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  1. Captain Kezin stared at the cooling body of the Svordish Ambassador and felt the beginnings of a terrible headache pounding in his temples. He’d known, of course. Coded messages exchanged the traditional way had indicated this was a potential danger. Emotions in the Rose Empire these days ran high around the Svordish. You had decades of raids to thank for that. The Svordish navy was…uncontested, for now, even if the Emperor’s loyal forces had an advantage defending their home territory. And you didn’t have to be a fool not to realise that something like this murder was especially possible with the Emperor of the Eighty Suns…ailing. Certain truths had to be admitted. It was a delicate time for the Rose Empire, and Senior Arbiter Wuzhi of the Discovery Faction had made many enemies, in the time of the Faction’s prominence. Perhaps too many enemies, Kezin reflected, if the Svordish Ambassador was now dead in the middle of the faction’s private compound. And there was the matter every reasonable person tried very hard not to think about: the death of a Striker general branded a traitor, five years ago. Strangled at dusk, of course. You tried very hard not to think about certain things. Matters of Empire, Senior Arbiter Wuzhi had called it. Privately, because Kezin would never be so foolish as to ever give voice to the thought–well. You could acknowledge that there were certain irregularities about the death of General Yuen. You could acknowledge, too, that the General had been vital to the security of the Rose Empire, with the stirrings of rebellion among the MaiPon, and the Svordish raids slicing into the territorial integrity of the Empire. You could remember the Battle of the Red River. You could do all this, and still be troubled by the matter of an extremely dead Svordish Ambassador, whose death would need to be explained to the Senior Arbiter, to the factions of the Rose Empire, and to the Svordish, with whom the Empire was now at a tenuous peace. Above his paygrade, that last two, for which Kezin cautiously gave thanks to the eighty splendid suns which, one at a time, blessed the Empire with their radiance, before fading again into the darkness below the civilised world. Senior Arbiter Wuzhi was extremely displeased. The death of the Svordish Ambassador was one matter entirely. He could not say he’d expected it. After all, that was entirely the point of having a guard selected from the best the Discovery Faction had to offer. The fact that the guard had failed in this aspect was extremely troubling. It pointed to certain things, certain undercurrents he’d done his best to navigate since five years ago. You made the best decisions you could, Senior Arbiter Wuzhi reflected. There were certain affairs an upstart Striker general was not the best-placed to appreciate, and then there were the desires of the Emperor to consider. And the good of the Empire. They had peace with the Svordish, now. And precious time to put down the stirrings of rebellion in MaiPon, time to ensure the stability of the Empire. You needed these things. Sometimes, peace had a price. The Svordish had named theirs, though it was not the sort of thing you preserved on paper at any point. Worse than the death of the Ambassador, however, was the fact a sensitive and extremely critical letter had gone missing. Wuzhi ground his teeth together and tried not to pace in the room. He stared at the spreading pool of blood, at the knife protruding from the back of the Svordish Ambassador. Facedown in his blood. He’d turned his back to whoever it was that’d killed him. That sort of thing, it meant something, didn’t it? He’d never seen it coming. Or he’d trusted the killer. Turned his back to the knife. Wuzhi found himself thinking about a Striker general. About five years ago. History, now. Long burned, washed away. But his ghost still haunted the Rose Empire. You never seemed to be able to let old ghosts die. “I’ve ordered the compound locked down,” Captain Kezin said, quietly. He understood, at least, the gravity of the situation. “No one will leave until the killer is found.” “There was a letter,” Wuzhi said, brusquely. “An extremely sensitive letter, crucial to the future of the faction…and the Empire.” Offers of Svordish aid. A certain price exacted: concessions would be required, of course. The negotiations had only begun. It grated, accepting Svordish aid. But the Discovery Faction was struggling to maintain its prominence. The Emperor was ailing on his throne…and the vultures, the other damnable factions, were already circling, sensing weakness. It required a careful play here, an ability to take the long view of things. Captain Kezin didn’t blink. He’d seen the worst