NationStates Jolt Archive

The opening of the Council of Khans is traditionally the most glittering of all the formal occasions of the cycle of ceremonies and banquets attendant upon the opening of the Imperial Diet. The winter capital is full with the nobility of the empire all competing with each other to throw the most extravagant party and to dress themselves at all occasions in the most costly of clothing. They would be at their most resplendent today.

Tamerlane, Khan of Samarkand and Bhukhara, Grand Chancellor of the Empire stands in the chamber of the chancellors in the Halls of the Imperial Diet being dressed by servants. He feels elated. His speech last night at the opening of the Council of Autonomous States and Regions had had the desired effect of signaling a radical new turn in his government's policy. The revelation that he intended to remove all official powers from the Dowager Empress and that her position as president of the Imperial Diet and Minister without portfolio were an ugly remnant of the harem politics of the empire's distant past had so far been greeted, for the most part, with muted shock.

Those cheering crowds who had gathered in their hundreds of thousands to welcome him home from Uzgen after his "illness" were not to be disappointed, he would reshape the landscape of power in the empire and fulfill his mandate.

The only fly in the Grand Chancellor's ointment was the interview which Nogai the minister for Foreign Affairs, leader of the Huspadet party, had given to the Khwarizmian Monitor after Tamerlane's speech, in which he had cast Tamerlane as an iconoclast and a vandal only interested in silencing opposition and destroying the excellent provisions for good governance which had served the empire so well for so long to satisfy his personal vanity.

"Vanity!" Thinks Tamerlane, "And this from the empire's most pompous, most posturing and most self regarding politician, who spends millions on advertising his charisma and power! Presuming the entire empire to be peopled with fools who cannot not see his worthlessness and avarice."

And now Tamerlane would have to stand side by side with the Khan of Tabagatai in the presence of the Emperor and smile as though they were good friends and close colleagues.

These rare glimpses of his Divine Majesty were nerve rattling enough, and with so many of the empire's great and good in attendance today having to make nice with Nogai was going to be very trying indeed. And then there was the little matter of her August Majesty the Dowager Empress who would also be here today, most Urgenchi politicians would be soiling themselves with fear at the prospect of her displeasure being displayed at such an important and public occasion. Not Tamerlane though, he had waited all his career for this moment.

His assistant, Shiramon of Lukchun, places tiny slow release scent patches containing, Oris root, White Musk and Narcissus and a tiny does of the mildly narcotic chemical Bengenate behind Tamerlane's ears. Tamerlane is looking forward to the Bengenate taking effect, he would need it.

Shiramon then places long ropes of rubies and pearls the size of plover's eggs around his masters neck and the tall sable cap of office upon Tamerlane's head.

Tamerlane reflects that in a few moments he will have to host the glitterati of the empire and make small talk with them in the vast circular vestibule of the Founder on to which the chambers of the Diet open and which contains the giant 20 meter high equestrian statue of Tengri Khaghan. At the same time in the chamber of the Council of Khans the Emperor and his mother will ceremonially purify the space and unseal the Golden Book in which the votes of the khan's are tallied and intone the names of all the Khans who would be entitled to sit in this session.

Then when the Emperor was finished his ceremonial duties he and his mother would enter the Vestibule of the Founder and on receiving his obeisence would hand Tamerlane the keys to the doors of the Chamber of the Council of Khans and importantly it would not be the hand of the Emperor which would give Tamerlane the keys, none but a member of the Imperial family could be so close to the Emperor, it would be the Dowager Empress's hand. Tamerlane would have to bow and receive the keys from the one woman in all the Empire who would most dearly wish his destruction.


Tamerlane adjusts his cap of office and makes his way to the Vestibule of the Founder.

The air in the Vestibule of the Founder shimmers with costly perfumes and the smoke of rare incenses. The vast circular chamber's purple and green marble walls are swathed in garlands of dark purple wild tulips ( the flower of the steppe ) and the floors have been laid with the silk carpets of Persia.

The staff of the office of the president of the Imperial Diet wait anxiously as the first aristocrats and dignitaries arrive. The aristocrats in particular are splendidly arrayed in the finest silks and furs, they glitter with gems and precious stones like birds of paradise. Most are happy to take a glass of warm Haoma, the formerly sacramental drink which is only served for occasions when the Emperor will be present.

Censers filled with frankinsense from Dilmun have been arranged all around the huge plinth upon which stands the colossal statue of Tengri Khaghan on horseback.


Duqtunor of Uch-Turfan, first secretary of the office of the president of the Imperial Diet notices the arrival of the Grand Chancellor and is instinctively uneasy. His mistress, the Dowager Empress Sorghakhtani, President of the Imperial Diet is darkly and ineffably enraged by this upstart's pretension to power and is even more disgusted by his attempts to remove her from offices and influence.

He walks over to the Grand Chancellor's assistant Shiramon of Lukchun.

" So presumably the Grand Chancellor is drinking water from a vessel he brought with him today, eh Shiramon?" He smiles as he asks the young servant.

"Ha! perhaps he is Duqtunor" Shiramon laughs, " But perhaps her August Majesty would be expected to be less indiscreet than to have him poisoned in front of the eyes of the Empire!"

"She is fond of teaching by example Shiramon, and nothing is completely beyond the ambition of the Dowager" Duqtunor laughs also but more nervously, being only mostly sure that all will go well today.

Duqtunor walks away from Shiramon and towards the doors of the chamber of the Council of Khans. These 15 meter high doors, carved from cedar of Lebanon, are inlaid all over in mother of pearl, hard stones and gold and silver wire, depicting in intricate and lifelike detail the battle of Damascus at which the incomparable founder of the empire Tengri Khaghan finally died. The images on the doors also showed the endless funeral cortege in which the captains of Tengri's army bore his body back through the great cities of the empire, these captains were the ancestors of the great Khanly families of the Urgench. The final scenes on the door showed these loyal proto-Khans interring their mighty leader in the vast Kurgan or burial mound which stood to this day on the outskirts of Karakorum.

Duqtunor looks about and realises that no one is observing him, and so he presses his ear to the key hole. Listening intently, he can just make out the low hum of ceremonial chant and the rustle of silks from within.

"They would have cut your ears off for that in less enlightened times Duqtunor!" , Duqtunor nearly has a myocardial infarction as he turns quickly to see the sharply beautiful and slyly smiling face of princess Irultaini of Jend.

" Your Serene Highness.. I erm.. I.." Duqtunor stutters.

"Calm yourself Duqtunor, I'm joking. My father gave me the same fright the first time he brought me to the Opening and caught me doing the same thing." The Princess laughs quietly. Duqtunor calms enough to realise just how beautiful she is and how spectacularly she is dressed. Her face shows her family's mongol heritage but with a strong admixture of Persian and Turk and perhaps a touch of Circassian too which would explain her startling blue eyes. Irultaini's long brown hair is curled artfully and crowned with the coronet of Jend which is set with the sapphires her ancestor was said to have received from Empress Uzgurtani, they are the size of Kumquats and perfectly spherical.
The princess's gown is long and flowing with tight sleeves and the high shoulders which are fashionable at the moment with aristocratic women, it is crimson and teal and of heavy watered silk trimmed with musquash which these days comes from Siberia and not the Americas.

" I'm not sure my wife would have found it funny your Serene Highness, if i had suffered the heart attack you nearly provoked." Duqtunor composes himself and bows deeply to the princess.

" Indeed I imagine she would not Duqtunor, please convey my apologies to her if the stress has shortened your life. Now do lets talk of other things. I am anxious to know whether or not I should have my Troika be ready as soon as his Divine Majesty leaves, will the August Dowager be staying long after he departs?"

Duqtunor knew what she was really asking, Irultaini was wondering if Sorghakhtani had indicated to him that she would be publicly snubbing the Grand Chancellor by leaving the instant that formalities had been completed.

