Memory: Learning about Grandmother's death and attending the state funeral! Game: Cops and Robbers, Day 67
Montage is a grown woman in this memory, 33 years old. She is working in the imperial capital as the vice-magistrate of the capital region. She doesn't judge cases herself, but oversees investigations of crime and corruption in the capital and nearby provinces; a prestigious position.
While arriving at the palace precinct one morning for work, with one her husbands and her wife (in a fancy carriage drawn by giant flightless birds, natch), royal messengers throughout the city proclaim that her grandmother, the Sun Empress, has passed away that morning. For both her and her husband, their duties were relieved on that day. (Her wife, being an official involved with the coordination of public rituals, however, had much work involving the upcoming funeral.)
This, obviously, is bad on both a personal and political level. She discusses it with her husbands, (named Ohtli and Nahuiyaotl) at home. There had been rumors she was sick, and she was certainly quite old, but nobody had expected her death to come quite so suddenly. Although they had only met a few times and didn't know each other personally, Montage knew that the empress was rather fond of her, and Montage always looked up to her.
They also discus a political conflict that had been brewing for a while. The Empress was a reformer who wanted to introduce more meritocracy into the imperial government and weaken the control noble houses had on the economy in favor of commercial guilds. Many conservative nobles opposed the empress, and supporters of reform, including Montage's aunt and other members of her family. Montage's close family were reformists, and they worry that if conflict erupts, their children could get caught in the crossfire.
After the discussion, Montage goes to check on her children: twin girls by Ohtli, and a boy by Nahuiyaotl. She eats lunch with the children, but doesn't tell them what happened yet.
Four days later, the funeral ceremony takes place. It is a magnificent occasion. Normally, during a funeral, all relatives and close friends of the departed must mourn publicly for four days, taking on a disheveled aspect as they fast and cover themselves with dirt and dust, weeping and wailing. However, since the Empress is the mother of the nation, much of the populace is required to mourn in this way if they can, for at least one day, and four if possible. It is a powerful and cathartic experience.
So for four days you and the other great nobles weep and fast and parade through the streets, hair matted and loose, wailing and singing songs of mourning. The Empress' body is embalmed and wrapped in a bundle, and that bundle is carried in an ornate coffin that you help carry through the streets of the city.
Spirits in many and bizarre shapes materialize throughout the city, the very protector spirits of the Empire revealing themselves to the people and weeping. Ghosts process through the streets by night. The experience is strange and cathartic, like the world itself has become something different in shape.
On the fourth day the Empress' body is burned and the family members, along with those many spirits have a grand ceremony in view of the public. It is long, arcane and tiring, and you give a long and eloquent speech, as do many family members. Ominously, your hated archconservative aunt gives a long speech about restoring order and new beginnings. You fear that the Chamber of Speakers shall elect her the next Empress.
After the ceremony, everybody finally bathes, and feasts, purified from your ritual uncleanness. The spirits and ghosts disappear. The empire returns, cautiously, to its rhythms. But nothing will ever be the same again.
Memory 2
Game: Cops and Robbers, Day 67
Montage is a grown woman in this memory, 33 years old. She is working in the imperial capital as the vice-magistrate of the capital region. She doesn't judge cases herself, but oversees investigations of crime and corruption in the capital and nearby provinces; a prestigious position.
While arriving at the palace precinct one morning for work, with one her husbands and her wife (in a fancy carriage drawn by giant flightless birds, natch), royal messengers throughout the city proclaim that her grandmother, the Sun Empress, has passed away that morning. For both her and her husband, their duties were relieved on that day. (Her wife, being an official involved with the coordination of public rituals, however, had much work involving the upcoming funeral.)
This, obviously, is bad on both a personal and political level. She discusses it with her husbands, (named Ohtli and Nahuiyaotl) at home. There had been rumors she was sick, and she was certainly quite old, but nobody had expected her death to come quite so suddenly. Although they had only met a few times and didn't know each other personally, Montage knew that the empress was rather fond of her, and Montage always looked up to her.
They also discus a political conflict that had been brewing for a while. The Empress was a reformer who wanted to introduce more meritocracy into the imperial government and weaken the control noble houses had on the economy in favor of commercial guilds. Many conservative nobles opposed the empress, and supporters of reform, including Montage's aunt and other members of her family. Montage's close family were reformists, and they worry that if conflict erupts, their children could get caught in the crossfire.
After the discussion, Montage goes to check on her children: twin girls by Ohtli, and a boy by Nahuiyaotl. She eats lunch with the children, but doesn't tell them what happened yet.
Four days later, the funeral ceremony takes place. It is a magnificent occasion. Normally, during a funeral, all relatives and close friends of the departed must mourn publicly for four days, taking on a disheveled aspect as they fast and cover themselves with dirt and dust, weeping and wailing. However, since the Empress is the mother of the nation, much of the populace is required to mourn in this way if they can, for at least one day, and four if possible. It is a powerful and cathartic experience.
So for four days you and the other great nobles weep and fast and parade through the streets, hair matted and loose, wailing and singing songs of mourning. The Empress' body is embalmed and wrapped in a bundle, and that bundle is carried in an ornate coffin that you help carry through the streets of the city.
Spirits in many and bizarre shapes materialize throughout the city, the very protector spirits of the Empire revealing themselves to the people and weeping. Ghosts process through the streets by night. The experience is strange and cathartic, like the world itself has become something different in shape.
On the fourth day the Empress' body is burned and the family members, along with those many spirits have a grand ceremony in view of the public. It is long, arcane and tiring, and you give a long and eloquent speech, as do many family members. Ominously, your hated archconservative aunt gives a long speech about restoring order and new beginnings. You fear that the Chamber of Speakers shall elect her the next Empress.
After the ceremony, everybody finally bathes, and feasts, purified from your ritual uncleanness. The spirits and ghosts disappear. The empire returns, cautiously, to its rhythms. But nothing will ever be the same again.