Scenes from the Empire 10

 

by Brian Yoon & Shawn Carman

Edited by Fred Wan

 

 

The settlement was far from being a city, and had not grown in many years so had little chance of ever becoming one. It was more than simply a village, in spite of its name. Favored Star Village could best be described as a town, all things considered. It had an inn for the travelers who came through on a regular basis, boasted two sake houses and three tea houses, one temple to the Fortunes, and a monastery where almost two dozen members of the Brotherhood of Shinsei lived at any given time. All things considered, it was a very pleasant place to live, outside the borders of the Great Clans but close enough to the Miya provinces that it was never plagued by bandits. The people of Favored Star Village were a happy and prosperous folk.

That would not endure for long.

The ronin watched warily as the cart loaded with rice entered the walls of the monastery. Some rested their hands upon their weapons, looking from face to face among those villagers brave enough to gather nearby with obvious menace. Others did not look up at all, as if ashamed. Once the car was within the monastery, the doors were pushed close with a loud and ominous sound.

Within the monastery, a number of monks were gathered. Their expressions were no more hopeful than those outside in the village. The wizened abbot of the monastery looked at the cart with a particularly solemn expression. “This is the seasonal tithe,” he said. “The tax collectors are expected within a matter of weeks to collect this.”

A woman clad in the traditional wrappings of a sohei warrior monk seemed unconcerned with his statement. “We are simply expediting the matter.”

The abbot glanced at the woman and the five other sohei accompanying her, all bearing the same wrappings. “I do not believe that you act with the authority you claim,” he finally said. “You have no affiliation with the tax collectors despite the papers you bear.”

The woman glanced at him, her eyes cold and unfeeling. “Does that matter?”

The old man shook his head. “I am sorry, but I cannot allow you to take this rice. It is intended for the Empress, and the people of this village will suffer if they must surrender additional rice to take the place of what you have stolen.”

The woman chuckled. It was a terrible sound. “What will you do about it, wretch? Will the monks of the Order of Tengen write me a scathing letter?”

The old man looked down sadly, but his grip on his walking stick tightened. “I will do whatever I can. Whatever I must.”

This time the woman threw her head back and laughed. “You are pathetic! You are powerless to stop me.”

“I am not.”

The new voice caused the assembled sohei to brandish their weapons and form a defensive circle around their leader. “Who said that?” one of them demanded.

In answer, one of the ronin stepped forward and allowed his traveling cloak to slip free and fall to the ground, revealing exquisitely crafted light armor and a gleaming pair of blades concealed beneath. The woman growled. “How many ronin did you hire?” she demanded.

“Five, my lady!” one of the sohei replied.

“Idiot!” she said, backhanding him to the ground, “there are six of them!”

The man who was not a ronin stepped forward twice and to the left once, assuming a specific position. “This is over. On my authority as a magistrate of the Empress, you are all under arrest.”

“Oh, how pedestrian,” the woman said. “Kill him.”

The five ronin and the other sohei all advanced, but the man seemed unconcerned. “Now,” he said loudly. There was a faint sound, like distant whispering, and then a hail of arrows rained down from over the wall. The ronin fell almost at once, the area all around the man’s specific position filled with the lethal missiles.

One of the sohei was likewise felled, but the remaining four advanced with deadly intent even as their mistress crossed her arms. “Seppun Tashime,” she said, shaking her head. “I really should have anticipated your return. You are quite tenacious.”

Tashime cut one of the sohei down and narrowly avoided the bisento strike of a second. “What is the meaning of this?” he demanded. “You steal food from the mouths of the Empress’ subjects during a time of war? For what purpose?”

The woman shrugged. “The warriors of the Spider need food just as anyone else, and have little time for farming.”

Tashime grimaced in rage as he cut down another. “Impudent harlot! How dare you!”

“Are you angry with me because of what I have done?” the woman wondered aloud. “Or are you angry because everything I have done is your fault?”

Another hail of arrows took two of the monks, leaving Tashime facing one opponent. The two men circled one another. “I am not to blame for your madness, Grey Woman.”

“That is not my name,” she said. “Say it.”

“You are a blasphemy!” he roared.

“Speak my name!” she demanded.

Tashime cut down the final monk and leapt at her. “Shaiko!” he screamed.

She disappeared in an explosive blast of black fire, the force of which threw Tashime back into the cart of rice, scattering much of it across the ground. Despite the ringing in his ears, he could hear the crash as his deputies finally managed to force the monastery’s gates open. One of them rushed up to him, and Tashime could barely hear him yelling, asking where the Grey Woman was.