"Well, your Serene Highness is welcome to leave when ever she wishes. I am certain her August Majesty will not be displeased if you leave before her. She has not indicated to me that she has any strong wish to see you. "

"Now now Duqtunor, there's no need to be pettish. I am merely hoping to show the Dowager Empress a politeness which doubtless will become quaint and old fashioned quite soon. It seems that the plans of Tamerlane will make such deference antiquated and unnecessary, my dynasty's loyalty to her will be scorned and of no avail." Irultaini laughs and one of her earrings, a dragon set with with rubies, releases perfume and phenylethylamines, drenching her in the fragrance of black Orchid, violets and Oud wood while increasing her intoxication.

"You should prepare for the future Duqtunor" She says as she walks away.

Duqtunor is irritated by her implication that the Dowager is already a figment of political history and that those who have been loyal to her should seek the patronage of those who would usurp her power. He notes that Irultaini made a point of saying that her dynasty had been loyal to the Dowager but not that Irultaini herself was. Irultaini's father had been an ardent partisan of Sorghakhtani when she was Empress in the reign of Qabul Khaghan and had remained so till his death 20 years ago. Irultaini had been ruling her tiny city state since then ( entirely from her delicate little palace in Tabriz apparently ) and was known to be out of favour with the court of the Dowager, though no one knew exactly why.

Duqtunor hurries on about his business, the Minister for the Arts has just arrived and will be anxious to see him.

Outside the halls of the Imperial Diet a large black state Troika arrives, it is drawn by eight black horses with tiny silver emblems and charms in their manes which jingle as they draw to a halt and rear their heads, they snort and paw the ground with their hooves which are shod in silver snow shoes.

The door opens and two figures step out, one is swathed in a black hooded cloak the other is a noble woman dressed in a dark green brocade, Persian style dress, tight fitting to the knee from whence it flows out to cover a large area and many long ropes of pearls, surmounting her tightly drawn up, black hair is a diadem made form Rhodium and diamonds.

She is unmistakably Uanhartan princess of Nakhchevan the wife of the emperor's eldest younger brother prince Kharonn who has been in disgrace ever since Kharonn and the other younger brothers of the Emperor succeeded in their plot to overthrow their father Qabul Khaghan and put their eldest brother on the throne prematurely. Kharonn and the other imperial princes were never tried for any crimes but they were exiled from court and sent to govern some of the empire's most far flung provinces. Prince Kharonn has been in arctic Siberia for many many decades and his wife has not seen the capitals for all that time.

The princess of Nakhchevan looks older and prouder than she did before her departure to the frozen north but she is still strikingly beautiful. She accepts the hand of a staff member and climbs the stairs to the Vestibule of the founder. Her companion follows a short distance behind her remaining hooded and anonymous.

The Duke of Kimunggo had never, not in his wildest dreams, ever imagined that he would have been assigned as ambassador to a nation as rich and devoted to the allure of ceremony and excess as the Empire of Urgench. He considered, briefly, as his carriage went on its pulled by a team of purebred horses of the highest calibre, what his mother would have said if she were still alive to see him sitting in the lap of luxury, the guest of the great Khans, all on the dime of the Sargedain government.

She would probably have called him a lazy freeloader. He cursed her.

He ran his finger over the embroidered hem of his elaborate surcoat, spun of the finest silk and laced with silver filament, the deep crimson dye a brilliant backdrop against the patterns of dancing dragons. The soft rabbit-fur lining of his collar splayed out over his shoulders, the only part of his ensemble that had come from his homeland in Bae. He adjusted his dangling ornaments of jade and precious stones, enjoying his wealth and fortune.

"The Yehenara clan would die if they saw the state you are arriving in."

He looked up with a smile at his aide and companion. "They will say that Mengge Šingedaruhan is more opulent even than the Niuhuru."

"We should be wary, though. The nobles here will not look with mercy upon breach of ritual; they have benefits not afforded to the elected officials in the Five Regions."

"I am attending to pay my respects as an ambassador, and to observe the peculiarities of their government system, my friend, and I have chosen to do it with a measure of style."

"Bajeong style, of Urgenchi material and Urgenchi construction! What a laugh we will have imagining the look on Prince Bai's face when he realizes our clothing is twice as exquisite and half as expensive as his!"

"I will certainly be the most fashionable Duke of Kimunggo since Tahjilmur's time."

"You could also be the most unfortunate if you don't take my warnings seriously- we can't fall into the trap of thinking the Urgenchi as one-dimensional. Grandeur often hides an intellect."

The ambassador looked out the window of the carriage, frowning.

"I am not so stupid. When we arrive, we will do what is necessary for Snefaldia."

O.O.C. Hi Snef! Glad you've joined in :)



As princess Uanhartan of Nakhchevan and her hooded companion enter the vestibule of the Founder the chorus of whispered conversation of those already present dies down. No one turns and stares, that would be very bad manners, but the sense in which the eyes of the room are trained on this magnificent Armenian woman is palpable.

She has arrived earlier than most of the other high magnates of the empire, which is unusual but that is not the reason Uanhartan is the centre of attention. As she helps herself to a jewel encrusted, golden cup of haoma, she is aware that after many decades of absence from the Council of Khans her presence here is a statement of solidarity with the Dowager Empress, who's favourite son Uanhartan's husband once was.

It was Uanhartan's intention to make this statement, to stamp the imprint of the imperial family's unity on this ceremony. She bows her head in discreet reverence to the great statue of Tengri Khaghan as she passes it.

But a secondary reason makes Uanhartan's presence a matter of interest. Her principality was not one of those given any autonomy by the treaty of Derbent, and her long absence from Nakhchevan has prompted its people to look for more direct rulership, rulership free from the obligation to observe the will of the Imperial court should its leader fall out of favour as Uanhartan did when her husband was exiled to the arctic circle. The result was a plebiscite organised by the stewards of Uanhartan's house, which offered Nakhchevan three choices, the first was complete democratisation combined with the removal of Uanhartan's family as rulers and a petition to the Divan for autonomy. The second was unification with the principality of Tiphlis, one of Hithum of Zanjan's possessions and the opportunity to throw Nakhchevan's lot in with one of the empires most wealthy and influential autonomous states. The third option was a declaration of Nakhchevani autonomy ( on the model of Zanjan ) under the rule of Uanhartan and a request that the Imperial government invite Uanhartan back from her voluntary exile with her husband.

Naturally this plebiscite had no official standing and the Imperial government could disregard its outcome, but the nature of this particular vote was rather too controversial to completely ignore. No one was certain that the plebiscite had been held in accordance with the strictest democratic standards, and the stewards of the princes of Nakhchevan held enough respect in the principality to sway the vote in which ever way they wished. None the less 58% of the people of Nakhchevan had voted in favour of autonomy under Uanhartan, 29% had voted for unification with Tiphlis and the final 13% had opted for deposition of Uanhartan.

This vote was extremely inconvenient for the Divan, it suggested that the overwhelming majority of the citizens of Nakhchevan either wanted to increase the power of one of the empire's most mercurial and most powerful and wealthy princes in the person of Hithum of Zanjan or they wanted to humiliate the Imperial court and reinstate their princess at the heart of power and under circumstances which would allow her husband, the exiled parricide prince Kharonn, to dwell within half a days journey of Tabriz.


So far this ugly dilemma had not been addressed by a divan consumed with the great work assigned to it in other areas by the all consuming Grand Chancellor, but Uanhartan's presence here indicated that Nakhchevan could no longer be over looked.


Uanhartan and her companion walk among the quietened lesser nobles and dignitaries in an island of respect and curiosity.

Outside the Halls of the Imperial Diet snow begins to fall from a steely grey sky as more carriages and Troika begin to arrive.

"What is that woman doing here Shiramon!?", the Grand Chancellor hisses at his assistant " Why did you not tell me she would be attending?"

" I did not know she would be, I don't think anybody did", Shiramon says with concern at his master's slightly hysterical tone.