the Discovery Faction had to offer. That made him someone who could be relied on, as far as Wuzhi was concerned. “Find me that letter, Captain,” Wuzhi commanded. “And find me that killer, by dawn, even if you have to execute every last soldier and servant in the compound.” He yanked the bloody knife out of the corpse, handed it to Kezin, who took it, his hand steady. A standard-issue knife, the hilt wrapped with cord. The sort of weapon you’d expect any soldier of the Discovery Faction to carry. Kezin swallowed. He pressed his fist to his heart in salute. There were certain things you could expect, Wuzhi thought, watching the captain leave, if you knew a man had seen the worst of the Discovery Faction. He understood necessity. His loyalties, at least, were not to be questioned. The killer, whoever it was, had damnable timing. And had left Wuzhi an extremely delicate mess to disentangle. He’d take it out on them, even if Kezin had to kill his way through every last person in the compound. The company assembled in the square of the compound. Kezin eyed them all warily. One of them was fidgeting with a belt buckle. Nervousness? Or just wariness? He raked his gaze across the assembled ranks, searching for anyone who had a missing dagger. None of them had come wearing theirs. It stood to figure, Kezin thought, annoyed. It never was that simple. Even if you have to execute every last soldier and servant in the compound, Wuzhi had ordered. Kezin had heard the coldness in the man’s voice. The last time he’d heard the frosty tone had been five years ago. He remembered it all, even if he wasn’t supposed to. “The Svordish Ambassador has been murdered,” Kezin announced to the soldiers gathered before him in the square, the company forming ranks as though preparing for inspection. “I’ve ordered the compound locked down.” A dicey proposition, but there were men he’d handpicked and trusted, even if in theory the entire company was meant to be handpicked and trusted with securing the high-level diplomatic meeting. A lapse he would deal with later on. There were gasps. Some of them didn’t appear shocked. Kezin memorised the faces, tried to decide if he’d expect a pretence of shock, or if the killer would have already known. “The killer is also a thief. A crucial letter has been stolen. I expect we’ll find it in the belongings of the one who did the deed. This means that at least one of you is a traitor.” Was that soldier looking down at his feet in shame? “The Senior Arbiter has ordered that we find the killer by dawn. Lieutenant!” His lieutenant started. Kezin took note of that, too. Normally, he would have vouched for his own lieutenant. But in times like this… No, Kezin thought. He held no one at all above suspicion. “I’m leaving you directly in charge of the search efforts. Every hour, I expect all of you to report in on your progress. We are ordered to find the killer even if I must execute every last soldier and servant in the compound.” He gave all of them his most unimpressed glare. “Get me the killer.” QF66: Full River Red Almost two centuries before a boy named Yazad becomes the Emperor of the Eighty Suns, the factions of the Rose Empire see what might very well become the greatest crisis of their time Five years ago, a Striker general was strangled, at dusk. After the eighty splendid suns had set. Dusk was the time for fell deeds, for acts of empire that need not be subject to common scrutiny. The body was burned; the bones scattered, the ashes washed away downriver. There are to be no shrines, no rallying points for dissent. Historians sometimes point to events, draw connections. A stray horse, the loss of a province. Silken strands, from the death of a much-loved general, to the present. A Svordish ambassador is found murdered, hours before a high-level diplomatic meeting with Senior Arbiter Wuzhi of the Discovery Faction. A sensitive letter has gone missing. The current Emperor of the Eighty Suns is ailing, and already, the factions circle like vultures. Wuzhi has ordered the compound locked down. You have until dawn to find the murderer. Water trickles through the clock. May the truth be brought to the light of the eighty suns. General Rules: Win Conditions: Mechanics: Roles: Backgrounds: Quick Links Havon was killed! He was the Svordish Ambassador! Sign-ups are open now and will close on Tuesday, 23rd May 2023, at 0000hrs SGT (GMT +8). Rollovers will take place at the same time. The IM for the game is @Araris Valerian. Please also be reminded to desist from posting in the thread until I can reserve the next post. I will always do so in order to collect both the current player list and the most recent set of rule clarifications for easy access.
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