The pale green sun sits upon the throne of noon like a baleful tyrant. He keeps for himself a place at the crest of the sky, the head of the heavenly table from which he can look down upon his subject. Highest are the greater planetes, whom each he gathers at his side: three in number and his closest confidants. Reflections of his majesty glitter upon their faces like the light of stars in day. Beneath them, lower to the base earth and broader in their girth are the fat ramblers, who meander about the horizon like great marbles, each the size of a hundred mountains. Painted blue, and red, and white, and green, they tumble across the lower sky in some grand cosmic dance that only high scholars understand the meaning of.The glare of summer brings a baleful heat to the garden where you lay down in the shade. Twice so because this year is the Sun King's Conjugal, where the Night Mother comes round to her lover and he surrounds her with his light. It happens like clockwork every eighth turning of the sun, and for that turning of the seasons the days become half again as bright, the seasons warm and lustrous. Winter becomes spring again, spring turns to summer, and summer becomes a devilish season too hot and humid for decent clothes, until at last fall arrives and the Night Mother slowly drifts away, to return again in eight turnings. Summer shall remain for two more turnings of the moon yet. The only reason you can bear to be outside is because the devilish season has yet to reach its zenith, and even so you feel as though you may soon melt."It's hoooooooooooot..." the voice of a young girl complains. Your voice is that of a girl born eight turnings past, a child of the last Conjugal Summer, born as the season waxed and the heat at last began to wane. Conceived as the Sun King embraced his lover. An auspicious birth."Then go back inside," another girl not one turning older than you tells. Another daughter of the palace where you live, born to a maid and content with her lot. Not like you. For one, she takes better to the heat. "It's nice and cool in there, ya wimp.""No way..." You refuse. After all, this is nothing. If a little heat can make you give up and cower in the palace halls, where icecloth hangs among the tapestries to turn the heat of hellish summer cool, then you have absolutely no chance to...a) master the bladeb) master magicc) inherit the throned) visit the planetese) avenge your motherNone know your father... but he is most likely the emperor. Before she passed, and you became another palace girl, you mother was...a) his favored concubineb) his third wifec) a dancing girl he knocked upd) the rare woman amongst his guardse) spoils of the last war he took for his own
>>6012789b) master magicf) hedge witch mazela
>>6012798+1Trans queen mazela
>>6012789>c) inherit the throne>e) spoils of the last war he took for his own
>>6012789>c) inherit the throne>e) spoils of the last war he took for his ownIf she's a hedge witch, too, more's the better, But not Mazela. All my real niggas hate Mazela.
>>6012789>c) inherit the throne>c) a dancing girl he knocked up
>>6012789c) inherit the thronee) spoils of the last war he took for his own
>>6012789>c) inherit the throne>d) the rare woman amongst his guards
>>6012789e) avenge your mothere) spoils of the last war he took for his own
>>6012789a) master the bladee) spoils of the last war he took for his own
"...if I let a little heat get to me, no way is Papa gonna make me his heir!" you declare your convictions. The convictions your mother left you. A daughter of a conquered people, whose king knelt to the Throneworld after the boy-emperor came from the sea. He took her in the dead of night and made her his twenty seventh bride by the might of his charisma, and his dreadful skill with the sword. "The Sun-king's glare is nothing!"And nothing it must be. For you will need strength of body, mind, and soul if you wish to sit astride all of Throne and the Planetes Ten Thousand over which it rules. Though fire conquered ice, every flame flickers out in time, and the only thing inevitable is the march of mountain carving glaciers.At least, that's what mother said, before the heat finally took her to the Night Mother. Throne does not have glaciers. So close to the Sun King's emerald eye, all ice melts away and turns to water. Even the heaviest winter is gone before the end of spring, and even the high places, the far north and south, have no permanent caps of white. At least that's what the scholars say.Your dear friend Anke says something different. Her tan face, framed with red hair, twists into a playful smirk as she teases, "The ice girl's gonna melt~"You retort with the only words that come to mind: "Am not.""Little Schnee's gonna melt~" she rolls over and forces you to suffer a terrible indignity: tickling."Am nooooooooot~!" you complain through fits of laughter. "Anke, stop iiiiiiit!""Not until little Schnee admits she's gonna turn into a puddle," she declares, refusing to relent in her assault on your most dignified personage. "Snow children need to stay nice and cool during the summer heat if they don't want all their growth to melt away, don't you know? 'Sides which, mum will kill me if I let her dear lady's daughter turn into a puddle. So, will you walk, or will I have to carry you back to the palace?"You ponder it for a moment, and then come to a grave decision. "I'll walk... but just because you're worried about me, not because I'm gonna melt! I'm not really made of snow, ya know...""Could have fooled me," Anke quips, ruffling your hair and taking your hand so you won't escape. Silver hair, silk so pale it's almost translucent, and eyes as blue as the winter's sky. The Sunking's glare and the fiery Conjugal Summer most of all mean few on Throne share your fair appearance. Thus, despite being only 108th in line for the throne, you already have a moniker: the Winter Princess.Now that your dear friend and handmaid Anke has dragged you inside, you can't escape your...a) magic tutorb) "dancing" master (actually fencing)c) dancing masterd) sewing instructore) history teacher
>>6013607e) history teacher
>>6013607>b
>bGoing to ask the real question here: will we be cute and funny?
