“The Middle Kingdom“ - PART 1 - Chapter 1 - Placitan

“The Middle Kingdom“

PART 1

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Chapter 1 - Placitan

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Aster dove off the rock she was perched on and into the warm waters of the lake. She swam a few strokes out into the placid, breezy waters before turning back to the shore.

Her brother stood at the side of the water. She was surprised to see him here as he had been nowhere in sight a moment ago, but he did have a habit of sneaking up on people.

He was dressed like any other rice farmer, loose homespun trousers that fell to his knees, a light shirt and a wide brimmed straw hat, secured around his neck to keep the mountain breeze from blowing it off.

'Telor!’ his sister cried, 'What are you doing here?'

He smiled and looked up from the lake and across to the mountains, but said nothing. The air was sweet and clear up here.

The village was a hundred metres below them and the rice fields were at the same level. Below the village were the jungle forests of the rest of the kingdom and that's where the real sweltering heat was.

Up here though, especially around the lake, it was cool, and a favourite place to come swimming.

It was surrounded on three sides by forest, where mighty nirrin trees and other hardwoods grew. On the last side rose distant bare mountains. A waterfall could be heard rumbling in the distance at the other end of the lake.

'Came to see if you were here and going about without your hat on.’ he said eventually. Aster swam back out into the water, to keep a safe distance from her brother.

'I don't care if I get darker. I don't care what mum says.'

Telor shrugged.

'Just be thankful you are still too young to work.' Telor was eighteen, Aster was twelve. They both shared the same round happy face and flat snub nosed features. The brown skin of Telor's face was growing a sparse crop of black hair. The hair on his head he wore in a single braided tail in the peasant style.

'I'm not coming out!’ giggled his sister gleefully.

Telor laughed and stripped off. Running to the flat rock that was the favoured entry point of the lake he dove in. Soon they were both splashing about in the water.

After a while Telor waded towards the shore and then shaking as much of the water off as he could he started to get dressed again.

'You'd better go down anyway. Mum will be wondering where you are.'

'Shan't!'

Telor laughed, as he knew his sister was teasing him. He gave her a wave as he tied his hat back on and walked down the path to the fields.

Aster decided it was time to get out anyway. Her fingers were starting to wrinkle.

That evening, when they were all in their house eating dinner, her mother asked her,

'Where were you all afternoon young lady?'

Aster paused a moment before deciding to lie, 'I was helping Telor.'

'Really? She was helping you was she?'

Telor gave his sister a sly wink while his mother was serving some more soup.

'Uh, yes, she helped me pull out roots in the fallow pastures behind Copse Hill.'

His mum grumped, 'Did she have her hat on.'

'All day.' stated Telor.

'Well ok, ' their mother replied, 'Just as long as she wasn't swimming in that lake again.'

'Mu-um!’ groaned Aster.

'Well, you don't want to end up looking like those Groda girls do you? They spend the whole day running around in the sun and are as black as night. You need to keep your skin white so a rich man will marry you.'

Aster let out a deep exaggerated sigh over her soup bowl. She had heard this a hundred times.

Telor giggled to himself earning a clip round the ear from his mother with a wooden spoon. He laughed and rubbed it off.

Later their father came in from the fields and sat while his wife served him soup and rice. He ruffled up his daughters hair and clucked her under the chin,

'Not been swimming today I hope?'

'No father.'

'Well, you don't want a water ogre to grab you do you?'

'No father.'

He laughed and ruffled her hair again. A while after that it was her bed time.

Aster’s room was on the upper floor of the house. Like most of the dwellings in the village of Placitan it was made from clay bricks and straw. It had one large central room at the bottom where people could relax in the shade and the cooking was done, and two smaller rooms on either side that were used as bedrooms. There was a rough wooden ladder that lead to the thatched roof where food and other items were stored. Behind boxes and bales of cloth Aster had made her home, just big enough for a small girl.

There was even a small window for her to look out of, that gave a good view of the back of the village and the path down to the valley.

It was earlier than she normally woke up, that morning, but somehow she sensed something was going on. Then she realised she could hear people in the centre of the village, just down the street from her parents house.

She laughed and leapt out of bed. Dressing quickly she leapt down the ladder into the main room. She put her sandals on at the doorway and patted the goat tied up by the door on its nose as she rushed past.

'Hey hey hey!’ called her father from the house, 'Where are you running off to?'

'It must be the theatre, daddy! It must be them!'

She had already caught sight of the gaudily coloured wagons with the paintings of fantastical beasts on their canvas sides.

'Looks like you're right.' said her father as he lengthened his stride to catch her hand.