“Once she bested me,” Tashime muttered. “Now I have bested her once. The next time we meet, it will be the final time.”

 

 

The estate was utterly silent save for the strangely discordant whistles coming from a small series of carefully carved bamboo shoots hanging near an open window. The wind blew gentle through them, creating an odd series of whistles that were inexplicably soothing. Or perhaps he had simply changed so much from what he had once been that now chaos was the only thing in which he could take comfort.

One thing that had not changed was the delight he took in the scent of fresh brewing tea. Once he had preferred the robust flavor of Mountain Home blend, a tea common in his home province, but since his return to the Imperial City he found that he preferred the more subtle taste of Jade Coast blend. He was unsure if there was any significance to such a change.

An almost imperceptible rustle came from near the door, where his lone guardian stood. The man called Taishuu glanced at the doorway and smiled slightly. “Yodo-san, are you certain you will not take tea with me?”

Kitsuki Yodo regarded him silently for a moment. “You ask me that each time I take my shift within your estate, and I always decline. Thank you, no. Why do you persist in asking?”

Taishuu shrugged. “Perhaps I simply appreciate the courtesy with which you respond.”

“I see,” Yodo said. “Then I shall be sure to be more abrupt in the future.”

“That is of course your right,” Taishuu said. “Although for me it would be a great shame.” He went about the act of preparing his afternoon tea. “You seem to have this duty with more regularity than other members of my detail,” he observed. “I have long suspected that you have something you wish to ask me. Would I be incorrect?”

Yodo glared at him and did not appear ready to respond, so Taishuu continued. Patience had ever been one of his virtues. He was well into his second cup when Yodo’s resolve finally seemed to waver. “How can you have fallen so far?” she demanded.

Taishuu took another sip. “The estate is more opulent than any I have ever known, despite its current sparse decoration. I presume, then, that you refer to my association with the Spider Clan.”

“You are a traitor,” Yodo said, her voice shaking with anger. “Were it not a violation of my duty I would end your miserable existence without a second thought.”

“Would it surprise you to know that I consider my present existence a manifestation of my duty?”

Yodo waved the comment away. “Your duty to who? Your dark lord? Duty to one such as he is meaningless. You can take no glory from service to one without honor.”

“You speak of that which you do not understand,” Taishuu said. “But no, I do not consider this a matter of duty to Daigotsu. Or at least, not to Daigotsu alone. I consider this part of my service to the Dragon as well.”

“Then you are insane,” Yodo said firmly. “Nothing you do is in service to the Dragon.”

“Again, you speak of that which you do not know,” Taishuu said. “You speak of that which you cannot know.”

The Kitsuki frowned. “Explain it to me, then. Make me understand, if you are as sane as you seem.”

“I will,” Taishuu said, “but only in exchange for something from you.”

“No,” she said at once. “I promise nothing to you.”

“I wish only for your promise that what I tell you shall not be spoken of to another,” Taishuu said. “I ask only for your word of honor that everything I speak of to you remains a secret between us until such time as your death.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You must know that I would break my word to reveal any threats to the clan, the Empire, or the Empress that you revealed to me. Even if it required my seppuku to cleanse the stain of my broken word.”

“I would expect no less from a warrior of your caliber,” Taishuu said with a smile. “No, that which I would speak of to you would pose no threats to any that you have sworn to protect, nor any within the Empire at all, in truth.”

Yodo was silent for a time. Slowly, she nodded. “I would hear it, then,” she said quietly. “If you would speak of it, I would like… I need… to understand how any honorable Dragon warrior could be brought to this.” She drew a deep breath. “I give my word.”

Taishuu smiled, but it was a sad expression. “I am glad to hear it. Please, sit with me. Take tea with me.”

Kitsuki Yodo frowned, but she stepped forward and joined Taishuu at the low table.

 

 

It was supposed to be a peaceful return to camp, yet something startled Horiuchi Nobane out of his slumber and he nearly slid off his saddle. He wrapped his reins around his left arm and pulled himself upright. A round of soft chuckles informed him that his lapse had not gone unnoticed, yet none of his comrades were heckling him. The lack of friendly ribbing was uncharacteristic of the camaraderie that had grown between Nobane and his troops as they faced the long grind of the war against the Destroyers. In any normal moment, the tiers of military hierarchy would not have stopped the mockery, but Nobane figured the presence of general Utaku Yu-Pan at the head of the force forced everyone at their best behavior.

Of course, Nobane mused, the fact that everyone else was at the brink of exhaustion themselves dampened their enthusiasm.

Iuchi Kota spurred his horse and matched Nobane’s pace to ride by his side.