>>6013764
>>6013764>>6013768Not in the weird way, no.
>>6013607>c) dancing master
>>6013607c) dancing master
>>6013607>e) history teacher
>>6013607>b) "dancing" master (actually fencing)
The icecloth tapestries that line the stone halls of the palace provide relief from the Sunking's summer glare, cooling the structure to a much more reasonable temperature than the blaze outside the walls. Each of them holds a piece of Throne's history, from the crowning of the Flower King to the conquest of the Outer Ring. Your mother has a place of prominence at Papa's side in the very last of these, for her decision to kneel before your father brought the Planetes of Ice and Snow into Throne's embrace peacefully.The same cannot be said of all its thousand conquests.Your mother knew the wisdom of the Kings and Queens who knelt before the throne and kept their lordship for their fealty. That is how she earned a place of prominence among your Papa's Hundred Brides. Throne brought the joys of unity and civilization to those who knelt, and to those fools who refused, the tapestries tell their stories.Men slaughtered in the streets. Women taken as spoils for the soldiers who showed great valour. Their works broken and shattered by spell and cannon fire, their armies put to the sword, their daughters collared and auctioned to the highest bidder. Your mother wore a golden collar as a matter of ceremony, but so too did every other woman among your Papa's brides. For that was how things are and were, and only wise women had the privilege of gold. Foolish and recalcitrant brides wore silver, and the laws they lived by were far more harsh.As your mother did, as your father does, you intend to rule the Planetes with wisdom, which is why you point your loyal steed Anke - who carried you in the last stretch of unbearable heat outside - towards the library. Only there can you sharpen you mind with the greatest whetstone of them all: books.Histories, accounts, and a hundred thousand archives, those are what you desire most. You almost make it there, draped over Anke's back, when you hear a voice you dread."And where are you two going," the voice is deep, but nasal in its tone, a voice that turns your face pale."Library," innocent Anke answers, blissfully unaware how she doomed your plans. The heat hit you too hard to stop her. "How do you do, Master Dieter?"A stout man from the Greater Planetes, those huge worlds that reflect the Sunking's grace, gives a stroke to his voluminous beard. "I am well, young Anke. Though I believe that's my student you have slung over your back. Little Schnee is due for her dancing lessons.""Schnee," the traitor girl prods you. "You told me you had this hour free.""..." you say nothing. If you say nothing, you cannot lie."Come now, Schnee, no excuses...." Dieter says, taking you from Anke. "Tired as you are, I think we can make some progress on your footwork today. Yes, I have just the exercise in mind..."a) chasing stray catsb) catching fish with your handsc) ballroom dancing with your brotherd) the dance of lashese) walking up a waterfall
>>6014628c) ballroom dancing with your brother
>>6014628>walking up a waterfall
>>6014628>c) ballroom dancing with your brother
>>6014628>d) the dance of lashes
>>6014628>c) ballroom dancing with your brotherthe most torturous of them all
>>6014676Come on guys, waterfall walking!>Walking up a waterfall
>>6014628>a) chasing stray cats
Mother hired Dieter to instruct you in "dancing".That, of course, was a euphemism. The women of Throne would be scandalized to hear that a girl was learning the use of a sword, for it is not Throne's way. For upon Throne a woman's beauty was her shield, her silver tongue her sword, and the finest silks and jewelries made for armor just as impenetrable as magos smithed plate. To take up arms was to lower herself to a lesser status, for such things were the realm of men, and outside of the High Lords who held the strength to rule, menfolk were disposable and interchangeable creatures to the ladies of the court.To act like a man was a humiliating thing. To learn how to fight as a man does was not a sign of strength, but rather weakness and poverty, for if a Lady of the Court had to fight her own battles... she must have truly fallen. Yet that is just how your mother