The Twelve Kingdoms: Dreaming of Paradise

had to smile. He was simply raking himself over the coals, confessing to his treasonous crimes all over again.
    Shaking his head, he tore up the letter. "Even now I feel a compunction to apologize to His Highness—"
    The only reason he wanted to Shoukei to understand his actions was because he wanted Chuutatsu to. Because by repaying Shoukei he could somehow atone for his own sins. Because Shoukei empathizing with his actions would somehow equate with Chuutatsu condoning what he'd done.
    But what good would words directed at her father through her do for Shoukei? If any apologies were due anybody, Shoukei was the only person who could benefit.
    Gekkei sighed to himself and stared out the window. His rooms in the Naiden clung to the steep slopes of the mountain. The window faced the administrative annex of Youshun Palace. He could see as well the waves of the Sea of Clouds pounding against the shore. The dark, muddy appearance of the water's surface was due to the thick clouds blanketing the world below. It was spring, and the rains were unusually fierce for this time of year.
    Indeed, the Princess Royal had long ago left these shores. No one in Hou need spare a thought for what would become of her henceforth. They had to keep this ship of state afloat, keep it from being dashed to pieces upon the rocks. When a kingdom lost its king, every leak below the waterline was evidence of a dozen more yet to be discovered.
    Hou would continue to founder. The kingdom had already begun to list. In better times, the people of Hou survived working in the forests and on their farms. But the rains were heavy this year. The sun scarcely shone and the forage barely grew in the fields. The cattle wouldn't fatten without fodder and the people would be left with nothing. The droughts of summer and the snows of winter were the inevitable consequence of violating the Mandate of Heaven.
    Gekkei had killed the king. But the rain fell on the just and unjust alike, and the people would taste those bitter fruits as well. He had the responsibility to return their king to them, someone with the determination to provide a firm rudder, a leader with the strength of will to protect them.
    "Someone who could learn from Shoukei's example."
    She had found the courage to account for her sins and stand before the Royal Kyou. If nothing else, she was no coward. And like her, he should carry his own yoke and make himself ready to stand tall before Hou's new king.
    There was only one apology that he truly owed Shoukei: Forgive me for taking your father from you.
    Tomorrow morning, General Sei would set out for the Eastern Kingdom of Kei. Tell her I wish her well, were Gekkei's final words to him. At some point in the future I should like to see her again.
    Until then, these would be the last thoughts he would spare her. The Princess Royal would soon become another forgotten memory. There were so many people besides herself that needed to be saved.

Pen-pals
    he Imperial Palace floated on the Sea of Clouds, perched along the edge of the overhanging cliffs as if to take the entirety of the world below into its field of view.
    This was Gyouten Mountain, the capital of the Kingdom of Kei. At the ninth station of the mountain that held up Kinpa Palace, a small skylight was tunneled into the white mountain wall. The skylight opened. A bird flew out, turned to the northwest, and sailed away.
    The bird's vivid plumage resembled that of a phoenix. It soared over the territory of Kei, straight as an arrow towards the soaring, mountainous border. Three days later it arrived at the capital of En and Kankyuu Mountain.
    The broad avenues spread out from the base of the mountain. Crossing the sky above, the bird skimmed across the tiled roofs of the buildings hugging the mountain. These roofs were elevated only slightly above the rest of the city. It headed for the one furthest in, burrowed into the flank of the mountain, and alighted on the window sill.
    The window looked out from a room chiseled into the rock. Kankyuu Mountain was part of the Imperial Palace and the Imperial government. The room was quite modest and simple. Though the tool marks on the stone walls and floor revealed the work of skilled artisans, the space was graced only by worn and weathered table and chair.
    The setting sun illuminated the curtains drawn across the stone-carved bookcase and bed, as if shining through clouded amber.
    The bird tapped on the glass with its beak. At the sound, the person