#A sheep dressed as a wolf for its own - and perhaps others’ - safety

[juniperjulie]

pangolin. fox. ‘wolf’.

(Lukey)

[zach-the-fox]

Furiends Episode 4: Insensitive Interrogation

“Ah!” Zach yelps as Brook presses some white cream against his burn. “Easy, Brook…”

“Sorry, but I told you it would sting,” the purple rabbit replies. “Now, just hold still.”

Zach tenses up, feeling her paw across his torso. “Ah! Oh, that hurts…”

“Oh sorry!” She ceases. “Um, let me come back to that.” She works her way lower.

Zach keeps still, feeling the rabbit’s paw rubbing him. Brook kneels to apply the medicine to more of the burn areas. Zach trembles a little as he feels her by his lower area. “Woo!” He looks down at her. “Uh, I don’t have any burns there…”

Brook giggles. “Whoops. Well, you’re never too sure.” She stands after she finishes. “Just let the cream do its thing, okay?” Zach rolls his eyes.

Hatboy, on the other hand, isn’t too happy as he’s sweeping the glass in the dustpan by the broken window. “This sucks… Why am I the one cleaning up this mess?!”

“Because,” Brook begins. “You were the one who batted the fireball out the window. Keep sweeping.” Brook sighs, then goes to sit in a chair at the counter. “Man… I’m still a disappointed. We could’ve had our very own demon.”

“I don’t mean to ask,” Zach utters. “But what would you do with a demon?”

Brook shrugs. “Don’t know. Mostly be its friend. Maybe even unleash it on my enemies. That would be nice. Wouldn’t you want a protector against your foes?” Zach points his eyes at the ceiling, reflecting on the times where everyone he encountered thought of him as an enemy. His thoughts are scrambled at the question, thinking if they really deserve being attacked for bullying the fox. “Well?” asks Brook, causing him to snap out of it.

“I… I…”

Knocking against the door catches her attention. “Hold on. Someone’s at the door. Better see who it is.” The rabbit ambles over and looks through her peephole. Standing in front waiting is the wolf with the red armband. Alongside him, is a sheep in a green vest, a monkey whose face is covered with a yellow mask, and a cat dressed in a red top and blue jeans as a flower sits against her ear. “Can I help you people?” she asks through the door.

“This is Team Rescuers,” shouts the wolf. Zach’s head turns to the door quickly. His ears stand as straight and tall as they could be. “Please open up!”

“Um, just a second…” The rabbit faces her friends. “It’s Team Rescuers…”

“Yeah, we heard,” Hatboy says. “What could they possibly want? I mean, why do are they here?”

“Probably for me,” Zach utters. His breathing increases. “They want to pick on me, I know it…”

“Calm down,” Brook orders him. “You’re acting like an escaped convict.”

“Open the door, now!” demands the sheep, screaming in a female voice. “Otherwise, we will kick it in!”

“Relax, Cindy,” spurts the cat, female in tone as well. “Be patient.”

“Better answer it, Brook,” says Hatboy.

Brook turns to the door and opens it, appearing in the crack. “Hello there. What brings you fine animals around here today?”

“Good day, Ma’am,” the monkey begins, speaking in a baritone voice. “We’re here to investigate some strange event.”

“Strange, you say?” the rabbit asks, forming her creepy smile. “I like strange. Tell me, how strange is this event you are looking into?”

“Well,” the monkey continues. “We’ve gotten reports that a large fireball had traveled across town and burned everything in its path. We’ve talked to eyewitnesses around and we’ve traced their reports to this location, where everyone’s saying this is where it came from. Have you seen anything unusual such as this?”

“Is that so? Well, I’ve not seen anything of that sort, but I did-”

“Hey wait!” The wolf notices Zach inside. “It’s the flawed fox! Why is he in your home?!”

Brook narrows one eye. “Um, what? Why does that concern you?”

“I bet he’s the one behind the whole “fireball” fiasco. Let us in immediately,” he orders. “We need to search this place.”

“Whoa, hold on… What makes you so sure about-”

“Move!” The wolf pushes her aside and enters. Upon walking in, he stops before the fox and red rabbit. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t the flawed fox of Heroto?”

“This is what you meant, Jay?” asks the monkey. “Guess he settled for worst.”

