The Gift of the Shogun

By Shawn Carman
Edited by Fred Wan

[Note: This fiction takes place after the events depicted in the Rise of the Shogun rulebook fiction.]

The Crab Estate in Toshi Ranbo

Toritaka Tatsune pushed the door open and strode into the room. He grimaced only slightly, and managed to keep from rubbing his sore leg. The muggy autumn weather always made it ache more, although it would be far worse when winter arrived. The old sensei plopped heavily down into one of the larger chairs that had been made especially for him, and gestured for the man following him to do the same. “Well,” he said after a moment, “go ahead and sit.”

“I think I prefer to stand for the moment,” the older man said, glancing around the room. “Your home is very… stark. Little in the way of decoration.”

“Stark is a word you will need to become used to hearing,” Tatsune grumbled. “Everyone says that about the Crab lands. I imagine you’ll be visiting there soon enough.” He paused for a moment. “Otoya, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Otoya answered. “And that is your decision to make, is it not? What shall become of me now that the Shogun has offered my services to your clan?”

“Yes,” Tatsune said. “Kuon-sama respects the Shogun, hence his acceptance of Kaneka-sama’s offer. You, however,” he pointed with one gigantic finger, “he neither knows nor respects, and he will not have you in his lands unless I determine you are fit to serve.”

“Of course,” Otoya said. “What would you have me do?”

Tatsune paused. “I do not know, I suppose,” he admitted. “Sit and drink with me, to begin with.”

Otoya smiled wanly. “If I must.” The older man sat and took the sake Tatsune offered. “My areas of expertise are in matters of a tactical nature and, much like you, as a sensei. I have fought for and against most Great Clans in my lifetime. Whatever insight I can offer you, your lord Kuon is welcome to it.”

Tatsune grunted. “For and against most clans, you say. So you fight for money, then?”

“Yes,” Otoya readily admitted.

“That hardly seems like a quality to trust in another,” Tatsune said. “Will you betray us if someone offers you more?”

“The Shogun has ensured that money is no longer my concern,” Otoya said with a smile. “I had once imagined that my absolute loyalty could not be purchased. As it turns out, I simply had not discovered its price yet. I am yours to command as you will.”

Tatsune frowned. “Have you ever fought alongside the Crab?”

“I have fought alongside a Crab general, yes,” Otoya said. “He was a most interesting commander to serve, and I learned much of your clan’s tactical mindset from him. Tell me, are the Damned still present in the Crab lands?”

“Yes,” the old sensei said, “although not in the numbers they once were.”

“Unfortunate,” Otoya observed. “I have always wondered why such troops were not put to greater use by your clan. They seem a tremendous asset. Stronger, faster, more resilient, prone to fits of explosive, violent rage. I imagine there have been commanders throughout history tempted to subject their men to the Shadowlands purely in hopes of gaining such assets.”

“Not among the Crab,” Tatsune said cautiously. “Never. Only fools believe that degradation of the soul is an improvement.”

“Of course,” Otoya said. “It was merely an observation.”

Tatsune rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “There is a commander in the Hida lands,” he said after a moment’s consideration, “who is preparing the Damned as a large, single unit. He is training them for a specific engagement. It will be difficult, of course, and fatalities are likely to be astronomical. Still, perhaps the commander could benefit from the tactical advice of a man such as yourself.”

“Intriguing,” Otoya said with a nod. “Who is this commander?”

Tatsune smiled. “I think it would be best if you met him. We should make preparations for your immediate departure.”

“Excellent,” Otoya said. “I look forward to it.”

Shiro Daidoji

A stranger stood in a largely empty chamber on the western wing of Shiro Daidoji. He did not seem concerned about his surroundings, glancing about here and there out of curiosity more than anything else. He folded his hands into his sleeves and touched nothing, merely waited patiently with an odd smile on his face.

A Crane marched through the doorway into the chamber, his blue kimono rustling quietly. His long grey hair was swept back, falling loosely on his shoulders. His lower face was concealed with a mask that seemed more suitable for a Scorpion than a Crane, but his eyes were piercing. “Are you Naoharu?” he demanded brusquely.

“I am,” the stranger said. “My lord Kaneka sent me.”

“Delightful,” the older samurai said. “I expect you will be of almost no use to us whatsoever, but I suppose that is not my decision to make. My lord Kikaze is not in attendance, and is not expected to return for some time. You will be assigned quarters. I will oversee your duties, such as they are, until then.”

“You seem familiar to me,” Naoharu said. “Have we met before?”

“I doubt that,” the old man said.

“Odd,” Naoharu said. “Still, it’s a shame you’re such a fool.”

The old Crane stopped in his tracks. “I beg your pardon?” he whispered.