carved her path to prominence before the sickness took her, for while the sword might not be Throne's way, it was the way of the Outer Planetes.How could a woman call herself a mother if she could not defend her children with steel? How could a lady call herself graceful if she did not know the silver dance of the dueling sword? How could a woman call herself beautiful if she had no scars that told her story?The softness of the Throne's Women disturbed your mother greatly.The bloody path she carved through the courts, repaying grave insults with injury and death, earned her the moniker of Bloody Snow. Some day, you might do the same, but at your age you still have much to learn. Footwork, stances, how to put your whole body into each and every stroke and cut, they must become second memory to you. Dieter taught you subtly, through strange tasks that rarely had anything to do with sword work... all to keep it hidden from your enemies.Today's, however, you couldn't help but complain. Anke forced you out of your shift and into some terrible and constricting gown, and now she follows dutifully behind Dieter as he leads you to your doom. You give the dwarf a pleading look, and beg to know: "Do I have to?""You'll be learning the steps of King Karl's Waltz, which itself is rooted in the sword-forms that form the foundation of-" Dieter begins to ramble about the storied and honored history of the Outer Heron school of swordplay. All the information flows in one ear and out the other, never taking root in your mind. By the time your eyes are no longer glazed over, you've arrived at the dancing hall. "-in short, this will teach your feet how to move through each step in Form 1, 3, and 7.""Kaaaaay..." you tell him, your mind absent. "But who's gonna be helping me learn, anyway?"a) Caleb. You like him the most. b) Gregor. You barely know him, but he's okay.c) Hektor. Your biggest rival for the throne!d) Robar. He's easily manipulated.e) Sieghardt. The skirt-flipping JERK.
>>6016101>e) Sieghardt. The skirt-flipping JERK.
>>6016101>a) Caleb. You like him the most.
>>6016101>b) Gregor. You barely know him, but he's okay.
>>6016101>Gregor. You barely know him, but he's okay.
>>6016101>c) Hektor. Your biggest rival for the throne!
The answer comes almost as soon as you ask the question. Not because anyone told you the name of your dancing partner for today, but from a dreadful and familiar feeling that hits you before you see or hear him. A chill around that even the thin skirt of your summer smock should have warded away, the touch of the breeze and the draft in a place where it should not have been. Of all the palace boys your age whom you may call your brother, there is only one who would brave your icy wrath by doing that.Sieghardt.Sieghardt van der Meer, a young boy brought by Papa's seventy-eighth wife when he took the widow of one of his governors as his bride. Dark hair with blue highlights, and a favor for the elaborate fashions of the Middle Planetes. His blue summer shirt is trimmed with gold thread, as are the poofy shorts he wears for the season, and he wears a grin upon his face that you wish to wipe off.""Take that!" He says, not a breath after you feel the chill he always brings. You can hear the grin in his voice as he asks you: "Aren't you getting a little old to wear bear prints? Surely my favorite step-sister has matured enough to move up to-"a) Kick him in the headb) Kick him in the ballsc) Kick him in the shoulder and send him sprawling on the ground.d) Punch him in his stupid, smug facee) Be a big girl and hold back your impulse to smack him.
>>6017328>Kick him in the ballsBears are cute, you fucker!
>>6017328b) Kick him in the ballsJust keep going till anger subsides
>>6017328>b) Kick him in the ballsNew court eunuch, incoming.Only kidding, but threaten him with it if he keeps it up. Why did we pick the skirt flipper??
>>6017328>e) Be a big girl and hold back your impulse to smack him.
>>6017359Because people on the internet are weird. I personally don't might writing fanservicey stuff, but that's gonna wait until (you) are older. They may have managed to cotton on to his hidden attribute of being Not Blood Related and the Childhood Friend(?) romance option later.
I vote for the most fun or interesting options. Simple as.
