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The Red Emperor standardized the Nikara language, issued a uniform set of weights and measurements, and built a system of roads that connected his sprawling territory.
so, a Shi Huangdi equivalent
“Well, it was a kid’s story after all,” said Kitay. “And genocide is a little depressing.”
facts, and also: foreshadowing
The thing about watching someone get high was that if you weren’t getting high yourself, things got very boring very soon.
Children ceased to be children when you put a sword in their hands. When you taught them to fight a war, then you armed them and put them on the front lines, they were not children anymore. They were soldiers.
“No, you listen to me. You’re not at school anymore. You aren’t competing with anyone; you’re not trying to get good marks. You live with us, you fight with us, you die with us. From now on, your utmost loyalty is to the Cike and the Empire. You want an illustrious career, you should have joined the divisions. But you didn’t, which means something’s wrong with you, which means you’re stuck with us. Understand?”
They were a necessary subtraction.
this is how you know our protagonist isn't necessary a Good Guy
“My god didn’t make me do anything,” she said. “The gods can’t make our choices for us. They can only offer their power, and we can wield it. And I did, and this is what I chose.” She swallowed. “I don’t regret it.” But Kitay’s face had drained of color. “You just killed thousands of innocent people.”
Kitay opened his mouth. No sound came out. He closed it. When he finally spoke again, it sounded as if he was close to tears. “Have you ever considered,” he said slowly, “that that was exactly what they thought of us?”
How could she compare the lives lost? One genocide against another—how did they balance on the scale of justice? And who was she, to imagine that she could make that comparison? She seized Qara’s wrist. “What have I done?” “The same thing that we did,” said Qara. “We won a war.” “No, I killed . . .” Rin choked. She couldn’t finish saying it.
vulgarity of numbers
And she would call the gods to do such terrible things.
Farah Naz,
sorry for the inconvenience crossover
Immigrants, we get the job done.
Hamilton reference definitely dates when this was published