"Oh god Shiramon! The wolves are closing in around me. Uanhartan will assist her mother in law and bring about my downfall! Oh god. My Trachichoma is agonising me, I shall be humiliated and wracked with pain Shiramon and it is your fault." , Tamerlane moans sounding like a petulant child.

" Honoured Khan, her Imperial Highness the Princess of Nakhchevan's presence is a sideshow, if you'll forgive me. She can hardly expect to hold any sway in a court she has not visited in half a lifetime and she has no natural constituency or any real support."

" But the Nakhchevanis clamour for her re-installation at court as the ruler of an autonomous principality Shiramon!"

" Were you less excitable than you understandably are today honoured Khan, you yourself would say that all the fuss in Nakhchevan is meaningless. You would berate me and say that the machinations of the Princess's household servants had little or nothing at all to do with real politics. Doubtless you would tell me that she had sown the seeds of her own undoing in the plebiscite of the Nakhchevani. You would tell me that the only policy the Divan could have on the matter could be to comply with the democratic will of the people, give Nakhchevan its autonomy. You would go on to say that the terms would include Uanhartan's re-installation, but that in the interests of Nakhchevan the Imperial government would have to make her crown inalienable to her dynasty since otherwise it would devolve onto a nephew of his Divine Majesty and could therefore not be considered truly independent and that since her Imperial Highness is only the eldest of the children of her father by his second wife the crown of Nakhchevan would have to devolve on her death to the children of her Imperial highness's half sister Princess Eruen.

You would further expound that since Uanhartan would not submit to disinheriting her beloved son and more importantly would never make her husband a mere consort that she would refuse this offer and in doing so would expose herself as a power grabbing hypocrite completely uninterested in the happiness of her people ( who she has not visited in decades ) and their putative self rule. On realising this, you would say honoured Khan, the people of Nakhchevan would turn their backs on their selfish princess and her shameful husband who would both have to skulk back to the arctic circle with their tails between their legs for another half lifetime. "

" Thank you Shiramon, it was the best work I ever did in employing you. I am lucky that you know my mind so well and know best how to remind me of my own perspicacity. Remind me to reward you better for your loyalty in future " Tamerlane looks considerably calmer after the soothing words of his assistant.

" Service of so noble a man is its own reward honoured Khan" Shiramon half smiles at his own flattery, but he is used to the judicious use of sycophancy as the treatment for his master's skittish but inspired temperament.

Tamerlane smiles and bows to the Maharajah of Hardwar who approaches to pay his respects.

Archbishop Salyar Contolar smiled at his Personal Assistant, Monsignor Robert Harley, as the carriage they were travelling in sped up. It was not just a friendly smile, but a reassuring one - Monsignor Harley did not travel well. However, the Archbishop had chosen his P.A wisely as Monsignor Harley was a good worker.

Contolar looked out of the window. He loved being Ambassador to Urgench. The country was so rich in culture and it's society was one of the most liberal in the world with it being famous for Civil Rights. He gasped at one of the buildings the carriage passed. It's architecture was amazing - he would have to tell the Lord Patriarch about it.

However, the Archbishop has more pressing matters at hand. The state of Urgench has invited him to the Opening of the Council of Khans - a prestigious honour. And, in order to match the occasion, he has worn his best robes - given to him by the Lord Patriarch. The crimson of the robes stood out against the white silk interior of the carriage like blood on a cloud. He had left the traditional chain in the Embassy - He felt it would be out of place at such an important gathering. He raised his hand and made sure his 'skull cap' was still placed firmly on his head. He raised his right hand to his face and let his lips rest on his emerald ring - a ring given to all archbishops each engraved with his own personal ensignia. Contolar glanced back at his Monsignor.

"Monsignor, how are you feeling?", the Archbishop enquired. It was, this time, not just a question about his health, but his nerves in regards to the event.

"I am feeling better, Your Grace, however, I am nervous about this evening. It is our first official State Function. I do hope everything goes well", he replied, looing back out of the window.

"As do I, let the grace of God be with us both", the Archbishop said, blessing himself accordingly, as did Monsignor Harley.

The Duke of Kimunggo had never, not in his wildest dreams, ever imagined that he would have been assigned as ambassador to a nation as rich and devoted to the allure of ceremony and excess as the Empire of Urgench. He considered, briefly, as his carriage went on its pulled by a team of purebred horses of the highest calibre, what his mother would have said if she were still alive to see him sitting in the lap of luxury, the guest of the great Khans, all on the dime of the Sargedain government.

She would probably have called him a lazy freeloader. He cursed her.

He ran his finger over the embroidered hem of his elaborate surcoat, spun of the finest silk and laced with silver filament, the deep crimson dye a brilliant backdrop against the patterns of dancing dragons. The soft rabbit-fur lining of his collar splayed out over his shoulders, the only part of his ensemble that had come from his homeland in Bae. He adjusted his dangling ornaments of jade and precious stones, enjoying his wealth and fortune.

"The Yehenara clan would die if they saw the state you are arriving in."

He looked up with a smile at his aide and companion. "They will say that Mengge Šingedaruhan is more opulent even than the Niuhuru."

"We should be wary, though. The nobles here will not look with mercy upon breach of ritual; they have benefits not afforded to the elected officials in the Five Regions."

"I am attending to pay my respects as an ambassador, and to observe the peculiarities of their government system, my friend, and I have chosen to do it with a measure of style."

"Bajeong style, of Urgenchi material and Urgenchi construction! What a laugh we will have imagining the look on Prince Bai's face when he realizes our clothing is twice as exquisite and half as expensive as his!"

"I will certainly be the most fashionable Duke of Kimunggo since Tahjilmur's time."

"You could also be the most unfortunate if you don't take my warnings seriously- we can't fall into the trap of thinking the Urgenchi as one-dimensional. Grandeur often hides an intellect."

The ambassador looked out the window of the carriage, frowning.

"I am not so stupid. When we arrive, we will do what is necessary for Snefaldia."




The arrival of the Snefaldian ambassador is a welcome distraction from the air of tension surrounding Princess Uanhartan. The Duke of Kimunggo cuts a splendid figure in his exotic costume and costly jewels.

Tamerlane mentioned to his nephew, the dashing and handsome young Jorightu Temur, Khan of Sechen-Mandalborun that the Snefaldian Ambassador might be coming and he makes his way over to the Duke and his companion.

" Your Grace, I am Jorightu Temur Khan, please let me welcome you to the vestibule of the founder and to the Empire also" ,Jorightu smiles and bows his head slightly in the manner of an Urgenchi noble. He reaches into the golden reticule on his belt and produces a small gold cloisonne Swallow with a tiny carved Emerald beetle in its beak, the beetle is a vinaigrette, he hands it to the Duke of Kimunggo.

"It is customary with us to give a small token of esteem to an honoured guest who has traveled far to be here, such is the swallow which comes from far away and heralds summer. It contains rare essences of holy Orchids and white musks from the Himalayas." ,Jorightu guides the Ambassador and his companion to the tables where the Haoma is being served in the golden cups set with opals and cabochon which Emperor Ayurshiridar commissioned for this ceremony from large crystal ewers carved with griffin's head spouts.

" Your Grace please wont you have some Haoma, it is the hospitality of his Divine Majesty" ,Jorightu Smiles winningly and hands the Snefaldians the rare and precious elixir. Warmed, it is aromatic and honeyed with an indescribable flavour and effect.

" Your Grace's costume is magnificent, if you don't mind me saying so. I recognise the weave but the cut and design will be a revelation at court you will undoubtedly start a new fashion, all the nobles will be dressed a la Snefaldia at their Balls and banquets in the coming weeks. We are great admirers of all that is exquisite and novel, you will be swamped with invitations during this season." ,Jorightu sips his Hoama, his own smart but demur black silk uniform befits his current position in the service of his uncle the Grand Chancellor, but he wears the spectacular moonstone chaplet which is the treasure of his house and his damascened scimitar is a family heirloom, a priceless gift for stout service to his ancestor who served the revered Empress Uzgurtani during the Tang wars.


