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Makoto shivered in the fear of the task before her. It was rare to denounce the Emperor, but even rarer was it for a princess to denounce herself and sever her ties to her lineage and rights. And it was unheard of for the first born to do what she was about to do. She looked over at her wardrobe- the beautiful and costly silk fabrics of her hanfus were all torn as her Texts had decreed. Her jewelry had been discarded and she wore nothing more. All traces of her regality, she had stripped herself of, her tears falling freely as she physically tore herself from her birthright. Looking over at the table, she grabbed the dagger that had been given to her when she had reached maturity and had completed her copy of the Sacred Texts, and blinking back the tears, she brought the tip down into her palm forcefully and began to carve her brand and promise- the Scars of Exile- into her palm.
She bit her lip and gasped in pain as the blood welled up and pooled in her palm making it difficult to cut the lines into her soft skin.
Plick. Plick.
Tear drops and blood fell to the ground in solidarity in the dim candlelit room. She dipped her hand in the water mixed with lemons, for she felt when she made her choice, that this process must be as painful physically to her as the pain in her heart. She winced as the lemon juice mixed with the damaged flesh and fought back a sob as she examined her progress as the streams of blood faded in the basin. It hurt and stung her fiercely, but she found satisfaction of the neat, concise cuts she had made.
Only a few left…
She dried her hand on a towel and then grimaced as she once more brought the point down and finished the brand. She placed her hand once more in the basin to wash the blood away and looked upon it, meditating on what she was to do now, and how her life would change because of this decision. Slowly, the water turned from clear to diluted red. Her cuts were deep, just as they needed to be. And as she knelt there, her head grew light, and her thoughts clouded, but she wouldn’t lose control as the pain blocked out all other senses. Just this once, she allowed a sob to slip past her lips as she pulled her wounded hand from the basin and wrapped it in rough cloths, holding it to her heart as she wept quietly, letting herself recover before she would have swooned.
With the brand done, she walked over to her wardrobe and pushing past all the colorful silks, she grabbed a simple black dress, a dress of the working peasant class, and put it on. She turned and looked at herself in the mirror. Gone were the makeup and the jewels. Gone was the soft fabric that marked her class and made her look elegant. The woman that stood before her was raw and broken. Her long black hair hung loose, framing her smooth face like prison windows. Her build was hidden by the poor craftsmanship of the dress, making her look more like a man than a princess. Indeed, if her father or any members of court did recognize her, it would be a miracle. But this is what had to be done.
The last thing she did broke her heart the most. Her entire life, she had studied it and dedicated herself to understanding it, and rewriting it so that it could be passed down through the generations. She knew every word within like she knew herself and meditated upon it many times each day. Even now, she had sought its guidance, but knew that it would only tell her the same thing it had for the last hundred times she had consulted it.
Since ancient times, the Texts were used to provide insight in how to rule her country. It was always the women of the Royal Lineage’s job to ensure that the Texts were preserved and passed down for future generations. It was also the woman’s job to translate the texts and provide guidance for her husband, the Emperor. But that was not the fate for her copy. Hers was to be burned and to save her country from being destroyed. She hugged her scroll to her breast like it was a dear friend that she was going to lose, and then, gathering her strength, she took a deep breath and left her room, never once looking back.
***
She did not hesitate at the doors, but threw them opened. A large collective gasp rose from the crowd gathered there, all of who were dressed in their finest for the special day. Surrounded by judgmental silence, she walked down the aisle to the thrones where her mother sat and her father now stood, ready to banish the new peasant. And beside him was her fiancée, Cho Lee. She straightened up and then before her father, she pulled out her scroll. Blood now stained the outer parchment, sharing with her the loathsome brand she had earlier cut into herself. Recognition and anger filled her father’s eyes while her mother stood to her feet, her face drained of all color as she realized what her daughter was about to do.
“Why do you disgrace me, my daughter?” he asked her, causing murmurs to race up and down in the crowd. “This is your wedding day, yet you come down the aisle as a peasant, not in the finery that was made for you. Do you not respect the gifts given to you or the hard labors that went into making your Royal Hanfu?” he demanded.
“I respect them, Honored Father, but I deny them,” she replied. “Just as I deny my marriage and now denounce you and my sister and Honored Mother,” she continued as she threw her Texts into the Eternal Flame- a fire that had been burning since ancient times that was said that the founders of her culture and country first wrote the Sacred Texts around, using the ashes as ink to write. The fire sputtered as the flames began to eat at the scroll, devouring it quickly. Her father dove towards the flames, but was pulled back as sparks shot up from the pit. His hands still reached for the Texts and his clothing smoldered. He looked desperately at her from across the pit as she held up her palm for him to see.