“I know, right, Kenji?” The wolf then turns to Cindy. “Hey Cindy, care to say “hi” to your old boyfriend?”

The sheep steps beside him. “If only he was. He’s more of Miffy’s type.”

“Sorry,” adds the cat. “I only date men who are strong-willed, not little boys.” Zach’s ears droop down as a frown forms.

Hatboy stands beside the fox. “Have you no decency for your citizens, especially those who are unfortunate?”

“What are you going to do, Rabbit?” Kenji asks. “You going to smack us with those large ears of yours?”

“Hey, now that’s uncalled for. What business do you have with us anyway?”

“Listen Chili Pepper,” Jay begins. “We’ve gotten reports a fireball came from this location, and I’d say it’s pretty clear it was from you guys.”

“Hold on…” Brook stands between the team and her two friends, crossing her arms. “What makes you think we were the ones who unleashed the fireball?”

“It seems obvious, Toots.” The wolf crosses his arms. “The whole place has been scorched. We can see the damage here.”

“We weren’t the ones who released a fireball on the town,” Zach claims. “That’s all a lie!”

“Explain the burn marks, then.”

“Simple explanation,” utters Brook. “We were making lunch when it accidentally spilled on the floor and caught fire.”

“Must’ve been a huge fire. Care to tell us why the flawed fox has a huge burn on his torso?” questions Miffy.

Zach tries to muster a good explanation “I… I was-”

“Helping us,” Brook interrupts, after quickly covering the fox’s mouth with her paw. “He was trying to help cook when fire got big. Zach tried to smother the flames, but they whipped him while he was putting it out.”

“So, where’s the fire department, then?” Cindy asks. “Wouldn’t they be here if a fire was raging out of control?”

“We managed to put it out before it spread,” Hatboy explains. “Got it all under control. So, we didn’t need the fire department.”

Kenji rubs his chin. “Likely story… Still doesn’t explain why there’d be a huge fireball spotted across town.”

“Um, we aren’t sure either,” Brook implies. “In fact, we’re just as confused as you.”

“Yeah,” Zach adds in. “Perhaps your rivals, Capital Corp, were the ones who started the whole “fireball” fiasco to lure you away.”

Jay crosses his arms. “I highly doubt Capital Corp would do something like that. Though, you aren’t wrong… They could be up to something! We should get going! Let’s go, Team!” As he exits, the three others follow him.

The sheep stops and turns to the rabbits. “Oh, you two better be watchful of the flawed fox. He’s known to cause trouble wherever he goes.” She then disappears.

Brook closes the door. “Toots?! The nerve of them!”

“Chili pepper?” spurts Hatboy. “What a bunch of jerks… Barging in here and putting the blame on Zach for something that clearly wasn’t his fault.”

“They blamed us, too! Come on, just because Zach’s made some mistakes doesn’t make him a bad person… And just because we’re friends with him doesn’t mean we’re enemies too.”

“And didn’t you hear what she said about “watching ourselves with the flawed fox”? I mean, really? How the hell did they ever become heroes?”

“What a couple of clucks.” Brook turns to the fox, noticing his ears remain drooped as he turns his head. “You okay, Zach?”

“Yeah…” the fox responds. “Fine…”

The purple rabbit places her paw on the fox’s shoulder. “Don’t even pay attention to them. They’re just looking to blame someone for their problems. You’re no flawed fox. Actually, I’m starting to think something’s going on.”

Hatboy narrows one eye. “What do you mean?”

“Didn’t you see the way they came in and just left? They weren’t even concerned about our safety. Real heroes don’t just walk in, look around and assume it was someone they didn’t like, and then leave. They must be up to something…”

“Probably planning on setting me up so all of Heroto can banish me,” Zach suggests. “I’m not surprised…”

“You won’t get banned,” Brook tells him. “We’re going to make sure nothing bad happens to you. You, me, Hatboy, Carly, and Emmy. In fact, we should call them up and let them know about the situation. We’ll need to keep a lookout for those Rescue-jerks. We should also clean this place up before other people come by and get suspicious.”