Outside more and more magnificent state Troika and carriages are arriving as the greatest magnates, high officers of state and foreign envoys arrive fashionably late. The snow is falling thickly now. Staff wheel in large braziers containing hot coals upon which they scatter amber and malabathrum to warm and further perfume the huge chamber.

The Princes of Muscovy arrive as usual en mass wearing their long fur coats and tall fur hats and richly embroidered tunics. The Turko-Mongol princes of Jagatai, and Khwarizmia join them swathed in silks and rhodium jewelry looking for all the world like Achaemenid kings. Queens and Khanum, and Princesses all crowd into the vestibule of the Founder, all are like rare birds of paradise in clothe of gold and Tatung silks, their royal adornments show every singular and spectacular rarity of the earth or the sea. The wave after wave of perfume which all Urgenchis prize above all other things is bewildering. Rose of every kind, Shizu, Golden lotus, Andean violet, peony, musk and ambergris swirl in the air like heat haze. The whispered buzz of conversation becomes louder but in such a way as to lull rather than excite, and the whole experience is dreamlike and surreal.

Singedaruhan gave his appropriate bow, accepting the gift of the Khan and the offer of his drink.

"I cannot believe that the costume of my humble homeland could be so interesting to the myriad court here; each person is an orchid of a different shape and hue. I confess the tailors of your many provinces outdo even the best suppliers of the Royal Clan in Pholimjung; the Imperial Patriarch of the Bajeong people would be stunned to be so out-dressed."

In Bajhua, he chattered quickly to his aide.

"<Send a runner to the embassy, and have him return with the Inquisitor. That librarian should be here to write all this down and be fawned upon.>"

Returning his attention to Tamerlane's nephew, he smiled. "My wife will be quite thrilled to have galas to attend, if your indication is indeed more than flattery. I will consider it "cultural exchange" in the service of my government at Sargedain."

Archbishop Salyar Contolar smiled at his Personal Assistant, Monsignor Robert Harley, as the carriage they were travelling in sped up. It was not just a friendly smile, but a reassuring one - Monsignor Harley did not travel well. However, the Archbishop had chosen his P.A wisely as Monsignor Harley was a good worker.

Contolar looked out of the window. He loved being Ambassador to Urgench. The country was so rich in culture and it's society was one of the most liberal in the world with it being famous for Civil Rights. He gasped at one of the buildings the carriage passed. It's architecture was amazing - he would have to tell the Lord Patriarch about it.

However, the Archbishop has more pressing matters at hand. The state of Urgench has invited him to the Opening of the Council of Khans - a prestigious honour. And, in order to match the occasion, he has worn his best robes - given to him by the Lord Patriarch. The crimson of the robes stood out against the white silk interior of the carriage like blood on a cloud. He had left the traditional chain in the Embassy - He felt it would be out of place at such an important gathering. He raised his hand and made sure his 'skull cap' was still placed firmly on his head. He raised his right hand to his face and let his lips rest on his emerald ring - a ring given to all archbishops each engraved with his own personal ensignia. Contolar glanced back at his Monsignor.

"Monsignor, how are you feeling?", the Archbishop enquired. It was, this time, not just a question about his health, but his nerves in regards to the event.

"I am feeling better, Your Grace, however, I am nervous about this evening. It is our first official State Function. I do hope everything goes well", he replied, looing back out of the window.

"As do I, let the grace of God be with us both", the Archbishop said, blessing himself accordingly, as did Monsignor Harley.




Through the throng Princess Junchirun of Imil sees the Ambassador for Sanctaria and his assistant arrive. She weaves through the other guests, stately in her silver and purple gown with its huge bell shaped skirt billowing out around her. The electrum and rhodium beads which hang in profusion from her elaborately dressed hair click and sway as she approaches the Archbishop. To look at her one would think she is still young, but she has attended this ceremony dozens and dozens of times in her long life. The glowing preternatural youth ( common among Urgenchis ) is the result of a regimen of Dew drugs and antholite injections which keep her young and extend her life considerably. The princess presses the electrum and spinel broach on her chest and a cloud of golden mist envelopes her in the scent of peach blossom, Gardenia and coumarin.

"Your Grace how do you do I am Junchirun" She purrs as she curtsies deeply, "Father Harley I believe?" she says as she rights herself and addresses the Monsignor.

"Welcome to Urgench, I do hope the cold is not too great a shock." She waves at her servant who is nearby and carries an ivory box with silver ornaments. " A gift for your Grace" the Princess says, " An incense which is made for me by my apothecary, it contains Sienlun bark and Heliotropin. Shall we take some Haoma?"

* * *

Outside the proudest and most extravagant of the nobles are arriving.

Hithum of Zanjan, in his monstrous golden troika carved all over in high relief with the rearing bull of Zanjan and drawn by oxen with gilded horns, draws up. Hithum's endlessly flowing sky blue and red and burnt sienna robes tumble out behind him to be grasped by servants dressed in sky blue tunics and red and orange turbans as he steps out of his troika, others carry parasols to keep the snow off the prince. The Prince of Zanjan's new triple tiered tiara is set with sapphires and aventurine and coral the last to signify his new dominion over the Empire's seas. A page walks before him with a censer wafting incense. Hithum's skin glistens with pearl dust and anthioethylamines.

If wealth and pomp are power in Urgench then Hithum wants all to know exactly how powerful he is. He is aware that this evening will be a test of his skills a politician and that his loyalties will be under immense scrutiny and that his position at the pinnacle of influence might be lost in a moment.

" If I'm to fall tonight I want to fall in splendour and never be forgotten" he said before arriving to his long suffering assistant Mr. Andashi. Andashi had said nothing but his face was a picture of studied calm disguising his misgivings.

* * *

Jorightu and the Duke of Kimunggo have wandered towards the statue of Tengri Khaghan.

" Oh please believe me, it is no flattery to say that your Grace's calender will be full in the next couple of months. The combination of Imperial policy and the delight in all things new and foreign will prove intoxicating to most of those with a stake in government, you will be feted. It will be a productive time I am sure."

Jorightu looks across the chamber and sees the spectacular entrance of the Prince of Zanjan, " Ah I believe you know of Hithum of Zanjan your Grace, we must go and talk to him in a minute. How have you been finding the Rang Mahal by the way ? I was taken there as a child once, I remember it being very beautiful. I hope it hasn't been proving hard to heat "

The Archbishop smiled as the Princess strode confidently towards him and the Monsignor. He bowed as she curtsied. He smiled at the Monsignor to do the same, which he then did. He laughed slightly as the Princess remarked about the weather. He was used to the cold having often holidayed in ski resorts on one of the peaks of the Hybriines - Sanctaria's Mountain Range.

"Thank you for your lovely welcome, Your Highness, and for your lovely gifts. No need to worry about us feeling the cold, I have some ermines in my carriage and Father Harley here has some furs too", he said assuringly. "I do hope you are not cold, I can send for some furs if you wish?"

Monsignor Harley stepped forward, "Excuse me My Grace, Your Highness, I shall be back in a moment, with the furs, of course." Salyar nodded dismissively. Harley didn't need to ask for permission.

The Archbishop turned back to the Princess. "So tell me Your Highness, what is this which you call Haoma?"

Before she could answer, however, Monsigor Harley arrived back with some furs and an odd box. "Ah, thank you Father, I would have forgotten", the Archbishop exclaimed as he took the box from him. He turned to the Princess once more.

"Your Highness Princess Junchirun of Imil, I present you this gift from the Lord Patriarch on behalf of the people of Sanctaria". Contolar had reviewed the people who would be here and instantly knew that Junchirun was a Princess. He opened the box. Inside, there was a green silk liing and, resting on the silk, a huge, vivid green emerald - the kind Sanctaria was reknowed for. "The People of Sanctaria wish to give you this small token."

