The Dama stirred with confusion, but before he had made out what she had said, Feng Zhiwei had already disappeared.

A Steppe Coronation Ceremony was not as intricate as one would be in the Central Plains. Soldiers from the twelve tribes stood in formation as the twelve Patriarchs offered their gifts; the Dama dipped his finger into the koumiss and pointed at the Kings forehead while he prayed for abundance and prosperity. After that, the Dama would use his ceremonial instruments and speak the prophecies of the heavens, and then there would be singing and eating and drinking and dancing alongside a horsemanship and archery competition. The celebration would go on for three days and three nights, and then it was done.

With the Blue Bear and Iron Cheetah Tribes at Helian Zhengs back and the extermination of the Pixiu still whispered about, none of the Kings ambitious brothers dared make a move; and every power known or unknown was watched by a tight, impenetrable guard.

The twelve tribe armies were now eleven, and every tribes soldiers stood in a square, forming up under the high hill. So many colors of gold, indigo, white, red, blue, black, light and dark grey, yellow, moon-white, and green leather armor; every face was composed and set, and the military might shone like hard iron. All wore the same curved sabre, and every sabre gleamed in the sun, a sea of shining metal stretching out before the eyes, too dazzling to look upon.

Golden-robed Helian Zheng sat on a black horse, his silver fox-fur coat fluttering behind his shoulders. He called out in laughter before galloping down the hillside, every person he passed falling to their knees and saluting him.

Horse hoofs pounded, spraying grass and dirt. Each square Helian Zheng passed would clang as they unsheathed their weapons and thrust them upwards into the sky, so many uniform thuds as glittering weapons shot up like a forest of metal. Helian Zheng rode and a wave of weapons followed him, a sea of power and metal of which he rode at the head.

The steppe men watched with subdued respect and all the steppe womens eyes gleamed.

After the military inspection, the new King mounted his throne. Special golden teapots were positioned on the tabled red-felt carpet, and the patriarchs by age to present their gifts to their new ruler.

The gifts were all in the vein of special local products representing the most valuable aspects of each tribe.

Helian Zheng wore a dignified smile as he praised and thanked each patriarch, and a growing smile crept over the Dama Living Buddha by his side.

Finally, Kereyid of Fire Fox approached with his gift.

The young man wore a flaming scarlet leather robe edged with black fox-fur. His pretty face was completely different from the steppe visage with long, thin brows and smiling eyes. In his hand he held a tray carrying a flying eagle sculpture of black-gold.

The other patriarchs could only watch on with envy the Fire Fox tribe possessed a small dark-gold mine and were only second in wealth to Golden Lion.

I present my tribes precious treasure to the peerless, honorable King! Kereyid called out with modest elegance, his hands lifting the sculpture high above his head.

Helian Zhengs lips curled as he looked down at the man, and he calmly replied: Brother Kereyid need not stand on such ceremony. You are Hu Zhuos youngest patriarch, and in the future this brother will rely on your support.

It is my honor to aid the King. Kereyid smiled in reply and retreated.

Finally, an attendant brought up a golden basin filled with koumiss and the Dama Living Buddha climbed shakily to his feet.

Helian Zheng turned to the maidservant beside him and smiled, saying quietly: Go help the Dama Ala...

But before his words could fully exit his mouth, the Kings face twitched and everyone watched in horror as a quiet blue/green color came down over his brows. As people cried in and exclaimed, Helian Zheng trembled and fell over!

The immense crowd burst into a clamoring uproar and all the patriarchs scrambled forward to aid their King. Dama Living Buddha shuddered and almost knocked over the golden basin.

King! King! The patriarchs surrounding Helian Zheng called repeatedly as people ran off to fetch the physicians and witch doctors. All sorts of medicinal folk squeezed beside Helian Zheng and took his pulse, summoned gods and spirits, calculated his ailment or danced sorcerers dances. In all the chaos, no one could say what exactly was wrong with Helian Zheng, and the Imperial Courts physician could only stammer to the demanding patriarchs: The King seems... to be unwell...

What happened? The crowd kept calling, and Blue Bird and White deer exchanged quick glances before ordering the Kings Army to encircle the platform, blocking all the finagling nobles and curious bystanders.

Let me look, let me see... Dama Living Buddha panted and gasped as servants helped him forward. The patriarchs immediately gave way and the old Lama bent down to examine Helian Zhengs miserable, blue face, his old fingers shaking as he took the young Kings pulse. After a long moment, the old man closed his eyes and sighed.

My boy... my boy... The old Lama cried out in lament, tears dripping from his eyes like rain. This was not supposed to be your end, how did this happen? Has the cloud of misfortune already covered your head?

The patriarchs exchanged glances, all of them thinking back to how Helian Zheng had defied the will of the heavens and insisted on the whipping punishment. A hesitant voice asked: Is this the punishment of the heavens...

What punishment! A voice called out in loud indignation as a man squeezed forward. Look at the Kings face! Hes clearly been poisoned! Check everyone who approached the King today!

So spoke Kereyid.

My son... Mudan Hua rushed forward with the Eight Valiants in tow, kicking and punching her way through until she could drape herself in a crying heap over Helian Zheng. What happened, you were fine this morning...

My Queen. Gadd called out, his bruises from his beating at the hands of Chunyu Meng still fading. He flipped up Helian Zhengs eyelid and peered into his eyes, his voice filled with worry even as he said: Dont give up. Central Plains poisoners always carry antidotes; let us first find the poisoner and save the King.

Who did the King meet this morning? The Irgi nobility called out from behind the guards. Another voice immediately joined the first: He came directly from Kings Court, it could only be someone who lived with him!

A moment of silence cut the air before the crowd exploded like water in a hot oil pan.

Who lives with the King? Only the queen can serve in his bed for the days surrounding the coronation!

Who walked with the King from the back palace?

The Queen!

The maidservants!

Maids would not get so close to the King!

Summon all the servants who attend the King! Gadd called out, taking charge. Use torture if necessary!

Panicked maidservants were dragged forward, each a trembling heap on the ground.

Tengri as my witness, the Queen arranged the Kings clothes herself this morning.