Cocoon by Amanda K. Johnson (rosie project .txt) 📕

such a way that he is the one who is remembered. His moment of destiny is approaching. He is sure of it.


The battle begins with a blast of wind.

An Shirin may have allies from Catalonia supporting his claim to the land, but they do not have the authority of the actual Catalonian court. Elisa has enough troubles of her own to ask for more by siding against the emperors on any matter. The Ghirans are needling her along her southern border and she cannot seem to even control her own men. She is not foolish because she is a woman, but because that is her nature. Ilekano does not much care for her. The heir apparent is better.

"Which side is weakest?" Ilekano wants to know.

"Side of the wall, you mean?" Fado clarifies. They are not speaking in the same terms. For this reason, there are going to be misunderstandings. Fado has known this will happen, partially because it has already happened before. Still, there is only so much he can do. His emperor will do as he wishes. No one can truly tell him otherwise.

"Of course, the wall. Assuming An Shirin has sense remaining he will focus his efforts on defending whatever part of the wall is naturally weakest or has been made weakest through our offensive. For that reason I want Lindini and the War Mages to focus on that area, creating as big a fuss over it as they can manage as cover for you and I. You will circle to the west and I will circle to the east and we will reconvene on the side opposite from Lindini's position. Bring ladders or men with the magic to sculpt a wall for scaling. The whole thing cannot be protected from transformation- and if it once was, that coating has certainly worn off by now. There is no magician so strong in Shirikh to hold up a paling over the whole place that long."

"You're correct in thinking so. Lindini has had limited success already with chipping out bits of the wall and hurtling them back to smash their defenses," Fado notes. Ilekano is serious now, not that he was joking before. He has come to the end of his patience with this tiresome province. The state of Shirikh has been renegade far too long. What stubborn spirit pervaded that bushy-whiskered An Shirin and kept him from surrendering when he still had a chance? From the moment the First Imperial Army marched to Shirikh it was a foregone conclusion that he would fall. Had he capitulated early he could've secured himself something- a title, a castle, some military post- but by fighting, he has forfeiting everything. He had a wife and child or so Fado had heard. What were the chances Ilekano would show mercy on them? He had a heavy hand, and not only that, he was proud of it.

"Which side is weakest, Fado? You haven't answered my question."

That was true. He hadn't. It was no jab. It meant nothing more than a lapse of memory as he wondered at the fate of Sola Av Shirin and her child. He had heard she was very beautiful. "It's the south, Your Highness."

Ilekano laughs at the predictably of his army. They have been facing the south side of the fortress for most of their time here. Inevitably they would focus their attack on the closest target. He knows it is the nature of most men to do such things, but he finds it amusing that they would not expect him to call them on such slothfulness. In the end they are right. He hasn't. He has a good army because he has good men.

Suddenly he likes Fado again. If he likes his men, how can he dislike Fado? Fado is first among his men.


Night falls on the day after what was not the last day. Ilekano's earlier suggestion of a possible week remaining proves wiser than his hopes for final day. Still, he is pleased with what he has accomplished. His combined attack with Fado was quite destructive. Yet more important to him, as a man, not an emperor, is something that came after.

He feels like he is dreaming when he thinks of what transpired in that zelkova grove. The woman he met there is sleeping now in his tent, the son of An Shirin at her side. With her he has made a better deal than any he managed to wring out of the states that surrendered. He wants to let her sleep in peace, so he wanders the camp, just looking at things. Everything he sees makes him smile, but not with his teeth. When he bares his teeth he is intimidating. When he smiles with only his lips, he is friendly, paternal, more man than emperor. For the first time in a long time he likes himself better in his capacity as a man than as an emperor.

He climbs to the lookout post on the ruins on his own. Fado is not there, nor is there a sentry posted. Under other conditions he would be annoyed and go back into the camp to see what kind of error has led to this lack of vigilance, but now he is happy to be alone in the cool night air. The stars are rising over Shirikh and he speaks a few words to himself and to the night, pleased by the sound of his own voice. "So that's that."