“Is it your injuries again, Nobane-san?” Kota asked quietly, so the others could not hear.

Nobane shook his head quickly in denial. “It is simply fatigue, Kota. We’ve all been ridden ragged and I’m no different.”

Kota’s face remained devoid of emotion, but he did not relent from his line of polite assault. “We are all weary, Nobane-san, but none of us have suffered multiple devastating injuries in the course of these months. The Destroyers tore your knee at Shiro Kuni. You were nearly eviscerated last month along the Crane border, and you took some nasty blows during the last retreat. My prayers to the kami can keep you in the saddle, but not if you continue your brazen defiance of the possible.”

“That’s all in the past,” Nobane answered with a breeziness he did not feel. “I continue fighting by the grace of the kami, and I can repay their kindness by doing what I can to repel this newest corruption.”

“You cannot take these wounds lightly, Nobane. They have marked you to the deepest recesses of your soul, no matter how fast your body knits. You must sense the weariness settling in your bones. That will never fade, unless you give your body time to heal.”

“Kota-san—” Nobane started to say.

Kota interrupted him, his calm, even tone never changing for an instant. “I am not beseeching the gods to mend your body to watch you ride yourself to the ground. This will not be the last war you will ever face, Nobane-san, even if you wish it to be.”

Nobane absent-mindedly patted Lobai’s neck as he reflected on the shugenja’s demands. “And what about you?”

“I feel the fatigue, but little else,” Kota replied.

Nobane took a closer look at his friend. Now that he was paying attention, he could tell that the shugenja was paler than usual, despite his denial.

“I’ve spoken to Taiyung and the other Iuchi in our detachment. The presence of that… abomination is distorting the kami in its presence. We approached close to the creature’s position during the last ride.”

“You forget, I was taught by the Kuni,” Kota replied. “I am accustomed to the corruptive nature of the Shadowlands. I can adjust. There are so few of us who can speak to the kami among our troops that I can only relent if my death is the alternative.”

“You understand my feelings perfectly, Kota-san,” Nobane said, smiling.

“I will place myself off active duty the moment I am asleep on my steed,” Kota said. “You are lucky you recovered in time, my friend. If you had fallen off Lobai, you would have never heard the end of it from your men.”

“With good reason,” Nobane agreed. “Thank you for your advice, Kota-san. You never fail to tell me exactly what I need to hear.”

The shugenja acknowledged the concession with a tiny nod. Reinvigorated, Nobane quickened his pace and moved past the slow moving procession to its head. She was at the very head of the convoy, speaking to one of her advisors in a quiet tone. Even from afar, he could see the iron and determination of her soul. Despite the overwhelming numbers before her, Utaku Yu-Pan had never failed to lead the Unicorn forces with cleverness and resolve.

As Nobane approached, Yu-Pan waved the other away and directed her full attention to the Horiuchi.

“Good work organizing the retreat, Nobane-san. We suffered far fewer casualties than my advisors expected, mostly thanks to your efforts,” she said.

A tight smile crossed his face. “I wish I had not become so accustomed to fleeing, but the Destroyers have given me ample practice over the months. I just wish we could have made more of a difference in that battle, but I do not see how we could have done any better.”

“It may feel that way, but I assure you we are making a grand difference in the war. The plight of the southern front has garnered serious Imperial attention,” Yu-Pan said. “More troops are pouring into the southern lands as we speak, creating a standing army like has never been seen before. They will provide all the stationary defense Rokugan will need. It falls to us to fill the holes, harass the enemy, and slow their progress no matter what action they may take.”

Nobane could only nod in agreement.

“We are not returning to that Crane estate, Nobane,” Yu-Pan suddenly said. “I intend to regroup at Jin-Sahn’s camp and see what the Shogun intends of our troops.”

“You intend to fold our forces with the Imperial ones?” Nobane asked.

Yu-Pan snorted. “Not for one instant. I don’t mind listening to suggestions, and of course I will direct our forces wherever the Empire needs us most, but I will decide where that is. What I do intend, however, is to reap the benefits of our new Imperial attention. A courier has informed me that Jin-Sahn has fresh supplies and armor for us all.”

“Welcome news indeed,” Nobane said. He hesitated for one moment before finally speaking the words. “Yu-Pan-sama, I must leave your service when we return to safety. I need to rest before I am refreshed to lead your men. I fear that I will make a mistake if I continue to push myself.”

Yu-Pan smiled and her entire face lit up with beauty. “Of course. Return to me when you are back at your best, Nobane. The war will still be here when you return to your duties.”