The travelling theatre came every dry season to the village and it was definitely the highlight of the year for Aster. She loved the shows and shadow puppets, and the stories of kings and princes, heartbroken queens and evil fire breathing dragons.

As they rounded the corner into the small village square, they could see that even though it was still very early, just barely dawn, people were coming out of their houses to see what was going on.

The first on the scene, thanks to his frantic daughter, Asters father was the first to greet them.

'Hello Agun.' he said, shaking the hand of a tall man who was stepping down from his wagon. Aster's father was a short man with an honest face, wrinkled with working in the sun.

'Hello Syang my friend! How wonderful to see you! Truly!'

'You are early this year? The jasmine has hardly started to bloom.'

'Ah, erm, yes indeed, we are early this year. Perhaps I will tell you why later.'

Edang, one of the village elders stepped up, and Agun took his hand and gave it a hearty shake too.

'Glad to see you, Edang, glad to see you.'

'Are you early for a reason? We have had strange tidings from the valleys..' Edang trailed off, still half asleep.

'Well yes.’ said the tall actor, addressing the assembling villagers, 'The truth is, we will not be staying all that long either. There is a draft on, and they make no exception for travelling players. We are heading east over the mountains.'

Everyone within earshot gasped, 'A draft!'

Aster pulled at her father’s sleeve, 'Daddy, what's a draft?'

'Hush child' he said as he pulled her tight against his side.

'What news friend Agun?'

'Not much of any good I am afraid. But I can tell you when we have set up. Here in the square is ok, as usual?'

Edang nodded, 'Of course.'

Agun signalled to the other travellers and they started to unload the six wagons and unhitch the horses.

'We travelled all through the night and a short rest might be in order...' , and then changing his voice from a normal tone to a crowd reaching bellow, '..and tonight there will be a show! A show, free to all, and like no other. Tonight we will present to you the story of ... Queen Beril!'

No one in the crowd knew who Queen Beril might be, but such was Agun conviction that his proclamation drew a round of applause and some cheers.

Aster was a frenzy of excitement for the rest of the day and buzzed around the kitchen at her mother’s feet asking her questions about the new play. As her mother knew nothing about Queen Beril, she was quickly exasperated.

'Go, go child! Go out and ask your father, he knows these things, and take the buffalo.'

Aster leapt up and went to the paddock at the side of the house to fetch the family’s buffalo.

'Come along Bango,' she said as she tied a rope through the ring in the old beast’s nose.

She gently lead Bango down the lane to the waterlogged fields, eventually getting to where her father and brother were working, harvesting rice, up to their knees in muddy water, bent over with large straw bags on their backs.

'Ah, here they come, the princess and her noble steed!' declared Telor.

'Put him over there,' said her father pointing to the field below the one they were working in, 'He can fertilize that patch for a while.'

Aster dutifully led Bango down the small joining path, the ancient beast grunting at the rheumatic pain in its knees as it descended.

'Daddy, who was Queen Beril?'

Her father stood up straight and arched his stiff back,

'Well if I was to tell you all about her, surely that would spoil the surprise of the story wouldn't it?'

Aster pondered this information,

'So there is a surprise in the story?'

'It is my understanding that there is a surprise in every story.'

Aster groaned, her father was in one of those moods.

'But what happens to her? Is she beautiful? Does she live in a castle?'

'Well, she is a queen yes?'

'Yes!'

'And queens live in castles don't they? You see, you don't need me as you know all the answers already!'

Aster slapped her hands down onto her thighs in girlish anger.

'Daddy!'

She hadn't got anything useful from her father at all, but that didn't matter, as it was the evening now and torches had been lit all round the village square to light the whole area, and the actors had put up the stage and any minute now the play was about to begin!

The story of Queen Beril unfolded before them. At first it all looked very promising, as the story was indeed about castles and dragons and brave young knights from the far of kingdoms to the west. But as the tale progressed Aster began to realise it was more a story for the adults.

Beril had only been fourteen years old when she became queen. Sensing that such a young monarch might be weak the kingdom was soon under attack from its neighbours and enemies. One such enemy was known as 'the Usurper of Tomsk' and was played by an actor dressed as a dragon. The dragon invaded the kingdom from the north and the poor young Queen fled to the mountains. To help get her throne back Queen Beril marries a young man called Prince Mirkin and together they defeat the dragon and regain her kingdom. But then Prince Mirkin is killed by assassins sent by the defeated but still alive and angry 'Usurper'.

The story then jumped forward to Queen Beril as an older woman, married again, but unhappily to a man she does not love, but who is strong and can protect the country from other invasions.