>>6017328>b) Kick him in the balls
Before the little shyster can say another word, you've given him the sweetest smile in the world and slammed your foot into the place your mother taught you to kick men and boys who bothered you too much. Alas, rather than striking something soft and tender that would turn his voice into a girl's, you foot crashes into something hard as steel. It seems learning has occurred from the last time he flipped your skirt, though from the pained expression on his face it's clear his protection is imperfect.Without letting the sweetness fall from your face, you tell him that, "You cheated. You're not supposed to wear armor to dancing classes, Sieg."Sieg's lips thin as he tells you that, "I wouldn't have to if you didn't keep kicking me there.""Well maybe if you didn't flip my skirt every time I saw you, I'd stop." With those words, you cross your arms and make a haughty sound. "But I wanna know what kinda underwear you're weari-" Sieg starts, but Dieter puts a firm hand on his shoulder and gives him a look you know all too well. It's the look of a man who doesn't want to tell you that the next word out of your mouth will hurt far more than it helps. "Sieg, no more flippin' the young lady's skirt," the dwarf tells him with a squeeze to his shoulder. As Siege gives a reluctant affirmation, Dieter's eyes turn to you, and you already know that he's going to chastise you as well. "Schnee, tempting a target it might be, don't go kickin' poor Sieg down there. It isn't right, especially since the boy kindly volunteered ta help ya in your trainin'.""Kaaaay," you tell him. You know both you and Sieg will only keep the promise for a week, maybe two, but that should be long enough to master the footwork of this dance.a) Half ass your practiceb) Half ass the dancing, focus on the footingc) May as well go all out>Roll 1d100
Rolled 99 (1d100)>>6018330>c) May as well go all out
Rolled 51 (1d100)>>6018330>May as well go all out
Rolled 91 (1d100)>>6018330c) May as well go all out
>>6018330>c) May as well go all out
>>6018342>>6018438My god you guys killed him.
Rolled 28 (1d100)>>6018330c) May as well go all out
With a sigh, you and Sieg take to the center of the practice hall, where a pattern of tiles shows you where to stand. The smug grin on his face when he rests his hand upon your waist melts away when you squeeze down on his shoulder, not quite loud enough to crack. Taking his right hand in your left, your fingers intertwine with his and let sigils that brand your palms touch and exchange Yours is the crest passed down to you from your mother. It takes the shape ofa) A blood red heronb) A pure white snowflakec) A night black stard) A golden yellow roseSieg's came from his father. You do not know its nature, for it is rude to ask unprompted, but it is something that ties the both of you together, loathsome a thought that may be. Children rarely bear them, for they are as much a gift of magic as a sign of the head of a family. Scions of the palace who carry them are even rarer, for though a daughter may be given to the Emperor in tribute, all but the lowest family would be loathe to give over their high mysteries over to the Throne. Yet both of you do. Sigils inherited from deceased parents who bore those marks themselves, making you both unique among the children of the palace. Not a dozen more of the two hundred and fifty seven children bear such a mark, and most of those are of their own crafting.Yours and the dragon-mark on Sieg's palm both carry a heavy weight, a hundred generations before you.Which means that even if you detest the boy, even if he derives some perverse joy at flipping your skirt, you both take your dancing lessons quite seriously. From the moment that Dieter commands the Etherhorn to play its song, every emotions stills. Your distaste for Sieg, your weariness at practicing the same dance yet again, even the sense of satisfaction you have from seeing Anke's sparkling eyes as she beholds your graceful rendition of King Karl's Waltz.Every movement is perfect. Every step, every twirl and pirouette, every motion carries unthinking perfection. To his credit, Sieg is no less flawless in his execution from start to finish. The shifting tiles on the floor, guiding and measuring and chastising imperfection... they have no complaint today.And when you finish, Dieter has this to say: "Well done, my students. I believe this will be the last time we perform this exercise.""Really!?" Sieg jumps with excitement, his blue eyes sparkling. Your response is more muted, because you can only think of, "What's the next dance we need to master?""None." Your dancing Master's answer surprises you. "I think it is time to see how you both fare afield. As soon as I can manage it, we shall be taking a trip. Until then, I think it best you practice dancing of a different sort."He throws the two of you a pair of practice swords. The tiles soften beneath your feet as he touches a sigil on the wall and demands that you: "Begin."Roll1d8 for location5d8 for time1d100 (Bo3) for the spar
Rolled 2 (1d8)>>6019227>d) A golden yellow rose
Rolled 8, 6, 2, 5, 1 = 22 (5d8)>>6019266
Rolled 77 (1d100)>>6019268
Rolled 90 (1d100)>>6019227
Rolled 42 (1d100)>>6019227a) A blood red heron
>>6019227>d) A golden yellow roseThe snowflake is kinda too banal.