The Archbishop smiled as the Princess strode confidently towards him and the Monsignor. He bowed as she curtsied. He smiled at the Monsignor to do the same, which he then did. He laughed slightly as the Princess remarked about the weather. He was used to the cold having often holidayed in ski resorts on one of the peaks of the Hybriines - Sanctaria's Mountain Range.

"Thank you for your lovely welcome, Your Highness, and for your lovely gifts. No need to worry about us feeling the cold, I have some ermines in my carriage and Father Harley here has some furs too", he said assuringly. "I do hope you are not cold, I can send for some furs if you wish?"

Monsignor Harley stepped forward, "Excuse me My Grace, Your Highness, I shall be back in a moment, with the furs, of course." Salyar nodded dismissively. Harley didn't need to ask for permission.

The Archbishop turned back to the Princess. "So tell me Your Highness, what is this which you call Haoma?"

Before she could answer, however, Monsigor Harley arrived back with some furs and an odd box. "Ah, thank you Father, I would have forgotten", the Archbishop exclaimed as he took the box from him. He turned to the Princess once more.

"Your Highness Princess Junchirun of Imil, I present you this gift from the Lord Patriarch on behalf of the people of Sanctaria". Contolar had reviewed the people who would be here and instantly knew that Junchirun was a Princess. He opened the box. Inside, there was a green silk liing and, resting on the silk, a huge, vivid green emerald - the kind Sanctaria was reknowed for. "The People of Sanctaria wish to give you this small token."



"your Grace does me too great an honor I am bereft of words to express my gratitude. The gem is magnificent and such a deep colour! " Junchirun handles the gem and clasps it to her breast, her dark brown eyes glitter as she puts it back in its box and indicates to her servant that it must be put safely away.

She smiles as the Monsignor places a fur about her shoulders. " thank you Father , your Excellencies must have some Haoma, it is the drink which is served for occasions when the Emperor will be present. It is extremely beautiful but quite indescribable." They walk to where the Haoma is being served and the princess hands the diplomats their gold and bejeweled cups of the warm honeyed, aromatic liquid.

"How do you find it? and how do your excellencies find the winter capital? " She asks while keeping one eye on the movements of the prince of Zanjan.

The Archbishop bowed as he took a cup. As he rose the cup to his mouth, he nodded to his P.A. to do the same. He smiled before taking a sip. He had never tasted anything like it. He let it rest in his mouth for a time before swallowing it - the liquid flowed down his throat smoothly, like a fine wine. "My Lady, it is wonderful", he said as soon as he had finished. "And the winter capital is simply divine. It has the most wonderful architecture."

"Excuse me, my lady", said Monsignor Harley, "But, will we, or rather, will His Grace the Archbishop be meeting with the Emperor?"

Immediately the Archbishop started coughing. "I do apologise my lady, for my assisstant's ignorance. Of course we do not expect to have a meeting with the Emperor and I wish to have no pressure on him to do so."

The Archbishop bowed as he took a cup. As he rose the cup to his mouth, he nodded to his P.A. to do the same. He smiled before taking a sip. He had never tasted anything like it. He let it rest in his mouth for a time before swallowing it - the liquid flowed down his throat smoothly, like a fine wine. "My Lady, it is wonderful", he said as soon as he had finished. "And the winter capital is simply divine. It has the most wonderful architecture."

"Excuse me, my lady", said Monsignor Harley, "But, will we, or rather, will His Grace the Archbishop be meeting with the Emperor?"

Immediately the Archbishop started coughing. "I do apologise my lady, for my assisstant's ignorance. Of course we do not expect to have a meeting with the Emperor and I wish to have no pressure on him to do so."




" We shall all see his Divine Majesty briefly, Monsignor Harley, when he and his August Mother the Dowager Empress give the keys to the chamber of the council of Khans to the Grand Chancellor. But I'm afraid no one who is not a member of the Imperial family or a member of his Household is ever lucky enough to actually meet him personally." She smiles indulgently,

"But I suspect you will have more business with our head of government, his Excellency Tamerlane, the khan of Samarkand and Bhukhara, our Grand Chancellor. It is he who guides the empire and directs its government. His divine Majesty is held in the deepest of respect but he is not looked to for the exercise of power.

Tamerlane will be glad to speak with you and peeved that I have monopolised your Excellencies, shall I conduct you to him?"

The minute patches behind Junchirun's ears release more fragrances and she is suddenly covered in the smell of Osmanthus, Tibu wood and orange flower. the secondary dose of lactonic phenylethylamines also releases making her whole body shiver with pleasure.

The Archbishop bowed slightly. "Of course, my lady, I would not suspect His Highness to do so. As for the latter, if the Grand Chancellor is upset by our tardiness, I shall tell him it is not your fault. We were the ones who kept you talking". He smiled at the Princess as a sweet smell came wafting towards him.

"My Lady", said Father Harley, "Is there anything we should know before meeting the Grand Chancellor?"

The Archbishop bowed slightly. "Of course, my lady, I would not suspect His Highness to do so. As for the latter, if the Grand Chancellor is upset by our tardiness, I shall tell him it is not your fault. We were the ones who kept you talking". He smiled at the Princess as a sweet smell came wafting towards him.

"My Lady", said Father Harley, "Is there anything we should know before meeting the Grand Chancellor?"




"Only that his Excellency is currently tremendously popular with the citizens of the empire but distinctly not so with some senior members of the Imperial family.

At the opening of the Council of Autonomous States and Regions last night, he gave a speech in which he outlined how he would deprive her August Majesty the Dowager Empress of her official powers. It is she who will take the keys of the Chamber of the Council of the Khans from the Emperor later and give them to Tamerlane.

Her August Majesty usually stays behind after the Emperor leaves, to mingle with the crowd and to spread the balm of her favour, I imagine Tamerlane is rather afraid that she will snub him and leave with the Emperor." the Princess sips her Haoma.

A servant coughs quietly and says, "Your Serene Highness, the Grand Chancellor approaches"

Junchirun pretends to be insouciant. " Your Excellencies it appears the Grand Chancellor is eager to see you. "


Tamerlane smiles and bows to the Sanctarian diplomats as he walks up to them. He is small and unusually middle aged looking, in fact he is considerably older but his vanity does not extend to taking enough Dew drugs to make him appear to be twenty again as other Urgenchis do.

" I see you have met the flower of the Steppe of Ice!" he nods to the Princess, "How do you do Ambassadors I am delighted to welcome you to the Empire!" Tamerlane is the consummate politician, his smiles and courtesy hide his inner feelings perfectly.

" I do hope the House of the Owl is satisfactory, it was once a villa of pleasure for some of the Empire's more flamboyant Viceroys. I find it a beautiful and strange building, the gardens are spectacular, they contain a rare giant Philimodon Orientalis which blooms once every ten years, a single huge flower which saturates the air with rich perfume. How goes it in Sanctaria your Grace ? we are so pleased to have opened relations with so fascinating a state."

Both the Archbishop and the Monsignor bowed as the Grand Chancellor approached them. While the Monsignor thanked the Princess for welcoming them, the Archbishop listened intently to the Grand Chancellor spoke about the House of Owl. The Archbishop had noticed the large flower which the Grand Chancellor spoke about but was not aware of it's history. "Thank you for the welcome, my Grace, it is indeed a wonderful place. I did not know about the plant, I assure you I will watch it with care."

He sighed for a moment. "Well, my Grace, Sanctaria is doing well. The Lord Patriarch is doing well in office and, as a relatively young man, has the rest of his life to set the foundation for the new Papal Kingdom. His Highness, the ex-King Chris has decided to move to a different region; we wish him well and are happy he left the Patriarch to be the new King."

He looked around. "But", he began, laughing, "We don't have any occasion as grand or interesting as this."