Despite this sacrifice though, her king proves to be unpopular and civil war wracked the land. The king is killed and Queen Beril is exiled to a neighbouring kingdom by the new ruler.

The story ended with Queen Beril's death, and the people of her kingdom realising that she had been the best ruler they had ever had having her body taken back to the capital city to be entombed forever in the largest temple. The current ruler was unhappy about this but realises the whole country loved this woman who gave everything for them, so he can do nothing. The narrator of the story then told the watchers that Beril's tomb still stands for all to see and she is revered in her country as the nation’s saviour.

The audience clapped and cheered the end of the play, although Aster was a bit confused as the story had such an unhappy ending. She hadn't lived happily ever after, her only sweetheart had died very early on in the story, and nobody had appreciated her until after her death!

Still she clapped and cheered along with everyone else, despite the plot she had enjoyed it immensely. The costumes had been lavish, the dragon terrifying and the battle scenes exciting.

As the crowds broke up to either go home, or to spend some more time in the square either drinking or eating, Aster lost sight of her father and decided just to head back to her house. She passed by one of the small tents that had been set up by the performers and chanced to look inside and saw a young woman sitting by a polished mirror removing her make up with a cloth.

The woman smiled at her and motioned at the curious girl to come in. Aster did so and sat on a small chest by the woman.

'What is your name?’ asked the woman.

'I'm Aster.' she replied.

'That's a nice name. I'm named after a flower as well, but not in your language. My name is Rose.'

As the woman removed her make up Aster realised that her skin was much paler than anyone else in the village.

'Hello Rose. Where are you from?'

'I'm from the same place Queen Beril was from. She was the Queen in my father's father's father's time.'

'Really? It was such a sad story though.'

'True stories are often sad.'

'Why did it have to have such an unhappy ending?'

Rose smiled and as she continued to wash the make-up from her face said, 'Was it really so sad? She saved her kingdom. She always did what she thought was right. And when she died, everyone saw how good she was.'

Aster thought about this, 'I suppose so...'

'Why is your skin so white?'

The woman laughed, 'Where I am from everyone's skin is this colour. Why is yours so brown?'

'I don't know', shrugged Aster, 'Because this is the way Gurjo made me.'

'Gurjo, your creation god. Yes, that could be so. But my people believe we were made by Etruna.'

'Who's he?'

'She. She is the goddess of nature, the forest, the cycle of life. Etruna is also the goddess of my people. Or rather was, worship of her is outlawed in my land now.'

'Why is that?'

'That's a long story little one. It is ... political ... I suppose. The old ways are being suppressed.'

'What does suppressed mean?'

The young woman laughed, 'So many questions!'

Aster looked up at Rose and realised she was the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. She also noticed something else.

'Why do your ears have points on them?'

The woman smiled self consciously and pulled her hair down over her ears.

'I get my ears from my father.'

Aster sighed, 'You are so beautiful.'

Aster could never remember making a grown up blush before, but that was what Rose was doing now.

'Tell me then Aster,' said Rose changing the subject, 'What do you plan to do when you grow up?'

'I think I want to be an actress like you. But most likely mother will make me marry some horrible old man.'

'There are many horrible old men in your village?'

'Loads.'

'You will have to marry one of them? You don't get to choose?'

Aster shook her head, 'No. Well, yes. I choose who I can marry, but who says I want to get married at all? Are you married?'

Rose laughed,’ No, I'm not.'

'Well, I would like to be like you.'

Rose was about to say something but just then Aster heard her name being called. It was her mother calling from the square,

'Oh! Sorry I have to go! Nice to have met you Rose.'

'And you, little daisy.'

As Aster go up to leave, Rose snatched something up and pressed it into her hand,

'Here, take this, and remember, we are all free do choose what we want to do. Oh, and tomorrows show starts at three...'

But Aster had already gone.

When she got home she looked at the thing in her hand. Aster had though the woman had given her a sweet or small cake, but in fact it was a polished brass brooch. It was circular, but in the shape of some strange long snouted creature that Aster could not identify. She thought of showing it to her father as he might know, but in the end she decided to keep it a secret and hid it upstairs in her room.

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A month later, the theatre visit was just a distant memory in a little girls mind. She had strayed a little more down the path from the village than she usually did, drawn by what she thought had been movement glimpsed through the trees. Her idle curiosity had been rewarded and she turned on her heals and ran as fast a twelve year old girl could, up the mountain path into the village and towards her parents house. Her straw hat had blown off to hang down her back and her long black hair streamed out behind her as she came.

