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“Your Majesty, forgive my frankness, but you have been drifting off in thought with increasing frequency of late. Should this persist, it may well invite rumours among your subjects.”
“I apologise. But...I simply cannot fathom it!”
At this very moment, within the solemn and spacious throne room, the new Emperor was discussing state affairs with his counsellor. Though to be precise, the new Emperor was receiving admonishment from his counsellor.
“Mind your language,” the counsellor remarked, pressing his temples. “At all times and in all places, you must maintain the dignity befitting a sovereign.”
This admonition drew a weary sigh from the new Emperor.
Though the counsellor frequently corrected the young monarch’s words and deeds, it must be said that this ruler had already demonstrated remarkable competence: When the late emperor fell in battle, he did not wallow in grief but promptly convened the coronation ceremony. By dawn the following day, clad in armour and sword in hand, he led his forces onto the battlefield as sovereign. After three days and nights of bloody combat, he utterly routed the enemy; In the ensuing era of peace, though not yet fully adept at managing complex state affairs, he had already mastered the art of appointing capable ministers to govern wisely. Within months, he had secured the loyalty of twelve royal councillors within the parliament.
Moreover, setting aside his exalted titles, the new Emperor was merely a nineteen-year-old youth. Compared to his peers, he had enjoyed little unrestrained freedom. That he occasionally showed some indolence amidst his political duties now seemed hardly unreasonable.
The counsellor understood this well. Truth be told, he himself was no advocator of tedious formalities, but he insisted on them to shield the young monarch from criticism by his subjects. Besides, having grown up alongside the Emperor, he knew his master’s temperament intimately. Seeing his brotherly king so troubled, he could scarcely bring himself to lecture him further.
“Enough, enough. Since it’s just the two of us, there’s no need for formalities.” The counsellor adopted a similarly casual tone. “So—still agonising over her?”
“Yes!” The young monarch sighed deeply while fiddling with a fountain pen on the table. “Tell me, why...why can’t she understand my heart?”
The unspoken “her” referred to the High Priestess of the temple—the youngest and most exceptional among them, the same age as the new Emperor. When the late emperor still reigned, he often had his young son attend the grand priest’s teachings alongside other pupils of the same age from the priesthood academy. It was in such settings that the new Emperor and the High Priestess had first met. Beneath the laurel trees, their fragrance faintly wafting through the air, the future High Priestess held parchment scrolls in her hands. Her gaze was clear and resolute as she discussed her reflections on divine oracles and doctrine with the grand priest in a voice still tinged with youth. Dappled light and shadow danced across her cheeks, swaying with the breeze. From that moment, the future Emperor had been captivated by her.
Yet over a dozen years passed, and the High Priestess seemed oblivious to the new Emperor’s feelings.
“Having heeded everyone’s counsel, I refrained from further foolish attempts to capture her attention. When she refused my gold and jewels, I wrote her letters and composed numerous poems for her sake. Yet after reading them, she merely sought to discuss their rhythm with me. I presented her with a scented pouch filled with rose petals and herbs; she accepted it, but never once seemed to open it. Whenever I spoke with her of romantic love, lovers, and marriage, she invariably steered the conversation back to a monarch’s duties, then admonished me just as you do...!”
“She was mindful of the distinction between sovereign and subject,” the counsellor reminded him. “Your advances were too overt. Even if you wished to choose her as your companion, she would never leave the temple or forsake her devotion to divine service.”
“No. I never intended to imprison her with my authority,” the new Emperor confessed with anguish. “Truthfully, I am content with our present state...yet I yearn for our bond to deepen. Just a little.”
She would patiently explain the shifting paths of stars and the waxing and waning of the moon, never withholding divine blessings from him. Why, then, would she not accept his love?
The counsellor pondered for a moment before suggesting, “Perhaps you might ask her what it is she truly desires.”
The young king nodded thoughtfully. Since jewellery, love poems, and flowers failed to move her, he resolved to ask plainly: what rare treasure must he offer to touch her heart?
·
The new Emperor ascended the marble steps of the temple, pacing through the quiet corridor; shadows cast by the columns alternated with moonlight, his figure moving between them. Then, at the heart of this solemn hall, he found the one he sought: the High Priestess sat there, surrounded by scrolls and books piled at her hands and feet. Candlelight flickered, illuminating statues frozen in the heroic poses of deities, casting inscrutable shadows across faces both majestic and merciful. Yet the new Emperor paid them no heed—he had no time to consider whether his behaviour might profane the gods revered by all in this land; his devotion was reserved solely for her.