Both the Archbishop and the Monsignor bowed as the Grand Chancellor approached them. While the Monsignor thanked the Princess for welcoming them, the Archbishop listened intently to the Grand Chancellor spoke about the House of Owl. The Archbishop had noticed the large flower which the Grand Chancellor spoke about but was not aware of it's history. "Thank you for the welcome, my Grace, it is indeed a wonderful place. I did not know about the plant, I assure you I will watch it with care."

He sighed for a moment. "Well, my Grace, Sanctaria is doing well. The Lord Patriarch is doing well in office and, as a relatively young man, has the rest of his life to set the foundation for the new Papal Kingdom. His Highness, the ex-King Chris has decided to move to a different region; we wish him well and are happy he left the Patriarch to be the new King."

He looked around. "But", he began, laughing, "We don't have any occasion as grand or interesting as this."


" Please extend my personal best wishes to his Holiness, his task is very great and such responsibility as is his will need great strength and good council, I am certain he is replete in both." Tamerlane smiles and scans the room taking in all the main protagonists in this evenings drama and who they are associating with.

" I suppose all this must seem odd to outsiders. We have a knack for pomp and ceremony and conspicuous show, the Khans and Princes are masters of it, perhaps because they have such little power now their display will become all the more extravagant." Tamerlane laughs quietly

" I suppose this sort of thing developed out of the need to communicate the power and unity of an empire with no common language or culture and huge numbers of subjects who's native societies were left intact during the long era of autocracy. Surprisingly the treaty of Derbent which extended self rule and democracy throughout the empire made all this even more important. This gives the empire a sense of its might and success and a reason to keep on believing in its institutions. It binds the rulers and potentates of the autonomous states and regions to the court of his Divine Majesty. Of course formally it is the work of the Divan which I am charged with steering to keep the empire from drifting apart but it is a great help to have all this as well" Tamerlane waves his hand at the room and smiles.

((Soz for the lateness of my reply))

The Archbishop smiled."I will pass on your words, Grand Chancellor." He sighed as he looked around. More and more people were entering. He did not know if they were rulers in Urgench of more Ambassadors. "Tell me, Grand Chancellor, have you invited other countries here? If so, I do not want to keep you from greeting them."

The Ambassador looked at his assisstant. They both smiled weakly. The Papal Kingdom, although an old country, has just undergone a major nation shift and he was unsure of how to handle big occasions. This was also his first post as a Nuncio, or Ambassador.

((Soz for the lateness of my reply))

The Archbishop smiled."I will pass on your words, Grand Chancellor." He sighed as he looked around. More and more people were entering. He did not know if they were rulers in Urgench of more Ambassadors. "Tell me, Grand Chancellor, have you invited other countries here? If so, I do not want to keep you from greeting them."

The Ambassador looked at his assisstant. They both smiled weakly. The Papal Kingdom, although an old country, has just undergone a major nation shift and he was unsure of how to handle big occasions. This was also his first post as a Nuncio, or Ambassador.



" Indeed there are many Ambassadors here tonight, your Grace, in fact I must have a couple of words with the Ambassador for Snefaldia in a moment." Tamerlane notices the Khan of Mazandaran who is confidently striding towards him, "Actually your Grace would you please excuse me, I must attend his Serene Highness the Khan, please let my office know if we can be of any assistance to your embassy in future" Tamerlane bows and joins the Khan of Mazandaran and walks away.

The last few most senior Members of the Divan are now arriving in some style. Nogai, the minister for Foreign Affairs, Khan of Tabagatai, and avowed enemy of the Grand Chancellor sweeps in in a wave of gold and cerise taffeta and silk and a haze of black orchid and jonquil perfume. Members of the Huspadet party and assorted other lackeys flock to him and associate themselves with his grandeur.

The first phase of the ceremony is beginning. The Jumtug-nammeri or "the unnamed" must now make their way through the Vestibule of the Founder. These "unnamed" are those Khans who's names have not been read from the Golden Book by the Emperor inside the Chamber of the Council of Khans.

Some of these Khans are too ill or too infirm to vote in this session and they are honoured by the Empire by being represented in this progress by heralds or Birman of the Imperial Household.

These Birman now begin to make their silent and solemn progress through the vast chamber filled with the assembled nobility, officials and Ambassadors.

A hush descends as these proxies dressed in white with the golden horse of the empire emblazoned on their chests pass by, each carrying the banner and emblems of the Khan they walk instead of.

The censers all over the chamber are now fed with storax and benzoin which saturate the air with their sacredotal odour.

Following the Birman, are those Khans who's names have been removed from the Golden Book and been denied their voting rights for dishonouring themselves or committing crimes.

One of the enormous bronze bells hanging beside the huge statue of Tengri Khaghan is rung loudly as these miscreants make their way through the crowd to exit through a lesser portal. Those who have committed crimes serious enough to earn them a spell in jail are brought in shackles and all the dishonoured Khans are compelled to wear drab and colourless clothing.

The Urgenchis in the assembled crowd moan quietly and look down at the floor as these disgraced princes are paraded before them in shame and ignominy

Among the most notorious of the Jumtug-nammeri is the Khan of Mashklik, once a proud and very wealthy ruler of a tiny semi-autonomous city state, he was convicted of crimes against the empire when he extorted billions of Darangs from the Imperial exchequer and outraged public opinion by taking a third wife from a mercantile family from Caffa in the Chersonese whom he proceeded to divorce and swindle out of her considerable fortune by perverting the law and attempting to bribe an Imperial official.

The Urgenchi nobles moan slightly louder as the Khan of Mashklik passes by, aware that his crimes have cast a harsh light on their own private lives and that the empire demands more of its magnates now than at any time in its history.

Tamerlane stands close to the door of the Chamber of the Council of Khans as the procession passes him by, for each Khan he is compelled to rent the hem of an outer garment which is tailored for this purpose and which will be removed and replaced with an intact clothe of gold tunic set with black Fire Opals at its collar and hem.

As the last of the Jumtug-nammeri pass Tamerlane he has the time to look around, Hithum of Zanjan, Nogai, Princess Uanhartan, all stand in the first row of onlookers as does Uanhartan's still hooded companion.

The only part of this person which is visible are their hands, upon the right hand's index finger is a large lapis intaglio and gold ring which Tamerlane cannot help thinking he has seen somewhere before. The hands are long and pale and show no sign of labor or care, the fingers are strong but delicate. Tamerlane is irritated that he cannot tell for sure whether these are the hands of a man or a woman or where he has seen the lapis ring before.

Jorightu and the Duke of Kimunggo have wandered towards the statue of Tengri Khaghan.

" Oh please believe me, it is no flattery to say that your Grace's calender will be full in the next couple of months. The combination of Imperial policy and the delight in all things new and foreign will prove intoxicating to most of those with a stake in government, you will be feted. It will be a productive time I am sure."

Jorightu looks across the chamber and sees the spectacular entrance of the Prince of Zanjan, " Ah I believe you know of Hithum of Zanjan your Grace, we must go and talk to him in a minute. How have you been finding the Rang Mahal by the way ? I was taken there as a child once, I remember it being very beautiful. I hope it hasn't been proving hard to heat "

The Snefaldian gives a reserved chuckle. "I am quite used to the heat. Kimunggo itself is to the south of Pholimjung, and thus we are accustomed to the warmth and wetness of the climate. The adherent of Aatem Nal we brought with us, however, is from Tawsanggai in the far north, and is quite out of sorts, to say the least."

Being as high in the mountains as the land of the Tawsini was, it was subjected to cold temperatures much more often than the tropical regions in the south, and the Tawsini had learned to adapt. A common (and usually derogatory) joke in the rest of Snefaldia was that one was able to tell who was Tawsini by turning the thermostat to 50 degress fahrenheit and picking out who was breaking into a sweat.

