"Your highness," Emperor Tatsu said, slipping from his dark post.
The king stumbled and the courtesan staggered under him.
"Allow me," Emperor Tatsu said, sliding his arm under the man's shoulder.
"Your imperial highness," the king slurred. "I appreciate the assistance, but I'm sure you have some young steward better suited--"
"Is that a hint that I've grown too old to hold your weight?" the emperor said with a laugh.
"No, of course not. I--"
"It's true." Emperor Tatsu gave an easy grin that mirrored his son's. "We do grow old, don't we? But I'm still strong enough to support my friends. We are friends, I trust?"
"Y-yes, of c-course, your imperial--"
"Enough with the courtesies. You're among friends. Now, let's send this lovely flower off, so we may speak."
The king sputtered at that. He certainly could not say he'd rather spend time with a courtesan. But he was drunk enough to let his disappointment show. Emperor Tatsu only smiled and joked about old men and young girls, and sent the courtesan off with a gift. For her part, she seemed only too happy to take it, and disappeared before the king suggested she wait in his quarters. Moria could not blame her. Despite his age, Emperor Tatsu was a handsome and well-formed man. The King of Etaria . . . was not.
When the girl was gone, the emperor turned to the king.
"So, friend," he said. "Admittedly, it is a stretch to call you friend. We have not always seen eye to eye on matters of trade and politics. But I still consider you such because I believe that the friends of my friends ought to be mine as well. Do you agree?"
"Yes. Absolutely, your imperial--"
"It's Jiro. Formal titles are so tedious."
The king hesitated. "Jiro, then. Thank you. I have always said that I wished my little kingdom could be of more service to the empire. We have a great deal to offer."
"Oh, you do. You absolutely do. But when I say you are the friend of a friend, you do not ask who I mean?"
Silence. The king's mottled face strained with the effort of clear thought, as if he were passing a kidney stone.
"Why Alvar, of course," Emperor Tatsu said. "There was a time--most of my life, in fact--when no man was closer to me than Alvar Kitsune. So, tell me, how is my old friend?"
Moria realized her mistake. A warrior must know tactics beyond the obvious. While Emperor Tatsu might not lead an army these days, the bards still sang tales of his victories as a warrior, fighting alongside the friend who would one day be his marshal. He understood the art of strategy . . . whatever the battlefield.
The king blinked and blustered and then finally found his voice. "Alvar Kitsune? He's long dead, and well he should be, for betraying your imperial--"
The king was cut off by a whoomph, air rushing from his chest as he landed hard on the cobbled path, flat on his back. The emperor had snagged the king's knee with his foot and yanked his leg from under him, and now the king lay there, gaping, mouth open as he heaved for breath.
"My--my--"
Emperor Tatsu leaned over the supine man, bending until his face was only a hand's breadth from the king's face.
"You accepted my invitation, knowing you had harbored a man intent on my destruction."
"I--"
"You came without hesitation. You sat at my table. You drank my wine. You ate my food. And all the while, your ally has unleashed an unspeakable evil on my empire, on his empire, massacring his own people."
"I--"
"Oh, I know why you came. In hopes of gaining intelligence you can feed back to Alvar. My stewards and my maids tell me you've asked many questions since you arrived."
"Curiosity, your majesty. You are the most powerful man in the world. Naturally, I would have questions--"
"And you received no answers. But I will. Whatever it takes to get them."