The back ways were foreboding. Enclosed on all sides and damp and the only light coming from the sinister glow of the red-stones, placed as they were in iron cages at even intervals. It suited Aki. The clack of his cane echoed a great distance, a sharp clack-clack-clack particular to his own internal rhythm: irritation. The wound in his leg hadn't quite healed, with every step came a jab of pain, and not inconsiderate – but he had no time to lay about. The Consortium convened. Possibly intentionally behind his back.

'Politicking little gnats', he spat under his breath. His appointment to General of the Gates had been swift, all but instantaneous after that fiasco at the lake. The Emperor issued the edict before Aki had awoken, word, supposedly, of his deed penetrating the inner sanctums of the palace scant minutes after the near disaster had been thwarted. True, he had not been the only brave soul there that night, but he had been the only brave official. There would be no telling the destruction those beasts could have wrought had they made their way across the lake, found some section of wall unmanned or worse yet unbuilt, and unleashed themselves in the middle of the capital.

Still, bravery was not a virtue to all men. The Consortium, by and large, did not like new and sudden additions to their ranks, and certainly none that had strong wills and ideas to match. Aki had learned of this meeting by chance, by a passing servant, as he was on his way to the training grounds, leg be damned. And now damn it twice, he would have to move swiftly. This was part of reason he was clacking down the hidden enclosed passages that burrowed their way through the whole of the palace. The other part was surprise. He could spring himself on the other eight. Emerge right into the council chambers, as if through the wall.

Appearing where unwanted, from somewhere unexpected, was the greatest feat a General could perform. This alone often won battles. Perhaps it would be enough today. He was not entirely without allies in this coming fight, Monterio, General of the Interior, in particular found Aki's propositions sound. Not only should there be greater guard this side of the gate, but an outpost on the other side should be founded. Defence in depth. This the crucial point of contention among the others. Tomoni lead that faction and its resistance, and her influence was great. Indeed it was by her hand that the rituals before every outing, and on every return, were conducted. She was very devout. Not entirely without intelligence either, prudence was a good idea: her's was simply the wrong kind. The God's could not be counted on to protect the Empire better than the strength of her own arms. Tomoni would be won over, or she would be rolled over. It did not matter which.

Here it was, the recess in the stone with the brass handle. It would lead into the council chambers, entrance hidden behind free standing decorative walls. It was difficult to open, and required Aki to set aside his cane and grip the handle with both hands. Most typically a troop of servants would accompany any official down in these warrens, to guide firstly, and to open the heavy doors. Aki needed none. His former post of Minister of the Guard left him well acquainted with every square inch of the place. And though his years had grown long, though he was wounded, his strength was not altogether gone. The door yielded with a heavy creak, showering Aki's pointed cap in dust. A score of the others would judge him for this, for them the state of ones garb, the cut of his hair or beard bespoke more than deeds. Let them judge so. Let them be proven wrong.

“...I am merely asserting that since our esteemed colleagues appointment, our productivity is down.”

“This cannot be laid entirely at his feet. Conscripts make poor soldiers. There have been markedly fewer volunteers since last week.”

Laughter, harsh and deep and masculine. Mocking. “Are your ledgers so precise then, Zinon, that you can account for the entire industrial sector in a week?” That would be Monterio, gruff, but not altogether smart.

“They are. We know to the half day. Soon we will be out of fuel.”

“Money is not our principle concern this day,” Tomoni's voice in a graceful bird song, no doubt said halfway behind a fan decorated with her house sigil, a grey heron in reeds.

Monterio was growing hot in the face as Aki clacked past the mountain scene painted on the decorative wall. All voices grew silent. Fire sputtered in the six braziers placed around the room. Here red-stone was not trusted, more of Tomoni's doing. She felt the glow unnatural. She felt it as something alien to and not favoured by the sky-king, and his wife the sun. Red-stone, when used as a light, gave off no heat.