'They are coming, they are coming!’ she cried in delight.

Ogang the blacksmith shook is head as she ran past. He was quite used to the little excitable whirlwind that was Aster Kentang. It was a sunny day in the village, a typical hot day, only made cool by the occasional mountain breeze off the lake. It would be hotter than hell down in the jungle valleys on a day like this he reflected as he stood and mopped the sweat from his brow. Just then he noticed that dust was rising from the path below that lead from Balehag down in the valley. Someone was coming after all.

He looked round for Aster but she was long gone.

Aster leapt through the open door way of her house and made her proclamation once again.

'They are coming!'

Her mother came out from the small kitchen at the back of the house, the smell of cooking rice close behind her.

'Who is coming child? And take your shoes off before you come in doors.'

Exasperated Aster kicked off her sandals.

'Men! Lots of men are coming!'

Aster's mother, a short plump woman with grey starting to show in her black hair sighed and stepped outside blinking into the daylight.

She wasn't the only one, other villages now, people of Placitan, were coming out doors as news spread of the newcomers.

Lin, Aster’s mother, glanced over the village roofs, as her house was at the back of the village she got a good view of the rest of it, at the fields and saw that the men were coming in from their work, drawn by the commotion. They were pushing the straw hats from their heads stepping out of the rice patches onto the causeway.

The cloud of dust advanced up the trail towards the village and revealed a troop of soldiers. They were dressed in the armour and trappings of the King of Kaletan, with wide straw hats to protect them from the sun. They carried spears, decorated with horse hair tassels painted red. At the front of the column, on horse back rode a warrior dressed in colourful splint mail, armed with a single bladed pedang [1] strapped to his back.

Without thinking Lin placed Aster’s hat back on her head, part of her perpetual battle to stop her daughter’s skin getting darker. Unseen beneath her vast hat, Aster rolled her eyes.

Her ire with her mother was soon forgotten though as the armed men came closer. Aster could count, as her father had taught her, and she counted fifteen men all together.

The men arrived at the village, just as its men folk came in from the fields. The apparent leader dismounted and pulled a roll of parchment from his belt. Aster gawked openly at him. He had a wide friendly looking face, but it was spoiled by a livid red scar on his cheek.

'Ahem', started the man, clearing the trail dust from his throat, 'By order and proclamation of the good King of Kaletan, it is hereby announced that due to pressures from the north, a draft is begun. All young able bodied peasants who be not married and be in good health, must report to the barracks at Rangung. The king recognises that each man is free in the kingdom and that the hard work of the rice farmers in the mountains provides a valuable resource to the rest of the kingdom. However these are grave times and the time has come for true born men to place the needs of their kingdom before the needs of themselves.

Those who be drafted are to follow the duly represented recruitment sergeant to the appointed place of embarkation, in this case Balehag, for transfer to Rangung. Here ends the proclamation.'

With one deft movement the soldier rolled up the scroll and replaced it on his belt.

By this time Aster’s father and brother had arrived and Aster had taken her father’s hand. Beside him stood Edang, the village elder. He approached the soldier and said,

'Will your men take some water? Some rice?'

'Ah, yes thank you. My name is Cintor, sergeant at arms of the royal army.'

Edang nodded and tugged on his long white beard, 'I am Edang. Village elder.'

Some of the girls went to the well to get water for the soldiers. Aster looked at them. Most of them were no older than her brother, Telor, who was eighteen. Suddenly something dawned on her and she started shrieking and crying,

'No! No! Don't take Telor away! No!'

Her mother started crying too, but scooped her up and carried her away to the house,

'It no good love, it’s no good crying,', but Lin was crying too.

           

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It was as simple as that. The next morning Telor was saying goodbye to his weeping family. Even her father was crying, something Aster had never seen before. Telor seemed almost to be happy about it. He wasn't very big for an eighteen year old, and as his mother tended to feed him too much, he was slightly on the plump side. He was a popular boy though, in the village, and was well liked, even by the elders.

Other men who were being drafted were forming up in the centre of the village. Cintor the sergeant was standing nearby. So far just twelve men were milling around. Some were being tugged at by girl friends or mothers, but all appeared ready for whatever fate was going to offer them.

Telor grabbed his pack by the door and put his wide brimmed peasant’s straw hat on. He walked over to the gathering men.

Having already cried her eyes out, Aster grabbed her brother’s free hand and tightened her grip.

As they arrived at the centre, and old man called Hyn was talking to the sergeant,

'Please, your devotion to your king does you credit, but you must have seen at least fifty summers. At the moment we are taking only the young and the able.' said Cintor

'Huh!’ grunted Hyn, 'I was in the Imperial Cavalry! I may not be young but I am able. I fought at the battle of Ryson, and skewered five men on the end of my lance!'