@carlycmarathecat​ @emmy-the-absolute-goof​ @bendy-bear-15​

[ruleandruinrpg]

OYUN KIR-NARAN

TWENTY-FIVE ❈ HUMAN DIPLOMAT

In war-torn lands, there existed what felt like a collective fantasy among those who’d known what silvery and genteel elegance was like before it was stolen from them, a sense of hope that lived not in the abstract, but in an image of nostalgia. It lived in Oyun, a girl who only knew how to be coveted, a woman who knew only how to work in machinations. She was heralded as a living miracle as soon as she came to be, delivered swiftly and safely despite the odds working against her and her mother, although she knew few would think of how she must have fought for her survival, with teeth and claws and nerve; it made a far less pretty picture than the image of her dropped into the world after a quick hiccup. Life was gilded after. Her parents were not nobles, but they were respected and illustrious citizens, a family of strategists and advisers and scholars, and with it came along a privilege Oyun neither took for granted nor inflated. Dresses of silk that might have befit royalty, lessons in manners, philosophy, and dance, the advantage of having Shu Han’s celebrated intellectuals drop in and out of their villa for simple tea and highbrow conversation. They never minded Oyun as she played a melody on an instrument in the background, perhaps because they assumed she wasn’t listening or was absorbed in her own preoccupations, perhaps they couldn’t imagine the reason she excused herself was so she could quickly run to her study and jot down all her favorite words and idioms and ideas they discussed before they slipped from her mind. Sometimes the most erudite didn’t need to have all the nation’s resources at their fingertips—sometimes gleaning and taking what she liked and discarding the rest was enough.

Color oneself in a flower’s hues, let the swaying of one’s petals bely the venom in its roots. Oyun joined countless other well-bred girls whose blood wasn’t quite gilded enough to be royalty but whose parents were of good enough standing for their daughters to serve those who were. It was a coveted opportunity for those who imagined the nobility to have reason to look down upon the common folk—how grand to be in the company of royalty. And perhaps Oyun would have been starstruck at the thought as well, but what was the point of fawning if it was solely blood that determined stature? These crowned idols had nothing but fortune as their allies, and fortune ran out - Oyun had their favor, her wits and her ability to change; a less than noble birth allowed her that freedom, and freedom marked her apart. She was assigned to be the aide of the cousin or niece of the queen—she could barely remember now, but her name was Saran: a nice, but rather melodramatic girl who spun her dark locks round her fingers and dreamed rather than did. There was nothing to be said for the hapless, excepting that they could serve their use at the hands of another. She listened to Saran, penned her love letters and cooed over the girl’s decisions and indecision as if they were groundbreaking rather than grating, and waited until Saran simply opened the doors Oyun had been itching to unlock. Secrets and gossip and blueprints of those who ruled the kingdom - she created labyrinths of her own with those outlines and sketches, curried her own favor with nobles with what she’d learned and what they offered her for her own. There was prestige in beauty, but even greater in knowing how to use it. It wasn’t that she wanted power, or to become queen; she wanted exactly everything she deserved.

Then, Oyun found her ally in fortune, although lesser folk might have called it trouble. She and a guard were accompanying Saran to the northernmost parts of Shu Han—for what, she couldn’t remember either—but they were intercepted by Ravkan brutes who sought a Shu noble to take as a hostage, presumably Saran’s safety in exchange for pulling out Shu forces out of a Ravkan region, or something equally trite. The soldiers had them on their knees, in the dirt, as they sent a messenger to the Shu Han capital, fed them sparsely in the interim and taunted them often in hopes of breaking them. Initially it seemed best to keep quiet in the face of barbarians, to go the route of Saran and play dumb and not incite further stupidity, but as time went on and their fate remained uncertain with still no word from the capital, it was clear varied tactics were needed. “Write a new message,” she’d demanded, voice clear despite having not had water in twelve hours. “I’ll teach you how to be persuasive.” In the letter she’d listed every noble who had any sort of clout and their vices, from who they preferred to sleep with despite who their spouse was to what they liked to spend tax revenue on despite their own public declarations and promises. You’re not hitting them where it hurts - the queen’s cousin? They will mourn for a month and continue with their depravity. Not a day later they were back in the capital, and Oyun was praised for her ingenuity, for not only negotiating her own safety but the safety of her mistress. No sins were leaked, and she received a new appointment to make sure they would remain that way: diplomat to Ravka. That is, the carrier to the spark that would raze Ravka to the ground.