Zinon frowned openly, creasing his long face. He did incline his head however, on spotting Aki, though with what was no doubt a scowl hidden behind the great sleeves of his robe. Monterio grinned, and gestured to the open cushion by the long and low table around which the officials, the Consortium, were seated.

Chancellor Joben, at the head of the table, had to twist around to see Aki. His face, as usual, was unreadable. The man was the eldest in attendance, placing him at seventy summers. But his mind was yet firm, and all present in this room knew that it was he, over the Emperor, that they served.

“General of the Gates, we are pleased you can join us,” he said. His voice matched the crinkles of his face, the drooping of his bushy brow. Like charcoal rubbing.

“I am sure,” Aki said, the palm of one hand catching his other fist several inches from his chest, head bowed for the proper courtesy paid to ones better.

“We were not sure you were prepared to walk so far, what with your most recent display of bravery,” Tomoni was quick to add, smiling behind her fan. Her porcelain, though surely painted skin making a pleasing oval framed by long silken black hair. All about the table save Zinon and Tomoni wore the plain unassuming robes of the official, richly woven, though muted greys and greens and blacks. Tomoni's was a soft blue morning sky-blue, with pink flowers as embroidery, her bow, tied and fanning about the small of her back, was a deep purple. Zinon was a little more rash. He wore the coat with the high collar that had been popular with the richer of the merchant caste as of late. An alien design.

Aki was careful not to let the pain show on his face, though his lop-sided expression was clearly irritated. “I am not so hurt as to shirk matters of my duty, Mistress of Ceremony.” Though his leg ached, though he was acutely aware that his face would never sit so straight ever again.

“Then you are most welcome. Perhaps another stout heart will convince Zinon to cease his petty counting and get to the task at hand,” Monterio said.

“And what would that be, exactly?” Aki said, irked at his own sharp intake of breath on sitting himself down. He unconsciously massaged his wounded leg beneath the table.

“No other than that which concerns your heroics, good General,” said Kintaro affably. He was seated furthest from the Chancellor, bespeaking of certain prejudices against his position, Minister of the Masses. It was his duty to represent the millions of citizens across the Glittering Empire. He was not often successful, but that did not diminish his good cheer.

The Chancellor raked his fingers against the table and pursed his lips. “It is indeed, though Zinon's concerns are not secondary, they are the same matter.”

“Which is precisely what I have been saying,” Zinon said.

“Would you shut your-” Monterio was cut off by a glance by Aki.

As General of the Interior, Monterio was technically Aki's superior, but the younger man knew well of Aki's prowess on the battlefields of yesteryear, and was happy to consult, or even differ to the older man.

“So, speak true then, and plain,” Aki said, catching the eyes of each of the eight about the table, something in the dark of Mako's eyes had him rest his on her, she sat directly to the right of the Chancellor. Her hair was tied in a bun, her mouth a thin line.

“Your earlier propositions, General,” Mako said.

Zinon sighed, “Made on his sick bed.”

A casual glance by the Chancellor forestalled any further comments.

“Yes. We were deliberating on the detachment of the the second Prefecture guard to the other side. The logistics of such an operation, the cost, the..” and here the Chancellor rolled his hand, “potential for agitation.”

“And I have naturally given my consent. The homeland is secure, there is no need for such a force idling,” Monterio said.

Tomoni laughed, soft, from her post dead centre on the left side of the table. “It is not men, who walk under the Mother, that we are afraid of, Monterio. We know well how secure we are from men, it is the unnatural elements that we fear. Before last week, how many incidents have we had?”

“Only one,” Mako said, “of the calibre you speak.”

“I speak of all calibres, Secretary. How many young men lost, and not merely bodily? Are the heavens one over there? Can a soul navigate the gates? How many more souls will we damn to twist upon themselves until they become demons? How can we be sure that those things over there are not just that, how are we so certain that we are not plumbing the very depths of hell for glowing stones?” Tomoni's composure diminished as her voice rose, but her words stirred quite a few about the table.