“You heard me,” Naoharu said. “You have no idea whether or not I will be an asset to you. You have no notion as to my skills or experience, yet you dismiss me out of hand. Is it wise to cast a tool aside without determining if it can be useful to you? Even one you can afford to discard in the process of fulfilling its task?”

The old man’s brow furrowed. “I imagine you have a point,” he said after a moment. “Tell me, then. How can you be useful to the Crane?”

“To begin with, you desperately need someone who can attempt to repair the damage being done with the rice trade situation. Whoever is responsible for the current market manipulation is either a fool or merely incompetent.”

“I am certain I have no idea what you mean.”

Naoharu raised his eyebrows. “Truly? Curious. I will pretend for a moment that you are sincere. What is happening is that certain elements within your clan are manipulating the trade of rice between the Crane and Crab so that the excess rice the Crab purchase is more expensive. Why this is being done, I’m not certain, given how wealthy the Crane are already, but it is for whatever reason. And it’s being done poorly.”

“And you wish to expose this… indiscretion?”

Naoharu burst out laughing. “No, don’t be ridiculous. I was ordered to serve the Crane, and serve the Crane I will. I wish to correct the mistakes before they lead to ruin. Already the Crab and Lion have some inkling of what is being done. Any evidence to support their claims needs to disappear immediately, and nothing should remain to give them further reason to suspect anything is amiss.”

“Interesting,” the old Crane said. “Perhaps you will have value after all.”

“I should say so,” Naoharu said with a smile. “I am afraid I do not know your name.”

“Doji Fumisato,” the old Crane said. “Let us walk and discuss the matter futher.”

Shiro Kitsuki

The lands south of Shiro Kitsuki were clearly suffering from recent battles. The earth had been churned repeatedly into mud, leaving behind little in the way of vegetation. What little did remain had been consumed by the legions of horses that accompanied any army. And there was moisture everywhere, far more than the weather should have permitted. Fusami knew that it was blood. The sheer amount of it sickened her, as did the swarms of insects and the carrion birds feasting upon it.

The last third of the trip from Toshi Ranbo was the most difficult part. There were numerous encampments of Crane and Lion soldiers all throughout the region, and they were not particularly hospitable. Still, her travel papers bore the Imperial seal, and there was little they could do to delay her trip without shaming themselves. And so she had slowly made her way up the war-torn mountain to Shiro Kitsuki, which was firmly behind the Dragon front lines.

“Welcome to the Dragon lands.” The woman who greeted her upon her arrival was beautiful, and clad in exquisite attire. Her face bore signs of stress, but her smile was warm enough. “I am Kitsuki Iweko, Lady of the Kitsuki. It is my pleasure to welcome you to your new home.”

“Thank you,” Fusami said with a smile. “Hospitality is a delightful change after the trip from the capital.”

Iweko smiled wistfully. “I apologize for that,” she said. “Would that our situation was different.”

“Fate is not for such as us to change,” Fusami said.

Iweko raised an eyebrow. “A curious sentiment, for a duelist. I have met many who are certain that their fate is theirs and theirs alone.”

“I would wager that those you speak of did not survive to enjoy their supposed destiny,” Fusami observed.

“Possibly so,” Iweko said. “I understand that your style is exceptional. Do you practice the Kakita technique?”

“No,” she said. “My technique has no name. It cannot be spoken.”

“Oh? Why is that?”

“It bears the name of my father, who created the style for his clan. I was among his last students. When I left my home on a warrior pilgrimage, I did not know that he was an agent of the Kolat. He was executed, and his style was cast aside. His name was struck from all historical records. I have left my clan behind, but I will not violate their edict and speak his name. It would be improper.”

“Then we will of course respect your wishes,” Iweko said. “Lord Rosanjin is regrettably unavailable, and did not leave instructions as to your assignment. How can I make you comfortable as our guest until his return?”

Fuasmi smiled. “Show me to the dojo, please.”

The Lion Estate in Toshi Ranbo

Kitsu Katsuko poured two cups of steaming tea, her delicate hands seemingly unaffected by the scalding temperature of the porcelain bottle she held. She smiled lightly across the table as she sat the bottle down, then looked at her guest inquisitively for several moments. “You are a rather curious sort,” she finally observed. “Not at all what I expected.”

Uchito frowned. “Thank you, my lady,” he said. He sat unmoving for several moments before finally reaching and taking the tea. He sipped at it cautiously, then smiled and drank it. “The tea is quite good, thank you.”

“I had always heard that a cunning ronin never drank anything that he did not see another drink first,” Katsuko mused. “Does that mean that you are not cunning, or that you are not a ronin?”