Women who carried an old-world, genteel elegance about them learn to hide their fangs and frays behind velvet words and a beauty to rival the willows and silks of the world, to smile as often as she seethes. She looks like a waking daydream, walks like rolling fog, speaks like wind chimes, and schemes like the Devil’s favorite. Her ambition is a selfish kind, unrelenting and unapologetic, but cleverly hidden until it isn’t. The world is teeming with dreamers, cowards who never dare to do, and she coos at them, strokes their hair and sings them to sleep, and takes what is hers while the lesser slumber. She is a wolf in swan’s feathers, gliding alongside the sheep until all that is left between her and calamity is a thin, laced veil.

CONNECTIONS

MAKSIM KAEV:  There’s nothing more delightful than knowing something so crucial about a celebrated man who's entrenched in ignorance. The good lieutenant who took to leadership like a falcon took to the sky, a man unquestionably Ravkan - what would people think if they knew he was Shu? That he was abandoned because he was disgraceful and his family only foresaw further embarrassment, that he was sent to Ravka to destroy them by misguiding them in his incompetence? Oyun still hasn’t decided when she’ll tell him or how, but she’s perfectly satisfied dangling a morsel in front of him and watching a man of such good standing snap at it like a feral animal - it’s her favorite kind of power.

TATIANA LANTSOV: She reminds Oyun too much of the mistress she used to serve, but her own brand of wrath is something the diplomat can commend - and use, as undignified as it was. She takes the lady-in-waiting to be narcissistic and predictable - whether or not she’s easy to maneuver, to coax into opening the doors that were previously locked to Oyun is entirely up to Oyun’s mood and whims. It would be all to easy to reach the Lantsovs through Tatiana and unearth that which has been buried - and history does love to repeat itself.

SERGEI VALKE: Like drew to like, and Oyun could spot a mask as easily as she could slip one on. There’s something about the man that seems off, and she has never doubted herself before, even as others accept him unequivocally. Listen closely, she tells herself. Sometimes his idioms and expressions were strange, sometimes he made the very same grammar mistakes she made when she was first learning the language, and she is not content to write off these idiosyncrasies. She will be there when the mask cracks, even if she must be the one to step on it with her heel.

OYUN IS PORTRAYED BY KWAK JI YOUNG & IS OPEN.

[carterconlon]

The Wolf is at The Door by Carter Conlon

Download PDF of "The Wolf is at The Door"

"Who has believed our report? And to whom has the arm of the Lord been revealed? For He shall grow up before Him as a tender plant, and as a root out of dry ground. He has no form or comeliness; and when we see Him, there is no beauty that we should desire Him. He is despised and rejected by men, a Man of sorrows and acquainted with grief. And we hid, as it were, our faces from Him; He was despised, and we did not esteem Him. Surely He has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows; yet we esteemed Him stricken, smitten by God, and afflicted. But He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities; the chastisement for our peace was upon Him, and by His stripes we are healed. All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned, every one, to his own way; and the Lord has laid on Him the iniquity of us all" (Isaiah 53:1–6).

It is important to understand that a religious system crucified Christ. Although the Roman authorities were the instruments of His death, the religious order of the day—created by God's own people— put the Son of God on the cross. There were leaders in that generation who adorned themselves in righteous robes and loved to be called "Teacher"in the marketplace (see Matthew 23:7). They ended up creating a system of salvation that was much wider and more inclusive than the one God had given. All kinds of people were coming into the temple defiled and going out the same way. They were living in ways that the Bible clearly indicated would leave them excluded from the kingdom of God forever.

In contrast, Jesus came in a form that lacked grandeur in the eyes of men. He was not dressed in righteous robes, not trying to garner their titles, not doing things their way. The Bible says, "There is no beauty that we should desire Him" (Isaiah 53:2). They despised and rejected Him because He challenged their religious system of redemption. Remember, it is the propensity of humankind to conclude that we can be as God, becoming judges of what is good and what is evil—the original sin in the Garden of Eden. If you take that to its logical extension, we can start declaring that God forgives things when He does not. We can start telling people that they are going to heaven when they are not. That is the grave danger of religion. Can you imagine sitting inside a place as a supposed believer in Christ only to end up at the throne of God one day and find out you have been outside all along? What a tragedy it is going to be for so many.