There was worry on a fair few. Fear.

“We are not here to debate metaphysics,” Zinon said. “But the cost in materiel, the construction of a permanent base would be unwise. The wall here remains incomplete, and every day the overseer petitions my clerks for more workmen, more slaves. We use them up quicker than General Satoshi can ship them across the sea. And even here the additions to the palace proceed at a crawl. This, naturally, discounts the expansions to the harbour, to the factories. We simply do not have the manpower, Chancellor.”

“Ah, yes. Your precious smoke-belchers, the ugly monstrosities obscuring my view of the ocean.” Monterio spat.

“And would you have Satoshi short of spears? Short of the wondrous new artillery, at present breaking the walls of some far off city? It is our precious factories that make this possible.” Zinon's point was not lost on the Consortium. Not the least of it, not the threat veiled. With the plundering of the gates, with the wondrous new stone and its many applications, acting as steroid to industries old and worn, to ones discovered new, came too a startling class of men. Rich, perhaps more than the Emperor himself. It was these sorts that controlled the factories, it was to these men that Zinon referred to.

“Now, now. Tomoni only raises questions that are on all our minds, twice those things through is two times more than enough. And Zinon's concerns all too apparent. There is no need to grow hot,” Kintaro leaned over and splayed his hands on the table, eyes closed, grinning.

Tedious. Tiresome talk. The inner sanctum was full of the mundane. Of spineless whelps bickering endlessly. These were no concerns of Aki's. Not the spiritual, not the material. The expeditions, as well as he himself on the bloody beach taught everything needed to know. Whatever is over there can be killed by honest steel, and whatever it is, is dangerous. His grip was tight on his cane. He had hoped to accomplish more today, not yet had he even mentioned his ultimate goal: true exploration, an honest scout and assessment of the threat from over there. In the eight years since the discovery of the gates, since their widening large enough to march through, little had been learned of their true nature. At first it was taboo enough to even acknowledge their existence, until that first bloody rock had been carried back over. Things had changed. For one it had a natural glow, easy to excite the imagination – if cut, it cast deep red light. For two, alchemists discovered quickly its utility in explosives. How one could grind it up, put it to torch, and it would burn hot and fierce for longer than anything known to man. In short there was money to be made. Thus the pious were beat back. The industrialists lead the charge. Taboo was superseded to almost common. By this line of progress, it would be another year, perhaps two, that the gates became public knowledge. Tomoni was eager to prevent this. She foresaw riots. Aki foresaw her position overturned. The official story was the stones came from somewhere deep within certain special mines of the Emperor, and the common man thought them holy, surely a gift from the Sky.

“I do not give one wit about manpower, or matters of the spirit. The facts are simple, they have taken part of my leg,” Aki said, bringing his cane from his side to place on the table. “We must be better prepared, and not only here. At the other gate as well, and if there are two, there are more. We need to organize a search.”

Zinon scoffed. “What you propose is not only the building of a fort, but the formation of a whole new agency. Where would you draw these men from, for this search of a grain of sand on a beach? And their wages?”

“From the Prefectures. You've heard the General of the Interior, we have no fear of invaders, nor of brigands. The homeland is secure.”

Monterio nodded, eyes distant, no doubt already calculating how many men he could pull, and from where, and what percentage he might trust.

“Then it will be done.”

All eyes shifted to the Chancellor.

“Zinon, Monterio and Aki will convene to make it so.”

“I will not be left out, Chancellor. If no one else is afraid for our mortal souls, I will be for everyone else.”

The Chancellor nodded.

“As far as manpower is concerned,” Kintaro rose his hand, “I might be of some assistance.”

An unexpected victory, and swift. Aki regarded the Chancellor with a new respect, and wariness. Perhaps there were more allies here than he thought. Perhaps there were plots buried deeper than top-soil.

Tomoni's addition to the committee would prove a problem, if she were allowed to make one.

It was a start.