On top of his natural disinclination to the hotter climes were his faith's unfortunately inappropriate vestments, typically heavy quilted brocade and furs. The poor man had had to get an entirely new wardrobe to prevent dehydration in the moments after he dressed in the morning; surely at considerable expense to himself.

"I must say, I'm surprised to see such a proliferation of horses and carriages! Naturally, we still enjoy such luxuries across Snefaldia as the product of tradition, but automobiles are still quite popular and pervasive. Is there an aversion to modernity here?"

The Snefaldian gives a reserved chuckle. "I am quite used to the heat. Kimunggo itself is to the south of Pholimjung, and thus we are accustomed to the warmth and wetness of the climate. The adherent of Aatem Nal we brought with us, however, is from Tawsanggai in the far north, and is quite out of sorts, to say the least."

Being as high in the mountains as the land of the Tawsini was, it was subjected to cold temperatures much more often than the tropical regions in the south, and the Tawsini had learned to adapt. A common (and usually derogatory) joke in the rest of Snefaldia was that one was able to tell who was Tawsini by turning the thermostat to 50 degress fahrenheit and picking out who was breaking into a sweat.

On top of his natural disinclination to the hotter climes were his faith's unfortunately inappropriate vestments, typically heavy quilted brocade and furs. The poor man had had to get an entirely new wardrobe to prevent dehydration in the moments after he dressed in the morning; surely at considerable expense to himself.

"I must say, I'm surprised to see such a proliferation of horses and carriages! Naturally, we still enjoy such luxuries across Snefaldia as the product of tradition, but automobiles are still quite popular and pervasive. Is there an aversion to modernity here?"




Jorightu was slightly mystified, by his question he had meant that now during the driving winter of the central asian steppe which Urgench was subject to it might prove very difficult to keep the vastness of the Rang Mahal warm, built as it was in the open and light style of the Deccan plain by a decadent Indian Prince who had never cared about the expense of maintaining the warmth during the snow drifts and whiteouts. Jorightu wondered if the Duke had noticed the flurries of snow falling outside which could be seen through the enormous, 35 meter tall,open portal which was the main entrance to the vestibule.

Jorightu presumes that his strong accent and odd cadence when speaking in English must be the cause of the confusion. His uncle had paid for the best schools in the empire and he still sounded like a shepherd boy from Otrar.


" Ah well your excellency, the 'Troika' or horse drawn sleigh is supreme at this time of year, when the ice and snow are thick on the ground. Many drive moto-Troika also but the combustion engine is something of a historical curiosity with us if by car you mean an automobile powered by such an engine.

When the Empire changed its primary fuel of energy production from Hydro-carbons to Geo-thermal and hydro-electric energy sources, about a thousand years ago, it became un-economic to continue to use hydro-carbons to fuel vehicles. The Hydrogen and activated Osmium fuel cell was introduced and the mag-lev train took over from personal vehicles for long journeys across the empire, the mag-lev is a marvel of Urgenchi engineering which has more than halved most journey times within the empire.

In our cities most use the public transport for everyday purposes. The wealthy and powerful display their wealth on occasions such as this by traveling in ancient style. Besides mongol culture is still strong in Urgench and any excuse to show off one's stable of thoroughbreds is used with alacrity.

I think cars are still bought by collectors and sometimes by the Imperial Foreign Service when an Ambassador is sent to states which use them."

As Jorightu finishes speaking Hithum of Zanjan approaches in a cloud of perfumes and incense. Hithum's servants duck and weave around him holding his huge swathes of silken garments, holding censers, fanning him and generally seeing to his needs.

Beaming with smiles, and glowing with a golden sweat, The Prince of Zanjan says in his deep husky voice, " Ah Jorightu! You scoundrel! You owe me 200,000 Caspian Darangs from our last visit to the gaming houses at Caffa! And now I find you monopolising the attentions of this rare and beautifull specimen of Senfaldian nobility! Your uncle does you too much honour and must be careless of the Empire's reputation if you are to be His Grace the Duke of Kimunggo's guide this evening!" Hithum laughs loudly ( eliciting many cross looks from the other Urgenchis nearby ) and slaps Jorightu on the shoulder

" Your Grace " Hithum addresses himself to the Snefaldian Ambassador, " How pleasing it is to see you! I feel as though Snefaldia's face at court is perhaps they only friendly face I shall see this evening, except Jorightu's of course." Jorightu smiles politely.

" How have you found the festivities so far ? The parade of reprobates just now was an eye opener no? " Hithum laughs too loudly once again.

It was owing to the quick-thinking of the Duke's aide that his embarassing slip-up was reversed, as he quickly moved forward upon noticing the Khan's odd look.

"My lord is slightly mistaken; we have recently taken delegations to the southern deserts around Gedrosia and the foothills of the great Himalayas and it is owing to the similarity of architectural styles of these lands that my Lord Duke refers to the heat and warmth, which threw our Honored Arsath so out of sorts. If I may be so free, the winter weather of the steppes is barely noticed in the Rang; we have covered many of the walls with heavy tapestries and furs of exquisite origin to remind us of home; and with the great fireplaces burning day and night the palace can be positively sweltering on the best of days."

Singedaruhan continues speaking, as if nothing were the matter.

"I blame myself for such an ill-fitting questions, we have taken to carriage and caravan for traveling out of a sense of nostalgia and novelty; though my father always pontificated on the vastly superior nature of the horse to the automobile- he believed, as many still do in my country, that getting to a place too quickly and in too great of comfort breeds sloth and limits patience. My next reports will be on your nation's great technological advances, which would be of great interest to our Ministry of Commerce."

The arrival of the garrulous Hithum elicited a few hushed words between the Duke and his aide, who bowed low and scurried away to discover what was taking the couriers so long. With a smile, Singedaruhan calmly adjusted his jewels and furs and clasped his hands in greeting.

"I cannot bring myself to speak ill of the pageant of worthies and luminaries arriving fro all corners of your Empire; I am reminded of a folk-tale of my youth- the Pearl Crown. The King of Han, who ruled a feudal state in the north of Bae, desired to present his wife with a crown, and so dispatched five-hundred servants with the order to go to the corners of the land and return with the most precious objects they could find. They dispatched to all corners of the Five Regions, and after ten years returned bearing gifts."

"Some came bearing fragrant cedar and incenses from Kand and Korsahad, some came with boughs of golden rice and deep mahogany from Dayan, others came with gold and iron from the north of Sring Issa. Silver and silk came from the states of the forest-realm in Neer Dal. Accounting for the immense wealth before him, the King could not choose which was the most beautiful and precious until the servant who had gone all the way to the islands of the Great Bay came before him, bearing a thousand perfect pearls and the nacre that bore them. The King was awestruck, and so commanded the crown be made from those things."

"The King's Minister came forth and asked what should be done with the remaining gifts, to which he responded "Though they are not the most beautiful, they are precious also. Distribute the food to the people, and with what remains build a pavilion to the ancestors. The bounty of the Five Regions will be seen by all."

"I cannot bring myself to speak ill of the pageant of worthies and luminaries arriving fro all corners of your Empire; I am reminded of a folk-tale of my youth- the Pearl Crown. The King of Han, who ruled a feudal state in the north of Bae, desired to present his wife with a crown, and so dispatched five-hundred servants with the order to go to the corners of the land and return with the most precious objects they could find. They dispatched to all corners of the Five Regions, and after ten years returned bearing gifts."

"Some came bearing fragrant cedar and incenses from Kand and Korsahad, some came with boughs of golden rice and deep mahogany from Dayan, others came with gold and iron from the north of Sring Issa. Silver and silk came from the states of the forest-realm in Neer Dal. Accounting for the immense wealth before him, the King could not choose which was the most beautiful and precious until the servant who had gone all the way to the islands of the Great Bay came before him, bearing a thousand perfect pearls and the nacre that bore them. The King was awestruck, and so commanded the crown be made from those things."