Rolled 9 (1d100)>>6019227>a) A blood red heron
>a) A blood red heron
Yours is the mark of a blood red heron. Specifically the likeness of the blutreiher, a noble crimson bird that rules the ice hewn plains of your mother's homeworld with its graceful talons. Neither bear nor wolf nor icy lion dares approach the bloody heron lest their guts be spilt out to freeze upon the snow. The apex predator that even patrols of snow troopers keep at a respectful distance, acknowledging its mastery over the tundra.That crest is an old one, and it holds many mysteries within its blood red circuitry.Mysteries that strengthen the body. Mysteries that sharpen the senses. Mysteries that let you taste the magic upon the air and teach you the flavor of spell that Sieg weaves unto himself.Deepest of these mysteries is Severance: the concept of taking something whole and splitting it into its component parts. You only know its most basic expression, and even that your mother cautioned you against using lightly. Anke, Sieg, and Dieter have all seen you wield your magics, but not even they have seen your use of the Deeper Mystery of the Heron. Nor will you use it in a spar, for all too easily can severance of an object become a bloody mess. CLACK. CLACK. CLACK.You and Dieter chase one another around the dancing hall, each aiming for a solid blow and intercepting with your practice swords. Both of you broke away from your bad habits of aiming for your opponent's sword when you were little, and now you actually fight like swordsmen. Too well matched, for you both know one another's tells, and read eachother like a book. Dieter watches on in satisfaction as his two pupils at least meet his expectations, while Anke looks on with sparkles in her eyes.Sieg is almost getting on to that age where he'll have reach and strength both in spades against you. He already can match you well, when not a month ago you felt like you had an inch upon him. The fight drags on, much more of a burden than it used to be, even if you have grown well used to the leaden cores of the practice swords. But you intend to win it all the same, and you know Sieg's bad habits well enough.You pin his sword down to the ground and spin into a twirling hook kick. Your leg goes high, he easily dodges backwards and slips his weapon free... just as you intended.Sieg's eyes bug out when he catches eye of something he should not have let distract him, and you take full advantage. "Where are you looking, Sieg?"Darting forward, you step through and into his guard and knock his sword clean from his hand. Your aggressive footing breaks his stance, and he tumbles to the ground. Your sword pointed at his chest calls the end of the spar. Your face twists with distaste when his only words are, "Worth it."Dieter coughs out a dry chuckle and chides him that, "It will not be worth it when a beautiful woman cleaves your head from your neck, Sieg. Schnee... I normally would chide you for such tactics, but feel free to continue with them until that foolish boy learns."
>>6020035It takes Sieg six turnings of the moon to stop falling for that trick, and even nearing two turnings of Throne about the Sun King later you can still catch him off guard with such tricks from time to time. Growing further into your womanhood has made such distractions easier, even if you've long since lost your advantage of reach. In the time of these two turnings, you have learned much of sword and mystery still; and even further of history! One lesson that stuck with you was of the Severance of how man keeps time, from the old way and the new. The Long Night and the Breaking of the Cradle changed many, many things, not the least of which was how long periods of time were measured. Archaeologists believe the Cradle's turning was not but 365 days, much shorter than the 549 day turnings of Throne. They called it a year, which came from an even more ancient word for the season of spring, and one was not considered an adult grown until their 18th birthday.You think it quite lucky that the ancients got more birthdays. They were all great celebrations as well, or so the archaeologists believe, with grand feasts where a dish called pizza would be piled high in little boxes for all to share in, and fountains of nut flavored sugar-water would pour freely.There will be a celebration on the eve that you become 10 turnings. At fifteen of the ancient's "years", you will no longer be a girl child, even if it shall be five more turnings until you are a woman grown. Old enough that Dieter will finally have permission to take you and Sieg on that training trip he promised, near two turnings past. Before your birthday, before that trip, you must prepare something to prove that you are no longer a girl and can fend for yourself. a) Take to the waters off the coast and bring back a Kingfish.b) Arrange for the catering of your debut yourself.c) Convince the Governor of your homeworld to send you the head of the rebel leader that was recently captured.d) Take a boat trip to the savannah and bring back the pelt of a lion.e) Trick Sieg into pretending to be your fiance, securing an alliance between your two houses.
>>6020036>b) Arrange for the catering of your debut yourself.
>>6020036>a) Take to the waters off the coast and bring back a Kingfish.Sounds like a fun trip. More exciting than catering, surely?
>>6020036>Take to the waters off the coast and bring back a Kingfish.
>>6020036>e) Trick Sieg into pretending to be your fiance, securing an alliance between your two houses.
>>6020036>a) Take to the waters off the coast and bring back a Kingfish.
>>6020036>d) Take a boat trip to the savannah and bring back the pelt of a lion.
>>6020036>b) Arrange for the catering of your debut yourself.>A man who knows how to conquer in battle also knows how to give a banquet and organise games.-- Aemilius Paullus