The High Priestess, sensing his approach, lifted her gaze from the sea of books and offered him a respectful greeting.
“A deeply inquisitive child posed several questions, and I found myself unable to provide a perfect answer—may the gods forgive me.” She explained to the new Emperor why she remained in the temple at this hour. “However, tonight I have meticulously reviewed the works of our ancestors. With a little more organisation, I shall be able to fully resolve her doubts by tomorrow morning.”
Speaking of her insights into knowledge, the High Priestess grew animated, her eyes sparkling with fervour. The new Emperor gazed at her in rapt attention, recalling their childhood days studying alongside the grand priest. Even then, she had been the most brilliant among them. Now, she was ready to mentor the children of the priesthood academy.
“You are truly remarkable,” he murmured sincerely. His words carried both admiration and pride, as if sharing in her glory.
Yet the new Emperor did not forget the purpose of his visit: “Actually, I wish to ask you a question...is there anything you desire?”
The High Priestess remained immersed in the ancient books, oblivious to the new Emperor’s intent. Without pause, she replied, “I desire nothing.” Her hand never left the scroll as she continued copying.
The king pressed on, “You always seem so free of want... Yet surely everyone has a few things they long for?”
Without lifting her gaze, the High Priestess replied, “Those who serve the divine should harbour no excessive personal desires. Moreover, with a wise ruler such as yourself governing the city-state, I am already content.”
The latter part was indeed the High Priestess’ sincere sentiment; she had not deliberated before speaking, merely expressing her honest thoughts and feelings. Yet upon hearing this, the new Emperor’s cheeks flushed crimson.
“But I truly want to grant your wish! The gifts I’ve given you before—you never seemed particularly fond of them. I want to make you happy, so whatever you ask for, I shall fulfil it all!”
“I really haven’t—”
“Go on! It's alright!”
The High Priestess finally lost her train of thought. She set down her brush, feeling both exasperated and amused: throughout history, one would scarcely find another who pleaded so earnestly for acceptance of their gifts—let alone when that person was the sovereign of a realm. In truth, she was not as unromantic as the new Emperor described: she had once tenderly stroked the love letters this young man had sent her, murmuring aloud the clumsy yet fervent rhymes; She knew the properties of every medicinal herb and the language of every flower in this land, so she recognised that scented pouch as a token steeped in affection without even opening it. To this day, she kept it tied to her bedside for peaceful slumber... Yet she remained convinced that the young Emperor ought not to indulge in personal affections, nor fix his thoughts solely upon her, thereby neglecting his sovereign duties.
Yet she never imagined that even without her response, the new Emperor’s affection would only deepen with each passing day.
Moonlight streamed through the central skylight in the dome, flowing softly between them. The High Priestess gazed upon the new Emperor’s hopeful face—that handsome visage bathed in moonlight stirred something within her.
Suddenly, she felt the urge to tease this young man. And this would surely leave him utterly helpless, granting her the peace to devote herself to her studies, while teaching him to know when to back down.
“Then... I shall take the moon.”
“...The moon?”
Just as she had anticipated, the new Emperor frowned in disbelief.
“I want the moon,” the High Priestess declared, feigning capriciousness. “Did you not say you would grant me any request?”
·
“Your Majesty, I fear you have misunderstood,” the counsellor said feebly. “She merely wished you to withdraw gracefully, not to pluck the moon from the night sky for her. Besides, that is simply impossible.”
“But if this matter is left unresolved, I shall lose my appetite and sleep,” the new Emperor insisted stubbornly.
“Perhaps you could present her with an alternative gift in lieu of the moon,” suggested the attendant beside the new Emperor. “For instance, you could issue a decree permanently bestowing the moon upon her.”
The new Emperor shot the attendant a withering glance. “I think you ought to stop reading those rather dubious books.”
With that, he sighed deeply. “She wouldn’t appreciate such commonplace gifts...”
The counsellor grew slightly impatient: “Why not present her with a basin of water when the moon rises? ‘Behold,’ you might say, ‘I have bathed the moon in water for you!’”
“How utterly perfunctory! ...Yet, now that you mention it...” A spark of inspiration lit the new Emperor’s eyes as he slowly rose to his feet. “I believe I have thought of something.”
·
“I hear our king has been rather busy of late.”
The speaker was the High Priestess’ confidante, the diplomatic cardinal of the priesthood, who was now absentmindedly applying the crimson juice of impatiens to her own nails. She had intended to adorn the High Priestess’ fingertips with this fashionable nail polish too, but the High Priestess had politely declined.