"The King's Minister came forth and asked what should be done with the remaining gifts, to which he responded "Though they are not the most beautiful, they are precious also. Distribute the food to the people, and with what remains build a pavilion to the ancestors. The bounty of the Five Regions will be seen by all."



Prince Hithum listens to this story with unusual sobriety and says, "Ah how I love the elegant poetry of ancient wisdom your Grace. The Pearl is indeed most worthy to grace the brow of Kings. It is surely the pride of Snefaldia that it has recognised the greatest wealth which any nation may possess is wisdom and that Snefaldia in particular has made the greatest investment in this miraculous resource, is it not ? "

Hithum waves a hand covered in Rhodium rings set with Fire Opals at one of his servants who bears a chest carved from coromandel wood set with Aventurine buttons. The servant opens the chest and Hithum removes a rope some meters long of black Pearls as large as Kumquats and with great solemnity hands it to the Duke of Kimunggo.

"Please your Grace, accept this small token of the regard in which Zanjan holds your people. Such pearls are fit for any purpose and would suit your grace excellently, but it may please your Grace to give them to those of the Aatem Nal who may be in your embassy's employ since such pearls are the gems of wisdom." Hithum pauses as the servants around him anoint his person with Musk, Hyacinth and Black Iris perfumes.

" Your Grace, I would be honoured if you would consent to attend the Ball of the Five Oceans which I am hosting in my villa in the Perfumed Garden next week, I am continuing the celebrations attendant upon Zanjan's recently conferred supremacy over the waters of the Empire. It will be an occasion to remember." Hithum smiles, spending his vast wealth on extravagant entertainments is his favourite hobby.


* * *


The second and most important part of the ceremony now begins.

24 enormous Chinese bells cast in solid gold are drawn into the Vestibule of the Founder on great wheeled carts which are painted all over with scenes of the life of Tengri Khaghan.

4 bell ringers in tight fitting short sleeved tunics with the Golden horse emblazoned on them walk beside these bell carts. As the carts are drawn into position the bell ringers leap into the air and spin round to hit the largest bells on their rims. A loud and sonorous note rings out like a clap of thunder.

At this signal all the nobles in the vestibule gather in lines on either side of the route from the doors to the Chamber of the Council of Khans to the main doors out of the vestibule. Tamerlane, the Grand Chancellor moves into position beside the doors of the Chamber of the Council of Khans.


Now the bell ringers begin to dance and leap in the air as they beat out a strange and ancient music on the golden bells. As they do so other musicians begin to play nose flutes and cymbals and Mongol harps. The sound is both awe inspiring and and hypnotic.

Other staff carrying huge bronze censers move towards the Council doors. Clouds of the incense used especially in the Emperor's presence rise into the air from the censers. This incense contains a mild deleriant empathogen called Imperion which is used to imbue a sense of calm and receptivity to the majesty of the Emperor, the pupils of all in the room dilate as it takes effect.


The trills of the nose flutes and harps and the deep boom of the bells rise to a crescendo as the doors of the chamber of the Council of Khans open.

Standing in the doorway are the women who bear the standards of each different region of the empire. The first three are from the European provinces, they wear the plate armour which is traditional in these regions, they make their way towards the main doors along the cleared path between the nobles. Next come the standard bearers of the Anatolian and Indo-parthian regions dressed in flowing white cotton and linen robes, colourful turbans, and ivory and lapis jewelery. Next come the standard bearers of Caucasia, Siberia and Jagataitia, these are dressed in furs and damascened curasses. Next to process before the nobility of Urgench is the proud standard bearer of the Sino-mongolian province dressed in Chinese silks, a mongol war cap and a silver bow and quiver.

The standard bearers of the regions are followed by the bearer of the Imperial Banner, the long gold fringed,deep purple, silken pennant with the golden horse upon it is born aloft by an imperial princess dressed in scarlet damask with the huge gilded scimitar of Empress Uzgurtani at her waste.

Servants of the imperial household now process out of the chamber of the Council of Khans bearing intricate Rhodium filigree censers which swing on chains and emit the fragrant smoke of Bulgar Rose and Gardenia, behind them come servants bearing painted portraits of some of the Emperor's most revered ancestors, Tengri Khaghan, Buyuk the Wise, Uzgurtani the Great, Sunghar Bahadur the 3rd, the Emperor's grandfather Yongchohor Timur.

As the the bell ringers and musicians continue to play the first of the member's of the Imperial family who serve the emperor as honorary servants now process out of the Council Chamber, first is Prince Buyan the emperor's uncle, the Steward, dressed in a sable tunic and a capacious clothe of gold cloak. Buyan is followed by three other princes, nephews of the Emperor, who serve his person, they are dressed in long flowing saffron silk robes embroidered in gold thread with lions devouring deers, they also wear tall silver coronets set with blood red rubies. These Princes of the wardrobe are accompanied by servants carrying large braziers born on polls which emit huge clouds of incense....



O.O.C. To be continued

...

Prince Hithum listens to this story with unusual sobriety and says, "Ah how I love the elegant poetry of ancient wisdom your Grace. The Pearl is indeed most worthy to grace the brow of Kings. It is surely the pride of Snefaldia that it has recognised the greatest wealth which any nation may possess is wisdom and that Snefaldia in particular has made the greatest investment in this miraculous resource, is it not ? "

Hithum waves a hand covered in Rhodium rings set with Fire Opals at one of his servants who bears a chest carved from coromandel wood set with Aventurine buttons. The servant opens the chest and Hithum removes a rope some meters long of black Pearls as large as Kumquats and with great solemnity hands it to the Duke of Kimunggo.

"Please your Grace, accept this small token of the regard in which Zanjan holds your people. Such pearls are fit for any purpose and would suit your grace excellently, but it may please your Grace to give them to those of the Aatem Nal who may be in your embassy's employ since such pearls are the gems of wisdom." Hithum pauses as the servants around him anoint his person with Musk, Hyacinth and Black Iris perfumes.

" Your Grace, I would be honoured if you would consent to attend the Ball of the Five Oceans which I am hosting in my villa in the Perfumed Garden next week, I am continuing the celebrations attendant upon Zanjan's recently conferred supremacy over the waters of the Empire. It will be an occasion to remember." Hithum smiles, spending his vast wealth on extravagant entertainments is his favourite hobby.

Singedaruhan gives a short bow as he accepts the gift, quickly remembering his diplomatic decorum despite the absence of his physical conscience. "Your Excellency, I am pleased to accept this gift on behalf of the people of Snefaldia. The adherents of Aatem Nal who ruled the country in the last half-century were careful to apply the cardinal precept of their faith to governance- that all is knowable."

As he spoke, the Duke spotted out of the corner of his eye his aide arriving from the local consulate with their Librarian in tow, the Inquisitor of the 10th Grade Virāma Vyākaraṇa, visibly flushed at having dressed quickly in his heavy robes and rushed to the grand affair.

"Excellency," the Duke continued, "I would be more than pleased to attend your affair in the coming months, but I must change tacks momentarily and play the good host to introduce the Honored Inquisitor Vyākaraṇa, of Tawsanggai in Snefaldia. He is our official Librarian for the embassy in charge of records and the many archivists we have working for us, and I believe I am correct in saying that he has been kept busy by your marvelous empire for many weeks."

The flushed scholar gave a bow, adjusting his tall peaked hat and heavily embroidered robe, which shimmered in deep crimson-and-black damask patterns. He was of medium build, his face thin and of regal bearing, with teh typical rich complexion and dark hair of the Tawsini. His teeth were slightly imperfect, evidence of a childhood in the hinterlands where dental care did not reach, but his eyes had a friendliness that indicated deep trust and a curious mind. He smelled slightly of India Ink, though under the heavy layers of incense, perfume, and the heady intoxication of the opiates it would be lost to all but the most trained nose.

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lord. Please excuse my state of arrival, I have only just now been summoned from my humble desk- which I am quite pleased at!"