[center][h2]Fort Shandong, Yantai City[/h2][/center]

[center][img]https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/90/b3/7e/90b37eb9de9f332a1b94d42f2a3e0dbc.jpg[/img][/center]

	Ma Long sat quaking, in the cold, hard wooden chair. He looked up at his sinister interrogator, trying desperately to hide the terror in his eyes. He was dead if he didn't tell them. But, for all he knew, they'd kill him either way. His entire life, he had been told that the imperials were masters of deception, who's greatest joy was stabbing their allies in the back. Were they really superior? At killing their neighbours, perhaps. At stealing food out of the mouths of children, yes. At abusing the local women, absolutely. But they knew nothing of art, culture, free industry, the favour and blessings of God's messenger in the flesh.

	With renewed hate in his eyes, Ma Long sucked his tongue, preparing to spit at the despicable creature standing over him. But before the act could be done, the interrogator saw his tightening lips, and swiftly clamped one firm hand around the rebel's throat. Ma Long gasped, and began choking on his own saliva. The interrogator continued, lifting Ma Long up by the neck. The kid's eyes bulged, still aware that any reaction on his part would cause the guards to open fire.

	"I asked you a question, rat", the interrogator hissed. "Where", he paused, reading the fearful eyes of his subject, "did you get that gun".

	Hearing a muffled scream in response, the interrogator released his grip, returning Ma Long to his chair with a thud. He stared at the pitiful creature expectantly.

	"W-wo de....", the prisoner stuttered, scouring his brain for the translation. The interrogator was speaking the empire's official northern language, and with an Akitsukuni accent. Ma Long's dialect was rural southern, and he could only understand a portion of what was being said to him.  "I... I g-get gun... f-from m-m-man in... Da Nanguo a-army. He s-say great Ji c-command us. Pro-... protec' us."

	"What man? Who is he?", the interrogator persisted.

	"Eh-ehh...", Ma Long struggled, unable to think of the word. "Ehh... he call' [i]JiangLing[/i]."

	"[i]JiangLing[/i]...", the interrogator pondered, his eyes darting around for a moment. He had heard that word before. Ma Long let out a breath of relief, as his captor's cold eyes diverted away from him. 

	"[i]JiangLing[/i]... General", the interrogator recalled, "Was he a general?"

	Ma Long, struck with shame, hesitated, provoking a threatening twitch from the interrogator's hand.

	"Du-y-yes!" he blubbered.

	The interrogator gave his pet a devilish grin. This was useful information, to be sure.

	"Wh-what happen now?", Fei inquired. "I g-go?"

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[center][h2]Residential District San, Diarjing City[/h2][/center]

[center][img]http://www.lutherie.net/forb_city3.jpg[/img][/center]

	The Emperor's royal steam-powered carriage trudged forward, through the crowds of onlooking peasants. Behind it followed a line of seventeen other military vehicles. Only a couple were still horse-drawn. In the days of old, Emperors were accompanied by a long procession of gold-lined carriages and thrones, either pulled by horses or carried by servants. These fixtures would house various dignitaries and advisers. This tradition died at Ji's coronation. His accompaniment consisted of a series of cold, grey, iron-plated wagons, each carrying six armed guards. Wealth and bright colours didn't stop the invasion, the assassinations, the sanctions. The people of Da Nanguo needed strength, not elegance.

	Ji reflected, attempting to channel the spirits of the warlords of old, who's bloodlust and mercilessness united countless kingdoms into the world's greatest empire. He was knocked out of this state by a sudden thump, as the carriage lurched to a halt. He opened, and peered through, one of the carriage's peep-holes, to see what the matter was. As he suspected, they'd run over another peasant, and the guards had to drag the body off the road. The damned fool, running across the street in front of the emperor's procession. No matter, a moment later the convoy began moving again. Onward, to the capital. The Emperor had to address his subjects.
	
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[center][h2]The Palace of Heaven, Diarjing City[/h2][/center]

[center][img]http://indonesian.cri.cn/mmsource/images/2007/01/04/hjj7.jpg[/img][/center]


	Ambassador Zhang stood at the centre of the throne room, watching hundreds of servants scurry about in preparation for the Emperor's arrival. Each servant was clad in a uniquely coloured silk robe, that swayed and fluttered as it trailed behind them. It was a beautiful sight to behold, not unlike observing one of the schools of exotic fish in the Emperor's aquatic garden.

	Tables and chairs were set for the scribes and dignitaries. Candles and incense were lit in every corner. Golden ornaments were polished and hung with care. Just outside, Zhang could hear the splashing, scrubbing, and rattling of dozens of concubines washing and decorating themselves. Each hoped to be the one to accompany the Emperor on his first night back. Past them was the reception for low-level dignitaries, where the rustling and murmuring of a dozen officials could be heard, all waiting to present their daughters as potential brides to the Emperor.

	The ruckus continued, until it was interrupted by the bellow of a trumpet. The royal convoy had arrived. Zhang quickly flipped through his documents, ensuring they were all there. Admiral Long was hoping to claim a few more southern islands, and set up additional naval bases. General Bao wanted permission to conscript the men of various northern villages. And a large, spice trading ship had returned from the West, with all kinds of exotic gifts and trade declarations. The Emperor had a busy day ahead of him.