The Circle of Rule
Time for a change in management.
"Unbelievable!" screamed the Head Scholar, an elderly man with a white shaggy beard and with long braided hair who looked neither feeble nor senile at the moment. He was clearly frustrated, walking briskly through the Academy's west wing, making little effort in keeping his steps quiet and graceful as was proper. Accompanying him was his most trusted servant and courier. At the moment the poor man was taking the brunt of the high-ranking official's rage. "Nonsense! Rubbish! Hogwash! This is an outrage!"
"But sir, the Palace had confirmed its truthfulness," said the servant as he tried to keep up with his master. He was gripping a stack of bamboo-sheet scrolls that seemed to threaten to burst open from his palms at any moment just then, "The reports hold true! It may sound unbelievable, but you cannot deny the facts, sir."
"Oh, I believe the reports alright," said the Head Scholar as he stopped at a fork in the corridor, at once turning to his servant as though they were in some heated debate. Some scholars from the nearby rooms had gone out of their rooms to see what the commotion was all about – upon seeing the fuming Head Scholar however, they all returned to their quarters, apparently guided by the best of their judgment. "I just cannot believe he did not tell us sooner! This matter is of great importance to the whole Dominion, and he dared not say a word?"
"But sir–" the servant tried to interrupt, but what he was going to say was swept away by another wave of angry shouting from his master.
"Not a word! Not one! He goes on and on about going to war with China and preparing the men and sailors, but this–" The Head Scholar took a deep breath, his face all red. He turned away from his servant and faced one of the corridor's forks and then continued to walk briskly as he did. "This! How is the Dominion to survive without our guidance? The Lord-Magistrate is beginning to think he can handle all of the matters of the state for himself, but this just proves he is as shortsighted as he is belligerent!"
The pair had finally reached the library, a large room within the Academy which housed transcripts, copies, and originals of laws and musings by the scholars of the years. The Head Scholar might have been a raging bull at face of the Lord-Magistrate's blunder just then, but he was going to rectify the monarch's mistakes and reorganize matters before they go out of hand. The library was just the first step in his efforts, and it was a crucial one.
"Sir, should I get the other scholars to, uh," asked the servant in an uncertain tone. "Uh, eheh." He gathered himself up as he watched his master's back go through the library's doorway. "What I mean to say is, should I get a few other scholars to help you out, sir?"
"Do you think I can do this alone with a few librarians?" replied the Head Scholar, anger welling up in his voice. The servant shuddered on where he stood, his master's intimidating back facing him. "Of course you should get a few other scholars! You know who to get. Now go, before I turn around and hit you with that scroll of yours!"
"Y-yes sir!" said the servant with a slight jump. Almost immediately he about-faced, then started towards the other end of the Academy.
_____
Soon enough the Head Scholar was sifting through piles of old documents detailing ancient laws and traditions from times long past in the badly-lit and cramped spaces of the library, some of which were probably already forgotten in the face of newer, more modern laws. He found out, for example, that there was a law which stated that selling fish during the first day of the week was prohibited due to "unfair competition" or something of that sort. To the best of his knowledge, that law was either abolished or is currently ineffectual, but he did not have time to bother with that right then at that moment.
"Have you people found anything yet?" asked the Head Scholar as he swept off dust on one of the scrolls. Written on the wrong side of the book was Laws on Fences, Second Compilation. He almost threw it back into the dusty shelf, feeling that he could never find what he needed at the moment on time. On receiving a few wheezing coughs for a response, he continued, "Try the shelf on Transcripts of Old Custom if its not in the shelf on Ancient Tablet-Laws. We must hurry!"
"Yes, Head Scholar," replied one of the two ancient librarians. He may have looked much older than the Head Scholar's own grandfather, but there was fierceness in his eye and grimness in his frown that simply chilled the highest official of Academy's bones. Perhaps it was in the rough treatment he gave the books; the ibrarians, after all, were given the sacred task of protecting the integrity of all these written records.
"I will be more careful next time," promised the Head Scholar dejectedly as he continued to rummage through the shelves. From the corner of his eye, he saw that the older-than-him librarian looked a lot cheerier now,
Within an hour or so of fruitless searching, a small band of scholars had flooded into the library with little warning. This was not to the librarians' liking, the same librarians who then began to tell the mass of wrinkly human bodies to get out of the library for the sake of common decency. The blast of warm, sweaty bodies posed a great threat to the readability of the old books, and the librarians were not just going to stand there and let things fall apart.
"Will you sirs please kindly fall back and leave this room clear for just a moment?" said the one with the fierce eyes. He held a broom which had a very large broomstick, his stance reminiscent of a soldier's. "We are going to search, but we will not allow any harm to come to these books." There was a special stress on "anyone," and the now-watching Head Scholar knew that even his position meant nothing to the librarians if the books ended up in any way harmed by him. The Head Scholar also knew with slight discomfort that he was powerless against the old, book-guarding skeletons if he took a wrong step.
"Everyone," said the Head Scholar, his hands to the air. "Everyone, please organize yourself into searching parties to handle every shelf of the library. As you might have heard from my servant–" his servant was now hiding behind the mass of scholars around the library entrance "–we have a very urgent matter to attend to. By now, you should know what we are looking for."