“I have severed my ties to you as your daughter and can no longer call this place my home. In this way, I have exiled myself from this land. May you never call me your daughter again,” she recited, her heart breaking more and more with each word. Tears blurred her eyes as she spoke. Her mother held onto her sister, Daiyu, preventing the young princess from running out to her. But in her mother’s eyes, she saw that her mother understood her actions, and even though it broke her heart, her mother nodded in acceptance of what she had done and turned her back on her. Her father, however, looked at her in rage.
“You dare go against my orders and disown yourself?” he roared at her.
“You went against mine first,” she replied. “If I am not to be respected as an Oracle of our Sacred Texts, then what purpose do I serve in this land?” she asked him. “The Texts warned me against this union- only evil and blood will come from it! By severing my ties do I save this Kingdom since you have failed to listen!” she exclaimed. “It is the only way, and it is done now. Honored Emperor, I have shamed myself and have branded myself with the Scars of Exile. As punishment for not adhering to your laws, I shall leave this land, never to return again,” she decreed, her head bowed.
“Emperor Matsume,” the foreign emperor growled in a warning. “The union of our lands depends on the wedding of our children. Do you think it wise to upset us by letting your brat back out of it?” has asked him. Her father looked towards the other emperor and then to her.
“Ai?” he asked his wife who winced. “I need your counsel.” Ai turned towards him with tears in her eyes.
“I have none to give, honored husband. I too foresaw this and warned you, just as Makoto did. If this is what she needs to do to preserve our culture, traditions, and nation, then it would be foolish to stop her. This union cannot be,” she replied, and then she placed her hand on his arm. “And our laws must be up held.” He looked at her in surprise and horror and then looked at Makoto, tears now in his eyes.
“The laws?” he asked weakly. “They tell me that I must exile my daughter? I can’t just call off this wedding?” he asked her.
“They command it,” Ai replied firmly, her back towards Makoto again. “You are bound to the law, just as I am bound to you,” she stated. “I am sorry.” Her father looked over at her and then to the fire where the only remains of her Texts smoldered as coals.
“Makoto, in accordance to the law, any person who bears the Scars of Exile upon their right palm is an outcast of this land, sworn never to return under the pain of death. As you have severed your ties to this land, to your position, and to your rights as a citizen and Princess to this land, I too sever my ties to you with a final promise- should you ever return to these lands, I will execute you, as is my duty as the Emperor and ruler of this land,” he proclaimed. Makoto, having received his acknowledgement and verdict, turned and walked out of the throne room, her head held high as she walked with confidence. Even out of the Palace, she still walked proudly, her nose in the air as she made her way out of the city. Only once when she had left the security of the city gates and entered the forest did she fall to the ground and weep.
She bit her lip and gasped in pain as the blood welled up and pooled in her palm making it difficult to cut the lines into her soft skin.
Plick. Plick.
Tear drops and blood fell to the ground in solidarity in the dim candlelit room. She dipped her hand in the water mixed with lemons, for she felt when she made her choice, that this process must be as painful physically to her as the pain in her heart. She winced as the lemon juice mixed with the damaged flesh and fought back a sob as she examined her progress as the streams of blood faded in the basin. It hurt and stung her fiercely, but she found satisfaction of the neat, concise cuts she had made.
Only a few left…
She dried her hand on a towel and then grimaced as she once more brought the point down and finished the brand. She placed her hand once more in the basin to wash the blood away and looked upon it, meditating on what she was to do now, and how her life would change because of this decision. Slowly, the water turned from clear to diluted red. Her cuts were deep, just as they needed to be. And as she knelt there, her head grew light, and her thoughts clouded, but she wouldn’t lose control as the pain blocked out all other senses. Just this once, she allowed a sob to slip past her lips as she pulled her wounded hand from the basin and wrapped it in rough cloths, holding it to her heart as she wept quietly, letting herself recover before she would have swooned.
With the brand done, she walked over to her wardrobe and pushing past all the colorful silks, she grabbed a simple black dress, a dress of the working peasant class, and put it on. She turned and looked at herself in the mirror. Gone were the makeup and the jewels. Gone was the soft fabric that marked her class and made her look elegant. The woman that stood before her was raw and broken. Her long black hair hung loose, framing her smooth face like prison windows. Her build was hidden by the poor craftsmanship of the dress, making her look more like a man than a princess. Indeed, if her father or any members of court did recognize her, it would be a miracle. But this is what had to be done.