'I am sure that is true. But why join the army again? Stay and tend your crops.'

'I am not married and have no family. My brother would be delighted to take over my fields. I want to do my duty again. I fought for the king’s father, he appreciated his warriors.'

'The proclamation is very clear.'

'Let me show you something.'

With that Hyn walked across the village centre, past the well and to the open gate to the fields. He took a clay jug from a nearby cart and placed it on the gate post.

He then marched back and took the reins of the sergeant’s horse from the stupefied young soldier who was holding them, and leapt up into the saddle. In an instant he grabbed a spear from another soldier and spurred the horse into a gallop. Scattering everyone in his path, causing lots of cries and shouts he rode at full speed towards the well.

Everyone gasped has the horse leapt clear over it and landed on the other side. Still at the gallop he then went for the gate. As the horse leapt over it, Hyn brought down the spear and neatly lanced the jug, which fell in pieces to the ground as the horse landed and galloped off into the fields.

He soon turned, and as the soldiers opened the gate he came to a halt beside Cintor,

'Well?’ he said, handing the spear to a soldier.

'Ok, you have made your point.' replied the sergeant shaking his head, 'Fall in.'

The farewells had been tearful and terrible. As they marched, Telor did his best to forget it. Hours had passed and still they marched, but at least it was all down hill to Balehag. The column consisted of the sergeant out in front, the fifteen or so soldiers in the middle and the twenty or so village men behind.

There was an old soldier at the back too to keep them in line and make sure no one straggled behind or ran off.

Most of the men were silent as they walked, although some talked excitedly about what the future might hold.

Hyn fell into step beside Telor.

'Ah hello young man, are you ready for war do you think?'

'No, probably not, but they will train us won't they?'

Hyn made a 'pfft' noise and then said, 'They might show you how to stick a spear in a sack of straw if you are lucky.'

'What do you know of the enemy, the people of the north? You have fought them before?' asked Telor.

'Who do we only ever fight? The people of Ju are necromancers and devil worshippers. They go into battle crazed on drugs and bloodlust.'

Telor shuddered.

'Why do they always fight us?' asked Telor trying to disguise the tremor in his voice.

'They have ruined their land.', said the old man, 'Their god has spewed his ash all over everything and nothing will grow. They either demand tribute or take what they need by force. They see everyone south of the rift as soft targets. To them we are just fruit to be plucked from the tree.'

Telor gulped, 'But we defeated them last time they invaded.'

It had been before he was born, but Telor new all the tales of the last war with Ju. The battle of Ryson, the slave catchers and the eventual closing of the rift passes.

'Yes, but how many thousands of Kaletan people are still slaves up there? We pushed them back, but in truth I think they already had what they wanted.'

Telor sighed and readjusted his pack.

'The Flower War. Always seemed like such a strange name for a war to me.'

Hyn grunted, 'They named it that, not us. Either out of contempt for us, or because our side of the rift is so much more verdant than theirs...'

Hyn trailed off, something was happening up ahead.

The sergeant had met a traveller on the path and was conversing with him, leaning from the saddle.

After a while he nodded and turned his horse to the rest of the troop.

'Yang will take the conscripts to Balehag, I will take ten men to the village south of here that has not had the draft yet.'

And without another word he split his men and dismounting from his horse lead it straight into the forest.

Yang, the oldest of the soldiers and the man that up until now had been bringing up the rear motioned to one of the other three remaining soldiers to fall in behind and lead the conscripts off again.

As they set off Telor said, 'That village he is going to doesn't even have a name, it's just a collection of fishermen's huts.'

'Yes' replied Hyn, 'They probably know nothing of the war there. Probably didn't even hear about the last one come to that.'

Yang, who was nearby had overheard,

'Believe me, the King needs every man he can find. If this isn't enough there will be a second draft. From what I heard, the King wants to do everything not to have to start calling up married men.'

Hyn nodded, 'Or too many farmers. Tell me, how may times has he split up like this.'

'I've lost count' replied the old soldier amiably, 'But we were a full company when we set off from the marshalling point.'

Hyn whistled, but Telor said, 'How many is that?'

'About a hundred and fifty.' replied Yang matter-of-factly.

'They are sweeping out every corner of the kingdom'

'Yes', grunted Yang, 'I feel like I've marched up every single pissy little valley in Kaletan.'

They reached Balehag two days later.

..

If you enjoyed this, then get the rest of the story here :D

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[1]               A short sword