Everyone in front of the Head Scholar nodded in agreement. The leader of the Academy then began assigning scholar-bands to sweep–both literally and figuratively, to be certain–all the shelves within the library proper, imposing strict rules on the care and safety of the documents. In another hour or so, everyone in the library was dusting old books and climbing on side-ladders to reach the top-shelves, all the while looking generally somewhat distressed.
_____
Riding across the would-be fields of battle was Shao Shao Sung himself, a man in his middle years wearing war-gear as though he was born with it. He was overseeing the execution of his battle-plans personally, with a band of trusted military advisors constantly by his side. On his fifth day of touring, however, a messenger from the Academy had arrived and forced him back to the capital. A single letter written on a scroll of stitched-together bamboo strips was all it took:
To The Most Righteous Ruler of the Dominion,
The Lord-Magistrate and Monarch of Zu,
Your Excellency, Shao Shao Sung,
Your presence is required in the Royal Palace, as dictated by the Academy, for matters regarding the throne.
One of your many humble servants,
The Head Scholar and Keeper of the Academy,
Fai Wei Qi
The message to be as unrevealing as it could for the chances of interception by bandits or national enemies were always great. However, the Lord-Magistrate knew what this was about, and found the matter too petty to merit pulling him from the border. However, the laws were quite clear: even the Lord-Magistrate was not exempt from a summons by the Academy.
"General Yao," the Lord-Magistrate had said on the day he was going to leave for the capital. He was sitting atop his horse, flanked by rows of guards and horsmen who were his personal advisers. "Please make sure that those plans of ours are carried out fine, or else these scholars are going to be hounding me for the rest of my life." The general, standing a few feet away with his own band of guards, bowed in acquiescence. However, behind the beard of his otherwise serious face, he hid a small smile that did not escape the Lord-Magistrate's notice.
"Please," said the Lord-Magistrate, giving an expression of disapproval which did not exactly stop the older general from smiling. "It is not everyday the ruling family gets replaced." Without saying more, he turned his horse around and did a sweeping motion with his arm. It served either as a gesture of good-bye to the officer he was leaving in charge or a command for his troops to move out out, depending on how one saw it. Either way, the monarch's escort moved out and the general left for the camp's tents at that instant.
_____
It took many days to reach the Dominion's capital. Bandits had attacked them on the way, and it was not exactly easy to fight off a few bands of rogues with just a small escort. Nevertheless, the Lord-Magistrate had arrived with just an arrow through his hand, stepping into the Palace Court earlier than was expected.
"Lord-Magistrate!" shouted the Head Scholar in greeting. The old man eyed for a moment the bandage which covered the monarch's hand, quickly inferring that some sort of injury had befallen the lord upon which the stability of the entire Dominion depended upon. Pointing at the injury, he said, "Chinese doing?"
"No, bandits," said the Lord-Magistrate with dignity despite the slight shmae he felt for being injured by mere highwaymen. He strode towards the throne room, his iron-shod boots loud against the marble tiles that defined many of the ways in and about the Palace of Storms. "Now, shall we get this over with as I need to return to the fronts–"
He was quickly interrupted by the old man by his side. "That is unnecessary. I am sure your generals can handle it just fine. The old texts–which, I assure you, were not particularly easy to find–state that you need to oversee the ceremonies that ensured your successor, family or not, if you are still alive when the ceremonies are held." The Head Scholar was striding through the tiles as quickly as the Lord-Magistrate did, only more gracefully so.
"Damn old rituals," was all that the Lord-Magistrate said. Strong and straightforward, much to the distaste of the Head Scholar. When they reached the throne room, Shao Shao Sung, the last of his kind, took a seat and faced the Head Scholar from an elevated position just as was proper. "When will the ceremonies begin?" The Head Scholar did not hesitate for moment, as he had all this planned out beforehand.
"In a week, sire," said the old man. The Lord-Magistrate waved a hand in recognition.
"Who have you chosen as my successor?" The Lord-Magistrate looked bored, playing with his gauntlets as he listened with only half-attentively to the Head Scholar. The war was his opus magna, that which was to immortalize his name in the histories forever. Staying in the capital to name his successor for the rest of the war was not part of his plans of immortalizing his name.
"Well, if you had simply told us that none of your wives and concubines had born any children much earlier, we could have made the decision in much less of a hurry," said the Head Scholar wryly. He took a scroll from his servant, a smallish man who managed to escape the Lord-Magistrate's notice for the entire time since he had stepped foot the Palace. The old man began to read aloud from the scroll, "Ha Fei Tsu, a governor of the Taiwan province. He is generally loved by his constituents there, well-experienced in dealing with wily Zu and foreign merchants. He is also the son of the sister of your father, making him the closest living relative of yours who has a background in bureaucracy."
"I will see him and you in a week, then," said the Lord-Magistrate, his tone not that of enthusiasm. The Head Scholar took a bow and left. Shao Shao Sung stood up after a few minutes, deciding to take a walk in the Palatial Garden. He did not care for a moment that the Sung Dynasty was coming to an end; so long as the Dominion was in able hands, it was to continue growing and prospering.
