#he ended up living to 938- the equivalent of 123

[kariachi]

Have you ever wanted to feel for an Incursean? Well do I have the fic for you.

Emperor Yanta’s introduction to ruling.

~~

The problem with a fresh body was it seemed to take forever to burn, or maybe it just felt that way. Yanta could’ve sworn he aged two years between entering the forge and leaving it, wife on one side and younger sister on the other, one for each parent. If his commanding officer could have called for him for any other reason, any at all, he would have taken it, but the loss of his parents- brutally and at the same time… How much could one person take? The only relief was the knowledge that his mother had been long retired from injury, had she died on the front lines he would have been expected to head straight out himself to take her place and seek retribution for the loss.

As it was he stepped out with his remaining family, all three in naught but their mourning bands in the yellow their status allowed, with every intention of returning to his apartments. The knowledge his sister would return to those she had as the youngest shared with their parents alone ached in his back. That she had no fiancé yet to share the burden, that finding her one was now his responsibility. But it was a trouble for another time, when the earliest phases of mourning were done. He would flop over to find her the best he could, as their parents would have wanted.

These were the thoughts in his head as they left, and the ones that fled his mind as soon as he saw two members of the Emperor’s council- in all their war-time colors- and a bevy of Imperial guards. The guards were on high alert, and the councilmembers’ whispered conversation died as they caught sight of them.

“Sir, Madam,” Yanta said as the three of them bowed- mourning or no it was only proper with their status- “excuse us plea-”

“Our Emperor,” one of the councilmembers cut him off as the pair both bowed, nearly touching the ground in their effort to go lower than they had, “we humbly ask you join us in your base apartments.” A deadly heat coursed through his body. Igerra’s family had no tie to the Imperial family- they were chemists and craftpeople mostly, he had married her for her musical skill, not any political gain. Kilneva was the younger and less accomplished of them.

“The Emperor-”

“The flagship was been lost.” Oh. Oh by the Old Gods and the New…

“My cousin Verilin?” She was older than him, her grandfather had been a warhero, her husband from another noble line, surely she-

“Is dead, Your Greatness. The same as your parents are.” The heat grew hotter, panic building. Only Igerra’s support kept him upright.

“What about Vigui?” Also older, he’d helped Yanta prepare for his exams when he went to join the fleet- The other councilmember stepped forward. He noticed now white and blue cloth folded neatly in their arms.

“We don’t come here on a whim,” he said with a pity that earned him a firm look from his companion. One didn’t, one didn’t pity the Emperor. “You are the next in the line.” With that he held out the white cloth he carried, first to Igerra, then to Kilneva. His companion held out the blue to Yanta himself.