He was "a Man of sorrows and acquainted with grief" (Isaiah 53:3). There was a heaviness in the heart of the Son of God as He looked on the people as sheep without a shepherd. "And we hid, as it were, our faces from Him; He was despised, and we did not esteem Him" (53:3). We are, in great measure, reliving the Scripture again in our day. In many places, even where God's people are gathering, the Word of God is despised. We are now gravitating toward fancy preachers who have opened the door wide to people who are not going to heaven, giving them false peace when they are not at peace with God.

THE FULL COUNSEL OF GOD

Paul was a true shepherd who did not hold back from declaring the truth. This is what he said in the book of Acts: "Therefore I testify to you this day that I am innocent of the blood of all men. For I have not shunned to declare to you the whole counsel of God" (Acts 20:26–27). It is the cry of my heart that if anyone reading this today ends up in hell, let it never be because I failed to declare to you the whole counsel of God or did not warn you of something that had the power to drag you down into eternal darkness.

Paul continued: "For I know this, that after my departure savage wolves will come in among you, not sparing the flock. Also from among yourselves men will rise up, speaking perverse things, to draw away the disciples after themselves. Therefore watch, and remember that for three years I did not cease to warn everyone night and day with tears" (Acts 20:29–31). He warned that wolves are going to come—which we are seeing in packs in our generation. These wolves are going to devour the sacrifice of Christ and the promise of new life through Him. They are going to promise the people liberty, though they themselves are slaves to corruption (see 2 Peter 2:19). Wolves teach that you can live a lifestyle against the Word of God and still claim heaven as your eternal home. Such a wolf is now at the door of the Christian Church in America.

Yet the apostle Paul clearly warned in the book of First Corinthians: "Do you not know that the unrighteous will not inherit the kingdom of God? Do not be deceived. Neither fornicators..."(1 Corinthians 6:9). These are people who engage in sexual intercourse outside the bonds of marriage between one man and one woman—and will not inherit the kingdom of God. Do not be deceived into thinking you can live an immoral lifestyle and still have heaven as your eternal home. This is hard for this generation to hear, especially when so many preachers are saying, "Well, God understands need and God is a God of love. He won't send anybody to hell."That is not true! Yes, He is a God of love, we know that, but the Bible tells us that fornicators have no inheritance in the kingdom of God.

"Nor idolaters..." These are people who have other loves—something in their life that is their whole obsession. Christ (or church) is just a little part of their life; they are pursuing something else.

"Nor adulterers..." Today we take a word such as adultery and call it an "extramarital affair" as if it is a black tie event. "You are invited to an extramarital affair next Friday at 5 o'clock." Yet the Bible calls it adultery. Settle it: Sex outside the bonds of the person you are married to will keep you outside the kingdom of God.

"Nor homosexuals, nor sodomites..."In other words, this applies to both men and women. I understand the dilemma that some might face in same-sex attraction. Nevertheless, you cannot give in to that lifestyle on any level because the Bible clearly says it will leave you outside the kingdom of God.

"Nor thieves..." This refers to all people who steal—even just a little. Perhaps they have a contract and steal a little bit more than they should, or maybe they cheat on their taxes.

"Nor covetous..." These are people who are always wanting more of the things of this world, never satisfied with what they have.

"Nor drunkards..." Week after week, there are people who go to church on Sunday after being out at the club the night before, drinking and dancing.

"Nor revilers..." Especially in our country today, reviling has become the speech of the day. It is fashionable just to curse everybody around you.

"Nor extortioners" In other words, those who take advantage of others will not inherit the kingdom of God (1 Corinthians 6:9–10).

However, Paul finished with good news: "And such were some of you. But you were washed, but you were sanctified, but you were justified in the name of the Lord Jesus and by the Spirit of our God" (1 Corinthians 6:11). He was saying, "In contrast, you are set apart for the kingdom of God. You have honestly repented and walked away from what God's Word says is wrong. You have walked away from this old way of thinking and behaving and have instead set yourself apart for the kingdom of God."

THE HIRELING WILL FLEE

Nevertheless, we must be aware that we are living in an hour when the wolf is heading to the door of the Church, demanding that we bow down to these new definitions of good and evil. The days of being able to declare truths like the ones above without penalty are very close to being over, if they are not over already.

Jesus once said, "I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd gives His life for the sheep. But a hireling, he who is not the shepherd, one who does not own the sheep, sees the wolf coming and leaves the sheep and flees; and the wolf catches the sheep and scatters them. The hireling flees because he is a hireling and does not care about the sheep"(John 10:11–13).

