20 The Banquet

Ming Cheng felt his eyes wide open in awe as he clutched at Lan Chang's sleeves as she let him hang by her side as she held up her jar of wine in both her hands, her keen eyes scanning the banquet hall to refill any empty goblets, constantly supplying all the guests with their liquid courage.

Ming Cheng had been tasked with picking up any empty plates, along with the rest of the children, and delivering instructions back to the servant's station to replace whatever plate and bowl that had just been finished off with more of that food.

His tiny stature, especially as he was stood next to Qi Tao and Wang Yuan, made him unsuitable for running back and forth to deliver the instructions and ferrying bowls to the servants, so he was designated as the one who would approach the tables to fetch the empty plates as soon as Qi Tao, with his keen eyes, spotted them. Qi Qing, the best spoken of all of them, would go ahead to the servants to report the food that was needed at the table, while Wang Yuan would carry whatever Ming Cheng had received, behind her, moving slower to not loose his balance and damage any of the precious, decorative porcelain.

The hall was lavish, the ceiling and walls inundated with gold patters imbedded into the wood and stone that made up the palace with long, sweeping silk curtains that covered up the windows enough to prevent anyone from the outside looking in, while at the same time allowing the night breeze to sweep through the hall, alleviating the uncomfortable warmth of some, who had consumed too much alcohol.

There was a grand table set up which ran down the centre of the room, beginning at the grand and intricately engraved doors where all the guests had entered and performed their bows in greeting to the Emperor, before taking their place upon it, those sitting closest to His Majesty with the highest favours, while those sitting closest to the doors were not so much in His Highness' graces at the moment, the entire table fully reserved for the nobles, the Imperial Ministers, and those of all diplomatic importance and the highest of magistrates.

They were snide to each other, as soon as backs were turned, with money passing hands underneath desks. As time passed, tongues became looser and looser, with insults traded among each of the men and the plots to assassinate this man, or poison some lord became more and more explicit. Friends turned on each other and enemies begrudgingly found themselves in alliances, as they looked down at the drunken rabble rousers who thought that they had become kings of the world with a few drops of booze down their throats, only the fear of the Emperor's retaliation keeping all the men in their places.

There were two tables running parallel to the giant, central one, meant to honour those generals, their children, and recently distinguished men from the war, their sacrifice and bravery received by the Emperor and were being awarded with the opportunity to dine in his grace. Those men who had strategized, led charges, and were highly respected among their peers, no matter the respect that they received in court, were sat closest to the Emperor, their efforts given the most praise.

The men there were more sombre, with some staring off into the distance, hearing the screams of the dead and damned that would haunt them for the rest of their lives, while others attempted to broach the topic of seeing hundreds upon hundreds slain all at once under a storm and rainfall of arrows, over and over again, sometimes shunned for bringing up those memories, sometimes finding solace in silent tears. The generals were mostly content with making their polite conversations, while others debated heatedly on what their next move in the war would be, unsatisfied at the bloodshed and carnage that they had already caused. One general in particular decided that this was the perfect opportunity to announce his retirement plans, while another seemed to have constructed his own reality where he would be able to easily demolish all the other kingdom's armies without a single thought put into strategy, as if ordering an army to charge was the be all and end all of being a general.

The man himself, who ruled over all the people in the room and the entire country that had once more been spared from the destructive clutches of war, through the use of the minor skirmishes that would truly never be remembered by history, sat with the rest of the Imperial Family, all dining at their own table, which stretched perpendicular to all the others and encompassed the full width of the banquet hall.

The place of the Empress was conspicuously empty, with his brother given the honorary seat next to His Highness. The two brothers conversed jovially with each other, their hand movements and gestures animated and mostly free flowing, the sharpness and deliberation behind each and everyone not lost on Ming Cheng who had seen those same movements from the women who worked at the brothels.

Each movement was calculated to ensure a certain opinion was formed in the hearts and minds of bystanders, and at that moment, the two brothers were looking to be seen as close with both having vested and long lasting interests in each other's professions and centres of knowledge.

"They do actually love and care for each other," the ghost lady spoke to Ming Cheng in his mind, causing the little boy to flinch.

"The king and his brother do love each other. There is no competition for the throne," the ghost spoke again, the most unbroken that Ming Cheng had heard it speak yet.

Ming Cheng quickly scampered back to Wang Yuan, who was waiting by Qi Tao, to receive the next plate and to deliver it, while Qi Qing had run ahead to give notice of the food that needed to be delivered.