“Our Emperor,” she repeated, “if we could bring you to your apartments?”

~~~

Yanta couldn’t have said whether the next several hours passed like years or like seconds. They seemed to flash by, with moments lasting forever with no space in-between. When had he changed into his new mourning band? How many ages could it take to explain the state of the frontline? The food they had given him- sour as death- seemed to vanish in a heartbeat. Leaving Igerra and Kilneva’s sides felt like minutes that would never end.

Emperor. He had never even considered- He was too far down the chain to even consider working his way up. The best he had ever considered was seeing if he could marry a future child back up to the proper nobility. Never had he imagined, it hadn’t even been in his nightmares. They’d given him a drink to stave off nausea before handing him the list of his lost kin- from his predecessor to his parents and every member of the family older and closer to the throne than himself between them. That, plus five warships gone, including the flagship. Several thousand casualties. The Terinia’s Fury captured, along with all the remaining crew.

His council had asked that he make a statement, despite his mourning. Say something to his people in these troubling times, to respond to this the greatest loss the Empire had faced in generations. Yanta refused to do so yet. He had, it could hardly be considered a plan. An intention, moreso. One that would likely gain support for whoever among his remaining kin attempted to take the throne from him. But, it had to be done. For the sake of the Empire and the sake of his family, this sacrifice he made.

Steeling himself, Yanta sent all from the Base Fleet Throne room but a single communications officer, and ordered them to get him through to Emperor Himen.

The minutes felt like hours before the screen on the other end of the room came alive. Himen was also all-but naked, wearing only ribbons and chains in iridescent grey, and for some reason this calmed Yanta, like it put them just a bit more on the same page.

“Emperor Yanta,” Himen said flatly, “congratulations on your new position.”

“It’s quite the impressive one,” Yanta answered, trying to hide his nerves and lack of political training. The way the young officer looked between them like they were two predators facing off didn’t help. “The cost was far too high, however.”

“So I’ve been told.” The elderly Osmosian’s head just barely tilted to one side. “You’ve inherited quite the situation, you know.”

“I’m aware.” Folding his hands over his belly, Yanta held himself high. “I, Emperor Yanta of the Incursean Empire, offer the willing surrender of my forces.” The communications officer fell out of their chair. “I merely humbly ask that the remains of our fleet and its crew be released back to the care of the Empire.”

That was it. There was no going back from such a dishonorable act. Yanta could only hope that the single witness kept the news from moving faster than it might otherwise, and that the time he was giving his people for the extent of the final attack to sink in would convince them in some way.

“I, Emperor Himen of the Osmosian Empire,” came the response, “accept your surrender. We are amenable to returning your ship and your people, provided you pay reparations to the Empire and to Orwedj II, of an amount to be determined once you’ve finished mourning.” It was more leniency than Yanta had expected. As an Emperor during wartime, it was understood he may have to postpone his mourning, but here he was being given an out.

“I can only warn you that I’ve lost a good many kin,” he said, “so that period will be long.”

“You’ve lost a good many kin, so I’m certain you’ll keep your word.” The statement was presented in the same flat tone as the rest, but the threat rang loud and clear. Osmosian forces had assassinated dozens of Incursean nobles in near unison once, they could and would do so again.

Yanta was many things, he was not stupid.

“As soon as how long my mourning period will last has been determined-” It was a lot of math. “-I’ll make sure to send you the end date so our people can schedule the meeting.”

“Good. We will be sending you the skulls of your downed soldiers, all that we can locate, so that they may be interred respectfully as per Incursean cultural practices.” Oh. He hadn’t expected that. They would be able to properly burn them. That- They had expected they would have to be mourned as lost. Surely Terinia’s Fury didn’t have the facilities to burn them all herself.

“Thank you, Emperor Himen. Your mercy is boundless.” That was right, right? It wouldn’t insult them?

“You’re welcome.” Thank the Gods, Old and New. “Your people and ship will be released as soon as I have that date.”

“Within the day, I promise you.” He wanted those people safely back within the borders of the Empire as soon as possible. There was no need for more to suffer for a war they were never going to win. “I believe that is all for now, unless you have something more to bring to my attention?” Himen didn’t argue. “Then I must speak to my people so that I may return to my mourning. I can hope you understand.”

“At my age,” Himen answered, “you come to understand it very well. May the memories of the dead bring peace.”

“And may your days be full and hearty.” With something that wasn’t enough to be a nod, both rulers gestured, and the screen went dark.

The communications officer stared at him. Yanta shut his eyes, took a moment.

“Call in my council and my household,” he ordered, beating down the nerves that still were firing wildly, “and prepare for an address to the Empire at whole.”

“Y-yes, Your Greatness.”

They wouldn’t accept it, he was certain. To surrender, it was unthinkable. Hanien would never- Hanien was dead. Yanta was going to be dead and replaced with somebody more fitting for the position, that he was certain. With so many people to mourn, he’d get a handful of months at least before he burned, but he would. Hopefully after he managed to arrange the restitution payments.

He thought of his dead soldiers. Watching his parents burn. Kilneva alone in her apartments.

Yanta opened his eyes. Watched his council and guard return to the chamber. Waited on his wife.

The sacrifice would be worth it.