[b]Chamber of Harmonious Arrangements![/b]

“—and of course, we expected anyone still remaining around the cursed castle would be in league with the warlock and her demon army,” Cathak Agata says, making an expressive gesture with her goblet. “So when a dragon emerged with several demons in tow, they thought they were under attack and moved with their characteristic efficiency to neutralize the threat! We’re all lucky that I was there to interpret the situation, aren’t we?”

Rain slicks the windows of the oversized cabin. Lanterns softly sway overhead from heavy chains, interspersed with incense braziers. The tables were set down easily, slotting into grooves on the floor to keep them steady, and the floor liberally cushioned to accommodate sitting or reclining as might please one. An erhu player sits in one corner, his silk robe loose and his chest intricately tattooed, playing [i]O! Gloriana of the Triumphs![/i] Legionnaires stand to attention between the narrow glass-paned windows, stoically ignoring the pervasive aroma of Dominion cuisine: duck skin and greens wrapped in pancakes, roast sweet potatoes served with cashews and dried [i]piri-piri[/i], sesame-seed cake and smouldering-wine. Cathak Agata has her own bottle of that last, spiced herself, and poor Lotus’s eyes start watering whenever she twists the lid off.

Because Lotus is sitting next to her at one table, wearing a red-and-gold gown, her blue hair bound up around a golden comb, skin fairly glowing from her hot bath, her lips and lids both gleaming red, with golden accent lines down the center of her lids and lower lip matching her gold-rimmed glasses. It’s not like Cathak Agata has a spare priestess outfit to hand, after all. You’ve all been helped into similar outfits, given that everything you were wearing was taken to be washed. (Though for some of you, “it’s being washed” was the second reason, the first being “evidence.” But the whole silly thing got taken care of! Everything is fine!

That is to say: Han, Giriel, Piripiri, and Fengye are all there, accompanied by Azazuka (on the other side of the Red Wolf), the demonesses (in the service of Piripiri), and Melody/Lotus (unveiled and very aware of it), as well as attendant slaves in black collars and fine robes (open low at the chest) to handle pouring drinks and lubricating conversation.

Han, Fengye: you have been through the mortifying experience of being processed as prisoners of the Dominion. Stripped, cold water poured over your head, then left to stew while bound in cells barely as large as a closet. This made suddenly being pulled out and tossed into hot baths, untied, and offered extensive help from Agata’s handmaidens in getting ready for dinner all the more abrupt and dizzying. Agata’s got the final say on which of those experiences you get when you leave dinner, but it seems like she’s eager to shrug it off as a ridiculous misunderstanding by everyone involved.

Giriel: you have [i]not[/i] been through this experience. After waking up on board [i]Beneficence of the Hearth[/i], you cleared up the whole thing with Cathak Agata, who declared that she’d set the whole situation to rights. She’s also explained to you that both of the knights are under care from her physician to see to their injuries and that she would like to have a [i]private[/i] night meal with you tonight in her cabin. The sort where food’s an excuse to taste sweeter things. Congratulations! You saved Han and her demigod from the brig, and you’re going to get rewarded for it! Everything is coming up Giriel tonight.

Piripiri: you have been Disciplined for letting Azazuka out into dangerous situations, given that you were meant to keep her under safe observation in Golden Chrysanth. In her usual magnanimity, Agata then turned around and delivered both the demons into your care, and (just before the two of you entered the Chamber of Harmonious Arrangements) informed you that she wanted you to arrange a night meal for Giriel Bruinstead. Because that is, unfortunately, actually a very good use of your talents.

Do try making your own duck rolls. They’re a delicacy for a reason, after all. Don’t even think of having to refill your own glass. Just enjoy the warmth to contrast with the rain lashing against the windows, the pleasant music and incense filling the room, and the brilliant smile of your hostess.

Everything is fine.

***

[b]Kalaya![/b]

You woke up naked in a cell, and it got worse from there. When legionnaires dragged you out of the cramped cell (through a hexagon-shaped room down in the hull, suggesting room enough for six other prisoners), they didn’t offer you clothing or answers for what was going on. They just dragged you up several floors, hands under your armpits, and cuffed you down to a chair in a guest cabin, leaving you to stew and bite down on your gag, trying to find some way out.

Then Cathak Agata takes a seat opposite you, in full Dominion uniform, gold cords and impractical jacket, her fiery hair falling loose down one shoulder, and studies you for a long moment, pointer fingers resting under her lip.

“Kalaya Na,” she says. “Not really what I was expecting.” She reaches out, hooks one finger under your gag, and pulls it down to rest around your neck, then pulls out the sodden wadding, setting it down casually on your lap.

“So, Kalaya Na, Princess of the Lily, can you explain to me how, [i]exactly,[/i] you plan to…” She makes a show of pulling out a journal, looking for a certain page, reading the contents carefully. “Unite the Flower Kingdoms under your sword, defeat and humiliate the Dominion and the N’yari, force Cathak Agata to pull your chariot through the streets of Golden Chrysanth during your Triumph procession, and then usher in a golden age unseen since the days when the dragons ruled the whole world, as declared by virtue of the Five Maidens of Destiny?” 

The journal snaps shut like the fall of an executioner’s axe.

“I am [i]very[/i] interested in hearing how you plan to do all this, and how you’re making your sales pitch spread so [i]fast.[/i] It’s like wildfire, and I have to know, because I didn’t [i]think[/i] those particular techniques of Imperial Intelligence were disseminated yet. But they’re the only people I’ve seen who are this good at spreading a “”grassroots”” movement, so.”

She smiles, and it’s like staring down a dragon. Your heart really wants you to know that even if she doesn’t have fangs, she might as well.

“Let’s do this the easy way, like friends,” she adds. “I like you, after all, even though you apparently intend to dress me in a cow’s harness and make me trot with a whip licking at my heels. You know, apparently it was a [i]grandmother[/i] who was sharing those details when my agent noted it down? Wild stuff. [i]Wild[/i] stuff.”