“That’s a good thing,” replied the High Priestess, her attention fixed on revising the hydrological distribution map.
The diplomatic cardinal raised an eyebrow and smiled. “Are you not at all curious what he’s occupied with?”
“Hmm,” the High Priestess tilted her head. “Likely preparing for an inspection tour.”
She continued, “he invited me recently to accompany him to a small town in the northern region of the capital. Apparently, the tidal patterns there have been somewhat unusual.” Her tone was as light as if discussing an everyday trifle.
“Hold on. Are you saying the king and you—alone—are going to that town?”
“He’ll have his counsellor handle routine affairs. It’s only two days; nothing will go amiss.”
“That’s not the point!” The diplomatic cardinal pressed a hand to her forehead. “Consider this: there’s never been precedent for a monarch undertaking an inspection tour accompanied by someone from the priesthood. And from your description, I find it hard not to suspect our king is using official business for personal gain.”
The High Priestess set down her writing implements. “How could that be? He merely wishes to take me, with my expertise, to inspect the coastal waters.”
“Oh? And not to seize the opportunity for a little private time together?”
The High Priestess, usually stern and impartial, finally let slip a hint of less-than-proper emotion. She feigned annoyance: “It's strictly official business! Don’t go spreading rumours!” With that, she reached out to pinch her friend’s nose in retaliation.
The diplomatic cardinal deftly sidestepped her: “Don’t come near me, my nails aren’t dry yet.”
Thus, the two young women bickered playfully for a while. As they parted, the diplomatic cardinal flashed the High Priestess a sly grin: “If anything does happen, you must tell me the moment you return.”
“Alright, alright. I’ve told you, nothing will happen.”
Yet despite her words, was this truly just an ordinary inspection tour? After bidding farewell to her friend, the High Priestess pondered silently: on the invitation letter the new Emperor had handed her, besides the brief description of that coastal town, there was one line that had caught her attention.
P.S.: The moon awaits your collection.
·
A week later, the new Emperor and the High Priestess boarded a secretly prepared carriage and slipped away from the capital while dusk was still faint. By the time they found lodgings at their destination, the moon had risen. Before setting out, both had meticulously disguised themselves, so throughout their journey, people took them merely for an ordinary young married couple. To avoid undue attention, the High Priestess made no effort to clarify her relationship with the young man beside her. She merely smiled without comment, giving the new Emperor a discreet pinch on the arm when the latter gushed, “yes, we’ve only just married!” However, when the innkeeper “thoughtfully” offered to arrange a double bed for them, the new Emperor firmly declined: “You misunderstood, we are not that sort of couple. Two single rooms will suffice.”
Come to think of it, though he’d frequently shown affection towards her since childhood, he remained quite restrained in public settings, never causing her any unnecessary trouble. The High Priestess mused. Yet he hadn’t managed to conceal it from his closest confidants—his counsellor and attendant, for instance, or her own dear friend, the diplomatic cardinal...
Weighed down by weariness and memories of the past, the High Priestess soon drifted into slumber that night.
The following morning, after a simple breakfast, the pair headed to the town market. Descending the stone-paved path along the hillside, they could see the white dwellings spread out at the foot of the mountain. Near the harbour, the breeze carried the sharp, briny scent of the sea. The seabirds here showed no fear of humans, strutting confidently past pedestrians and snatching up discarded food scraps. The market bustled at this hour, crowds flowing like a river, their chatter mingling with the clanging sounds emanating from the bronze smith’s workshop. To avoid losing each other, the new king took the high priestess’ hand. They paused at stalls selling fruit and seafood, then feigned curiosity as they inquired about prices at the pottery vendor’s stall. Throughout, the new Emperor feigned the role of a husband on a seaside honeymoon with his wife, ostensibly inquiring about the town’s attractions while subtly probing stallholders about recent harvests, local security, and the burden of taxation. To their relief, they heard no complaints or grievances along the way.
“After the war ended, pirates and bandits vanished from these parts entirely,” remarked the jewellery shop proprietor, a gentle and devout middle-aged woman, making a gesture of prayer as she spoke. “May the gods bless our king.”
The new Emperor could scarcely conceal his delight. He couldn’t help but pull the high priestess over to try on several exquisitely crafted and distinctive handmade trinkets from the stall, and despite her strenuous protests, he purchased every last one of those little baubles.
“I know you wouldn’t wear such trinkets at the temple,” the new Emperor murmured softly in her ear as he fastened a silver necklace with a ruby pendant around her neck. “But here, you can wear them. Do it...for me, won’t you?’