There are hirelings in a lot of pulpits in America today. They do not necessarily leave the people, but they leave biblical truth when the wolf is at the door. The wolf says, "This is what you will preach; these are the truths that you will espouse." And the hirelings bow down when the music plays in order to save themselves, for it has always been about them and never really about the sheep. And so the hirelings end up leading the people into the broad way of destruction rather than into the narrow way of eternal life.

In contrast, the true shepherds of God in this generation are going to care more for the people than for their own safety or reputation. Of course, it will not be an easy road. We are about to join our brothers and sisters in China, Iran and other places who are being persecuted and even put to death for what they believe. We have lived a very comfortable, lazy Christianity in America, but those days are over. The wolf is now at the door.

And so I challenge you with all my heart to turn from sin. Find that new life in Christ, and rise up to be the person that God has called you to be. You already know what God has His finger on. Ask Him for help in turning away from watching pornography, from drinking, from flirtation in the office, from railing. Ask Him to deliver you from cowardice and instead put a love for people in your heart—a love that casts out all fear.

Let this society despise Christ, consider Him ordinary, rebel against His words. But by the grace of God, we will not bow before the wolf in this generation. By His grace, we will stand unashamedly for the truth of God. We will begin to pray again as a Church Age. We will have the courage in this generation to stand for those who do not have a voice for themselves—for our children, for the unborn, for our high school students, for college students; for every mother, father, and child in this country who needs to know there is a Savior who died for them!

This newsletter is an edited version of "THE WOLF IS AT THE DOOR," a sermon given on February 9, 2020 in the sanctuary of Times Square Church in New York City. Other sermons are available by visiting our website at tsc.nyc. You are welcome to make additional copies of this sermon for free distribution to friends. However, for all other forms of reproduction or electronic transmission existing copyright laws apply. This sermon cannot be posted on any website or webpage without permission from Times Square Church. Scripture taken from the New King James Version®. Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson. Used by permission. All rights reserved. Scripture taken from other versions are noted.

[ruleandruinrpg]

OYUN KIR-NARAN

TWENTY-FIVE ❈ HUMAN DIPLOMAT

In war-torn lands, there existed what felt like a collective fantasy among those who’d known what silvery and genteel elegance was like before it was stolen from them, a sense of hope that lived not in the abstract, but in an image of nostalgia. It lived in Oyun, a girl who only knew how to be coveted, a woman who knew only how to work in machinations. She was heralded as a living miracle as soon as she came to be, delivered swiftly and safely despite the odds working against her and her mother, although she knew few would think of how she must have fought for her survival, with teeth and claws and nerve; it made a far less pretty picture than the image of her dropped into the world after a quick hiccup. Life was gilded after. Her parents were not nobles, but they were respected and illustrious citizens, a family of strategists and advisers and scholars, and with it came along a privilege Oyun neither took for granted nor inflated. Dresses of silk that might have befit royalty, lessons in manners, philosophy, and dance, the advantage of having Shu Han’s celebrated intellectuals drop in and out of their villa for simple tea and highbrow conversation. They never minded Oyun as she played a melody on an instrument in the background, perhaps because they assumed she wasn’t listening or was absorbed in her own preoccupations, perhaps they couldn’t imagine the reason she excused herself was so she could quickly run to her study and jot down all her favorite words and idioms and ideas they discussed before they slipped from her mind. Sometimes the most erudite didn’t need to have all the nation’s resources at their fingertips—sometimes gleaning and taking what she liked and discarding the rest was enough.

Color oneself in a flower’s hues, let the swaying of one’s petals bely the venom in its roots. Oyun joined countless other well-bred girls whose blood wasn’t quite gilded enough to be royalty but whose parents were of good enough standing for their daughters to serve those who were. It was a coveted opportunity for those who imagined the nobility to have reason to look down upon the common folk—how grand to be in the company of royalty. And perhaps Oyun would have been starstruck at the thought as well, but what was the point of fawning if it was solely blood that determined stature? These crowned idols had nothing but fortune as their allies, and fortune ran out - Oyun had their favor, her wits and her ability to change; a less than noble birth allowed her that freedom, and freedom marked her apart. She was assigned to be the aide of the cousin or niece of the queen—she could barely remember now, but her name was Saran: a nice, but rather melodramatic girl who spun her dark locks round her fingers and dreamed rather than did. There was nothing to be said for the hapless, excepting that they could serve their use at the hands of another. She listened to Saran, penned her love letters and cooed over the girl’s decisions and indecision as if they were groundbreaking rather than grating, and waited until Saran simply opened the doors Oyun had been itching to unlock. Secrets and gossip and blueprints of those who ruled the kingdom - she created labyrinths of her own with those outlines and sketches, curried her own favor with nobles with what she’d learned and what they offered her for her own. There was prestige in beauty, but even greater in knowing how to use it. It wasn’t that she wanted power, or to become queen; she wanted exactly everything she deserved.

