For four centuries, Leng had endured on a balance set by Khiara the Great: two consorts, two cultures, two peoples bound beneath one god-empress. It had kept peace between the Lengii and YiTish bloodlines, between jungle and city, between the old gods below and the newer ones above.

God-Empress Zhara had broken the tradition. She broke it by marrying a foreigner from beyond the Jade Sea.

The reaction came like monsoon rain: sudden and relentless. Priests declared omens. Noble houses split. In the north, YiTish-descended lords whispered of inviting the Golden Empire back to restore order. In the south, Lengii traditionalists spoke of divine anger and the silence of the Old Ones.

The great hall burned with braziers of perfumed flame, shadows dancing across gold and jade as Zhara sat unmoving upon her throne. Below her, the warmarshal was listening to her divine will on how to deal with the rebellion.

"End it cleanly. End it fast. I will not have this drag into another season. I don't know—burn their homes or something. Just end this rebellion as soon as possible."

She had only herself to blame for these troubles, but she was the God-Empress, so she would not fault herself even a bit. After dismissing the warmarshal, the cause of all this entered. Her consort, the man she had fallen for, looked much different from her, spoke a language she did not understand, but that didn't stop her. She was the God-Empress of Leng, after all.

"Do not worry, beloved. The grand army will crush this uprising. The Old Ones foresaw all this, and I will not have my divine will questioned by peasant rabble."