The last thing she did broke her heart the most. Her entire life, she had studied it and dedicated herself to understanding it, and rewriting it so that it could be passed down through the generations. She knew every word within like she knew herself and meditated upon it many times each day. Even now, she had sought its guidance, but knew that it would only tell her the same thing it had for the last hundred times she had consulted it.
Since ancient times, the Texts were used to provide insight in how to rule her country. It was always the women of the Royal Lineage’s job to ensure that the Texts were preserved and passed down for future generations. It was also the woman’s job to translate the texts and provide guidance for her husband, the Emperor. But that was not the fate for her copy. Hers was to be burned and to save her country from being destroyed. She hugged her scroll to her breast like it was a dear friend that she was going to lose, and then, gathering her strength, she took a deep breath and left her room, never once looking back.
***
She did not hesitate at the doors, but threw them opened. A large collective gasp rose from the crowd gathered there, all of who were dressed in their finest for the special day. Surrounded by judgmental silence, she walked down the aisle to the thrones where her mother sat and her father now stood, ready to banish the new peasant. And beside him was her fiancée, Cho Lee. She straightened up and then before her father, she pulled out her scroll. Blood now stained the outer parchment, sharing with her the loathsome brand she had earlier cut into herself. Recognition and anger filled her father’s eyes while her mother stood to her feet, her face drained of all color as she realized what her daughter was about to do.
“Why do you disgrace me, my daughter?” he asked her, causing murmurs to race up and down in the crowd. “This is your wedding day, yet you come down the aisle as a peasant, not in the finery that was made for you. Do you not respect the gifts given to you or the hard labors that went into making your Royal Hanfu?” he demanded.
“I respect them, Honored Father, but I deny them,” she replied. “Just as I deny my marriage and now denounce you and my sister and Honored Mother,” she continued as she threw her Texts into the Eternal Flame- a fire that had been burning since ancient times that was said that the founders of her culture and country first wrote the Sacred Texts around, using the ashes as ink to write. The fire sputtered as the flames began to eat at the scroll, devouring it quickly. Her father dove towards the flames, but was pulled back as sparks shot up from the pit. His hands still reached for the Texts and his clothing smoldered. He looked desperately at her from across the pit as she held up her palm for him to see.
“I have severed my ties to you as your daughter and can no longer call this place my home. In this way, I have exiled myself from this land. May you never call me your daughter again,” she recited, her heart breaking more and more with each word. Tears blurred her eyes as she spoke. Her mother held onto her sister, Daiyu, preventing the young princess from running out to her. But in her mother’s eyes, she saw that her mother understood her actions, and even though it broke her heart, her mother nodded in acceptance of what she had done and turned her back on her. Her father, however, looked at her in rage.
“You dare go against my orders and disown yourself?” he roared at her.
“You went against mine first,” she replied. “If I am not to be respected as an Oracle of our Sacred Texts, then what purpose do I serve in this land?” she asked him. “The Texts warned me against this union- only evil and blood will come from it! By severing my ties do I save this Kingdom since you have failed to listen!” she exclaimed. “It is the only way, and it is done now. Honored Emperor, I have shamed myself and have branded myself with the Scars of Exile. As punishment for not adhering to your laws, I shall leave this land, never to return again,” she decreed, her head bowed.
“Emperor Matsume,” the foreign emperor growled in a warning. “The union of our lands depends on the wedding of our children. Do you think it wise to upset us by letting your brat back out of it?” has asked him. Her father looked towards the other emperor and then to her.
“Ai?” he asked his wife who winced. “I need your counsel.” Ai turned towards him with tears in her eyes.
“I have none to give, honored husband. I too foresaw this and warned you, just as Makoto did. If this is what she needs to do to preserve our culture, traditions, and nation, then it would be foolish to stop her. This union cannot be,” she replied, and then she placed her hand on his arm. “And our laws must be up held.” He looked at her in surprise and horror and then looked at Makoto, tears now in his eyes.
“The laws?” he asked weakly. “They tell me that I must exile my daughter? I can’t just call off this wedding?” he asked her.
“They command it,” Ai replied firmly, her back towards Makoto again. “You are bound to the law, just as I am bound to you,” she stated. “I am sorry.” Her father looked over at her and then to the fire where the only remains of her Texts smoldered as coals.