Then, Oyun found her ally in fortune, although lesser folk might have called it trouble. She and a guard were accompanying Saran to the northernmost parts of Shu Han—for what, she couldn’t remember either—but they were intercepted by Ravkan brutes who sought a Shu noble to take as a hostage, presumably Saran’s safety in exchange for pulling out Shu forces out of a Ravkan region, or something equally trite. The soldiers had them on their knees, in the dirt, as they sent a messenger to the Shu Han capital, fed them sparsely in the interim and taunted them often in hopes of breaking them. Initially it seemed best to keep quiet in the face of barbarians, to go the route of Saran and play dumb and not incite further stupidity, but as time went on and their fate remained uncertain with still no word from the capital, it was clear varied tactics were needed. “Write a new message,” she’d demanded, voice clear despite having not had water in twelve hours. “I’ll teach you how to be persuasive.” In the letter she’d listed every noble who had any sort of clout and their vices, from who they preferred to sleep with despite who their spouse was to what they liked to spend tax revenue on despite their own public declarations and promises. You’re not hitting them where it hurts - the queen’s cousin? They will mourn for a month and continue with their depravity. Not a day later they were back in the capital, and Oyun was praised for her ingenuity, for not only negotiating her own safety but the safety of her mistress. No sins were leaked, and she received a new appointment to make sure they would remain that way: diplomat to Ravka. That is, the carrier to the spark that would raze Ravka to the ground.

Women who carried an old-world, genteel elegance about them learn to hide their fangs and frays behind velvet words and a beauty to rival the willows and silks of the world, to smile as often as she seethes. She looks like a waking daydream, walks like rolling fog, speaks like wind chimes, and schemes like the Devil’s favorite. Her ambition is a selfish kind, unrelenting and unapologetic, but cleverly hidden until it isn’t. The world is teeming with dreamers, cowards who never dare to do, and she coos at them, strokes their hair and sings them to sleep, and takes what is hers while the lesser slumber. She is a wolf in swan’s feathers, gliding alongside the sheep until all that is left between her and calamity is a thin, laced veil.

CONNECTIONS

MAKSIM KAEV:  There’s nothing more delightful than knowing something so crucial about a celebrated man who's entrenched in ignorance. The good lieutenant who took to leadership like a falcon took to the sky, a man unquestionably Ravkan - what would people think if they knew he was Shu? That he was abandoned because he was disgraceful and his family only foresaw further embarrassment, that he was sent to Ravka to destroy them by misguiding them in his incompetence? Oyun still hasn’t decided when she’ll tell him or how, but she’s perfectly satisfied dangling a morsel in front of him and watching a man of such good standing snap at it like a feral animal - it’s her favorite kind of power.

TATIANA LANTSOV: She reminds Oyun too much of the mistress she used to serve, but her own brand of wrath is something the diplomat can commend - and use, as undignified as it was. She takes the lady-in-waiting to be narcissistic and predictable - whether or not she’s easy to maneuver, to coax into opening the doors that were previously locked to Oyun is entirely up to Oyun’s mood and whims. It would be all to easy to reach the Lantsovs through Tatiana and unearth that which has been buried - and history does love to repeat itself.

SERGEI VALKE: Like drew to like, and Oyun could spot a mask as easily as she could slip one on. There’s something about the man that seems off, and she has never doubted herself before, even as others accept him unequivocally. Listen closely, she tells herself. Sometimes his idioms and expressions were strange, sometimes he made the very same grammar mistakes she made when she was first learning the language, and she is not content to write off these idiosyncrasies. She will be there when the mask cracks, even if she must be the one to step on it with her heel.

OYUN IS PORTRAYED BY KWAK JI YOUNG & IS OPEN.