she hoped the young Meirong wouldn’t be traumatized by what she was seeing.

[b][u]Somewhere in the North Sea[/u][/b]

Meirong awoke to find herself and her sheets drenched in sweat. Her pulse raced as she rose into a sitting position, memories of her dream still racing through her mind. Even in the dim light available in her cabin she could see her hands shaking. When would she be able to forget that terrible day?

Taking a few deep breaths to steady herself, she rose to her feet and changed into a clean set of clothes. She felt disgusting, but there was little she could do until her ship reached a port in the Justinian Patrimony where she could hopefully take a bath. It was in the Justinian Patrimony that she hoped to find a means to end the Sibytte Wars once and for all.