“Makoto, in accordance to the law, any person who bears the Scars of Exile upon their right palm is an outcast of this land, sworn never to return under the pain of death. As you have severed your ties to this land, to your position, and to your rights as a citizen and Princess to this land, I too sever my ties to you with a final promise- should you ever return to these lands, I will execute you, as is my duty as the Emperor and ruler of this land,” he proclaimed. Makoto, having received his acknowledgement and verdict, turned and walked out of the throne room, her head held high as she walked with confidence. Even out of the Palace, she still walked proudly, her nose in the air as she made her way out of the city. Only once when she had left the security of the city gates and entered the forest did she fall to the ground and weep.
A few moths back, Slyer introduced the idea of world building to me during a sketch jam. This is one of the results to emerge from remaking my Rhodinia.
In the past, Makoto's exile from her homeland had been a bit unbelievable and ambiguous. There was no real rhyme or reason to it- 'the Emperor wanted a son so he denied Makoto her birthright and she ran away.' Now, there is a bit more culture behind this as well as a hint of an explanation as to how the culture of Belasia functions.
The Sacred Texts are more or less like the I Ching, and in Belaisa, it is the royal princesses duty to make for herself an exact copy of the original by memorizing it. Her final copy must be made from memory and be word for word correct. Once this is accomplished, a princess may then marry, but she chooses her suitor based upon her divination of the Texts she has just made. Now, if an Emperor has only sons, then selected women (chosen by the Texts and the current Empress) must undergo the same tasks as the princesses, creating their own Texts. The one who finishes hers first marries the heir to the throne while the other potential suitors join an order of Sacred Monks (though they are all women) in the secluded Jagged Mountains. There, the women devote the rest of their lives to studying the Texts as well as giving council to those who seek it. And should the Honored Mother (current Empress) die, the Emperor may summon one of the Sacred Monks to his palace to advise him on all matters, and if he chooses (and the Texts allow) he may chose another wife from the Monks.
The Sacred Texts have always been a part of my story, at least since the second edit, but now, their importance to the nation of Belaisa is more clear. The Texts set the standard as how to live and are used to guide the nation in all matters that are important. Should the original Texts be stolen, tradition will be severed with unknown repercussions.
I wanted to give Makoto a more human feel, rather than make her the rebel without a cause that she appeared to be in the other edits- running away because her father took away her birth right. I want to make her... more honorable, as well as, well, loyal and human. And by doing these world building exercises that I have been researching, the different cultures of Rhodinia are coming to life, which in turn, is giving my world and my characters a more life like feel. Everything seems to finally be clicking together with less extreme stretches that boarder on the unbelievable. Makoto's story is just one of the many pieces that has finally clicked into place.
In the past, Makoto's exile from her homeland had been a bit unbelievable and ambiguous. There was no real rhyme or reason to it- 'the Emperor wanted a son so he denied Makoto her birthright and she ran away.' Now, there is a bit more culture behind this as well as a hint of an explanation as to how the culture of Belasia functions.
The Sacred Texts are more or less like the I Ching, and in Belaisa, it is the royal princesses duty to make for herself an exact copy of the original by memorizing it. Her final copy must be made from memory and be word for word correct. Once this is accomplished, a princess may then marry, but she chooses her suitor based upon her divination of the Texts she has just made. Now, if an Emperor has only sons, then selected women (chosen by the Texts and the current Empress) must undergo the same tasks as the princesses, creating their own Texts. The one who finishes hers first marries the heir to the throne while the other potential suitors join an order of Sacred Monks (though they are all women) in the secluded Jagged Mountains. There, the women devote the rest of their lives to studying the Texts as well as giving council to those who seek it. And should the Honored Mother (current Empress) die, the Emperor may summon one of the Sacred Monks to his palace to advise him on all matters, and if he chooses (and the Texts allow) he may chose another wife from the Monks.
The Sacred Texts have always been a part of my story, at least since the second edit, but now, their importance to the nation of Belaisa is more clear. The Texts set the standard as how to live and are used to guide the nation in all matters that are important. Should the original Texts be stolen, tradition will be severed with unknown repercussions.
I wanted to give Makoto a more human feel, rather than make her the rebel without a cause that she appeared to be in the other edits- running away because her father took away her birth right. I want to make her... more honorable, as well as, well, loyal and human. And by doing these world building exercises that I have been researching, the different cultures of Rhodinia are coming to life, which in turn, is giving my world and my characters a more life like feel. Everything seems to finally be clicking together with less extreme stretches that boarder on the unbelievable. Makoto's story is just one of the many pieces that has finally clicked into place.
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If this isn't the start to your story, it needs to be! Dang, you did a really good job at explaining just enough to start the story off, who our main character is, their culture, and just enough backstory to be intrigued. Well done!