The High Priestess found herself pressing the ruby that hung upon her chest—how could she refuse him when he pleaded in such a tone? And he, no doubt, knew this full well.
They lingered in the busiest thoroughfares until evening, gauging the mood of the populace while indulging in the town’s delicacies. As they shared a bag of freshly baked biscuits, the High Priestess remarked, “during my seclusion within the temple, you have become an outstanding monarch, beloved and supported by the people.”
The new Emperor swallowed his biscuit quickly. “Not nearly enough. I shall thrive even harder.”
The High Priestess smiled. “The word ‘thrive’ is hardly appropriate here.”
As she spoke, her eyes crinkled into two crescent moons. Without reason, the new Emperor stared at her blankly, not even questioning why she had reached out to cup his cheeks. Her hands had crowned him, saved his life, and once lightly touched the centre of his brow to convey oracles only she could hear. Now, her hands rested upon his face. Without the thin barrier of silk gloves, this form of skin-to-skin contact seemed detached from their innate responsibilities.
Only when the High Priestess’ thumb brushed his lip did the new Emperor snap back to awareness.
“Crumbs,” he heard her say. “They’re on your mouth.”
·
“So, do you think there’s anything unusual about these waters?”
“Well, only after seeing it with my own eyes could I say with certainty that this falls within the normal patterns of tidal change.”
When the moon reappeared, they had reached a secluded beach, walking side by side along the line where waves met pebbles. The High Priestess observed intently as she explained to the new Emperor: “The ebb and flow of tides stems from the moon’s gravitational pull upon the sea. Yet fierce winds, torrential rains, river floods, and even the alignment of stars may influence this force.”
The new Emperor listened intently. When alone together, she often spoke of celestial shifts and the stirrings of the earth’s veins, and her words invariably drew him into a broader realm; it seemed, as if by some unseen force, he too grasped the order of all things through her wisdom, discerning the Creator’s true intent.
Time and again, he found himself profoundly drawn to her, as the tides are drawn to the moon.
“Let us sit here.”
The new Emperor said to the High Priestess as they climbed a low cliff.
They settled upon the ground, gazing at the full moon suspended over the sea, smooth as silk, its mirror image equally luminous upon the water. The glow rippled softly with the sound of the waves, gentle and tranquil.
In this dreamlike atmosphere, the High Priestess suddenly recalled something.
“You must have checked beforehand—today is the day when the moon is closest to the earth in the entire year, and it coincides with a full moon. A rare coincidence indeed,” she stated plainly. “So, you wish to ‘give’ me tonight’s moon?’
The new Emperor curved his lips in a smug reply. “I do recall the lunar cycle you taught me, you know. As for the full moon... I must say I was rather taken aback by this coincidence! Perhaps it is fate?”
“Hmph... So, you see, you are truly fortunate,” the High Priestess finally ceased addressing the new Emperor with excessive deference. A mischievous spark, typical of girls her age, now flickered in her eyes. “While it was largely down to luck, it’s not entirely unsatisfactory. On a scale of five, I’ll give you four and a half points!”
“Eh—? Why dock me half a point?!”
“Because I can’t take this moon away with me. Strictly speaking, you haven’t ‘given’ it to me.”
“That’s just being unreasonable! I can’t very well act like a child, handing you a basin of water and declaring, ‘Look, the moon I gave you is right here!’”
“Truth be told, I did consider the possibility you might do precisely that...”
“Why do you and that counsellor think I’m such a simpleton? Is that truly how you see me...?”
Amidst their playful banter, the High Priestess gradually recalled their childhood: she vaguely remembered, in days long, long past, beneath the lush laurel tree in the courtyard of the priesthood academy, before she became High Priestess and before he became the new Emperor, they had shared memories similar to this moment. The little boy stood a few inches shorter than her, in lessons he’d offer wildly imaginative answers when the grand priest questioned the class, then trail behind her like a shadow after class. He’d get into scuffles with other children over the silliest trifles—so much so that at first, she hadn’t realised this boy was the kingdom’s heir apparent, its future sovereign. Nor could she have foreseen he’d become the man who now held equal weight in her heart with the gods and truth itself.
Back then, she only knew that though she habitually found fault with him, she had unknowingly become profoundly drawn to him, unable to tear her gaze away from him. That moment mirrored this one: the moon had countless times stirred the ebb and flow of the tides, and on this day when they drew closest, its gravitational pull reached its zenith—just as she could no longer restrain the surging tide within her heart. Leaning forward, she drew ever nearer to the one she loved, finally pressing a kiss near his lips.