He feels like singing, but doesn't want to ruin the moment. He likes how he sounds when he speaks, but not when he sings. He only likes to sing when he knows his own voice will be drowned out by those of his men or his courtiers or his sons. He leans against the wall and hums instead. His humming is fine. Maybe the woman will sing for him.


He tells Fado about the woman the next day over breakfast. He is eating as heartily as ever. As emperor, he can choose to eat whatever he wants wherever he is. He doesn't try to make things hard for his chef, but he does ask for volume. Fado is only nibbling a little ham on toast with his tea. Ilekano wonders how it is that Fado manages so well on so little. Perhaps he has a stomach condition that dampens his appetite.

"The lady you met in the zelkova grove," Fado asks when Ilekano is elusive about his meaning, "She is Sola Av Shirin, am I right?"

Why is his general so downright somber as he poses this question? Ilekano fills his mouth with a particularly large forkful of scrambled eggs to gain a bit of buffer time before he must answer the question. He needs to do some chewing to allow his gut reaction to run its course. Can't Fado be happy for him about anything anymore?

Fado knows he has done something wrong as he meets Ilekano's eyes over the table. He wonders at himself, that he did not pause longer or weight his words better. He is not usually so brusque. Perhaps Ilekano is rubbing off on him and he is rubbing off on Ilekano. Their traits are becoming rather mixed these days. He'd swear that there's some poetry in the emperor now, even if it only appeared along with this woman.

Ilekano swallows his annoyance along with his food. He is finding new reasons to hold his temper. Sola would not want him arguing on her account. She would not be shy about who she is or what she has become. She was noble to do what she did for the sake of her son. Ilekano thinks he likes pragmatic women. His brother likes them stupid.

"That she is," he relents. Although he has decided not to be angry with Fado, he still hopes that his man sees the way he stabs his fork into the slices of ham. "I am not angry, but I could be and have every right to be," the gesture means. He is an emperor, and accustomed to getting his way.

Fado does not look annoyed or defensive, but wistful. "I would like to see her sometime," he comments. "Is she as beautiful as they say?"

"I had not heard them say it, but she is beautiful," Ilekano is glad to announce. This is a side of Fado he has not seen. Clearly the general is at least a little jealous.

The last of his anger leaves him.


The prophecy of one last week is fulfilled. Fado is the one to meet Camwyn in his desperation. This is a man who wants to be finished. He can tell.

He does the finishing, without cruelty or comment. An Shirin does not know his wife and child are in the hands of his enemy. Fado thinks it best that he dies with the hope that they managed to flee into the safety of Catalonia. This might not be the worst fate they could suffer, but for a man of honor, it would be the hardest to swallow.


Ilekano feels quite glorious indeed when he returns to the capital. Fado rides a little ways behind him at the head of the column. They are welcomed with cheers and flowers- the doing of Emperor Tiokihawa who greets them with two bouquets of daffodils and crocuses. They are his favorite flowers and Ilekano doesn't fail to notice this concession to the tastes of a man who has never set foot on a battlefield, let alone taken part in any aspect of this specific campaign.

"Say a few words," Tiokihawa invites them, assembled before their men and all the court.

"I hope that the steps I have taken these past few years will bring forth another golden age for the Silesian Empire. I did not do battle from Osaffria's gates to the edge of Shirikh for the enjoyment of some fleeting glory, for myself, but for the sake of all my lands and all my citizens. On this day celebrating our victory, may we all be immortalized together! We are one Silesia once more!" Ilekano proclaims, holding his bouquet above his head like a sword.

"Fado?" Tiokihawa asks, seeing that his brother, after the cheers have subsided, has nothing more to say.

"Thank you," Fado tells them simply, “None of us could have done it on our own."

"Modest, isn't he?" the younger emperor laughs.

Because of the crowd before them, Ilekano and Fado laugh too.