The Drums of War

 

by Shawn Carman

 

 

The northern Lion provinces

 

            The Lion army was small, barely worthy of the name and certainly not worthy of something so grandiose as a command tent. Ikoma Fujimaro shook his head ever so slightly as he stepped inside. His orders had been to oversee the training of young Matsu Yoshino in the matters of patrol and security, part of the young man’s increasingly diverse training in all things military. It was supposed to be a simple duty, one that would last perhaps two weeks at the outmost, and then the young heir would move on to his nest post. But, of course, things were never so simple.

“The low hills on the northern border are the most likely route,” Yoshino was saying to the gunso who commanded individual patrols. Most seemed bemused at the young man’s instruction, although there were a few who appeared somewhat confused and at least one who was clearly irritated at being spoken in such a manner by a boy less than a year past his gempukku.

“Yoshino-sama,” Fujimaro said. “I need to speak with you in private, if you do not object.”

“Of course.” The young man watched impassively as the other officers filed out. Once they were gone, he looked at Fujimaro frankly. “You are my superior officer,” he said flatly. “It is inappropriate for you to call me sama.”

“It is perfectly appropriate,” Fujimaro said. “You are the son of a Champion and a great general. You are, however, his very young son.”

“Your point?”

 “My point is that you are instructing men who have been, en some cases, patrolling this land longer than you have been alive. To speak to them thusly can make them think you a fool, or at least incompetent.”

“I see,” Yoshino said. “Forgive me. Still, if your information is correct, a sizeable Unicorn scouting regiment may be in this area in matter of hours. We must take every precaution.” He paused for a moment. “I must ask once again, you are certain of your source?”

“Absolutely,” Fujimaro said in an instant. “The Unicorn are on their way here, seeking a covert path to Toshi Ranbo for their Khan.”

“A foolish move.”

“The Khan is not foolish,” Fujimaro said, “but he is arrogant. I do not know his intentions, but I know that he cannot be trusted.”

“It matters not to soldiers that he cannot be trusted,” Yoshino said. “It only matters that he must be punished for sending his scouts across the Lion border.

 

           

            On the third day, Fujimaro’s Outriders reported that they had spied the Unicorn scouts. The force was larger than anticipated, and contained several elite cavalry units in addition to the normal scouting configuration the Ikoma had become so familiar with over the past years. Despite his force’s superior numbers, the notion of confronting the Unicorn made Fujimaro something uneasy. Still, the Unicorn could not be permitted to travel the northern Lion lands unchecked. Whatever their intentions, it was too a great risk to the villages that lay near their route. Would they put them to the torch to preserve the secrecy of their travels? Fujimaro suspected they would. The old scout’s mouth formed a thin, grim line as he prepared to speak to his men. He turned, only to find that Yoshino had stepped forward in his place.

“Brothers,” the young heir said, “our enemies are upon us. In a matter of moments the soldiers of the Khan, the man whose orders stole a thousand of our brothers from us including my father, will cross into our lands.” He surveyed them carefully, making sure they all understood. Fujimaro saw no uncertainty in their eyes this time. “You and your soldiers are all that stand between the Khan’s forces and the innocent men and women whom we have sworn on our father’s souls that we will protect. There are a dozen tactical maneuvers that may win us the day. There are a hundred strategies that we can attempt.” He shook his head. “I am yet untested in battle, but I know this. There is no tactic our enemies possess that cannot be defeated by our fury. There comes a time for war!” The young man drew his blade and held it above his head. “This is my father’s blade! And today, I will drench it in the blood of the men who took him from me! Who stands with me?”

The gunso shouted their approval, drawing their blades in unison. Fujimaro drew his as well, a feral smile creeping onto his features.

“Victory!” Yoshino screamed. “Victory for the sons and brothers of Ikoma Otemi and Matsu Nimuro! Death for the fools who follow the Khan!”