“It means I am no fool, I suppose,” Uchito answered. “The Shogun has bade me serve the Lion, even going so far as to specify that if his orders countermand yours, I am to ignore his.” He shrugged. “If the Lion want me dead, there will be little I can do to stop it.”

Katsuko’s smile widened and seemed more genuine. “Well said,” she said, taking up the tea and drinking it yourself. “I have found out many things about you, Uchito, all of which have been quite interesting. The one thing I cannot discover is why you served the Shogun in the first place. No one seems to know.”

“It is a matter of honor,” Uchito replied. “During his first Shogunate, Kaneka-sama found the man who murdered my father.”

“I see,” Katsuko said. “And he avenged him?”

“No,” Uchito replied. “He detained him until he could locate my brother and I, and then allowed us to avenge him.” He sat the cup down. “For that, we will serve him until death.”

Katsuko nodded appreciatively. “That, I can respect.” She paused as she sipped her tea. “What do you expect now that you have sworn loyalty to the Lion?”

“I do not know,” Uchito said. “I shall serve in whatever capacity you wish.”

“Do you know a man named Drunken Tiger?” Katsuko asked casually.

Uchito frowned. “The bandit leader? He and his men plague the southwestern Phoenix provinces. They have proven difficult to apprehend because of their access to and familiarity with the northern mountains and the Phoenix woodlands. Why do you ask?”

“The Akodo regiments stationed near the Dragon border recently had a confrontation with this Drunken Tiger,” Katsuko said. “He did not survive, but we have learned that his death has created a bit of a… let us call it a vacancy of power among the various bandit groups in the southern Phoenix provinces. Due to the Phoenix Clan’s recent wars and some other internal matters they are dealing with at the present, they are having a difficult time dealing with the situation. Apparently, one of Shigetoshi’s commanders, Akodo Bakin, feels responsible and has offered to send a detachment to assist with the situation.”

“Interesting,” Uchito said. “And the Phoenix have agreed to this?”

“They were initially resistant, but the offer is somewhat generous and can build good will between our clans, so they have acquiesced. What I require is a man who has knowledge of the area and individuals in question. Are you that man?”

“I am,” he answered at once. “My brother and I…” he trailed off for a moment. “I am well acquainted with the area,” he continued. “I can lead your man Bakin.”

“Very good, then,” Katsuko nodded. “I look forward to reading his report.” She handed him a scroll. “These are your papers. Leave as soon as you are ready.”

Uchito took the scroll. “I am ready now, my lady.”

The Yoritomo estates in Toshi Ranbo

Two green-clad women walked quickly through the halls, speaking quietly to one another. They were both lovely women, although one was obviously younger than the other. Their attire was exquisite, though the older woman showed more flesh than was typically considered appropriate in public, much less in a formal court setting. The two women swept quickly into a small, private room, where a third woman was waiting. For a brief moment, the three regarded one another without speaking, perhaps assessing each other. The youngest of the three seemed uncomfortable, but her companion and the black-clad woman that had awaited them seemed completely at ease. “Hello,” the older of the pair finally said. “Welcome to the Mantis estate. I assume you are Sachina, the Shogun’s appointed advisor?”

“Yes,” Sachina answered. Her black silk attire was not as elaborate as the two Mantis, but was well made all the same. Her eyes hinted at a secret that amused her. “May I ask your name?”

“I am Yoritomo Yoyonagi,” the older woman said, “acting as chief ambassador to the Imperial Court. This is my student and assistant, Yoritomo Yashinko.”

“Hello,” Yashinko said with a smile. “Welcome.”

“Thank you,” Sachina replied. “I must admit that I am quite taken with the style of your home. I have encountered the Mantis only infrequently in my travels. I have rarely been off the mainland for any length of time.”

“Unfortunate for you,” Yoyonagi said with a sad smile. “I’m sure you would be of greater use to the clan if you were more familiar with our customs. Still, I’m told you are quite skilled at manipulation. Perhaps we can find something for you to do in court.”

Sachina raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? How wonderful for me. I imagine manipulation will be a useful skill.”

Yashinko frowned. “Why do you say that?”

“Oh, I meant no offense,” Sachina said. “I merely thought that since your mistress here chooses to bare such a scandalous amount of flesh, she must have few other tools at her disposal.”

Yoyonagi’s smile broadened. “You might be surprised. And from what I’m told, I should think your seamstress finds mine practically prudish.”

“Perhaps,” Sachina said, “or perhaps merely behind the times.”

“This accomplishes very little!” Yashinko said sternly. “I was of the impression our duty was to serve the Mantis rather than plague one another with petty insults.”

“You are right, of course,” Yoyonagi said. “My apologies. If we are to be rivals as well as allies, Sachina, then perhaps we should find a different outlet for our… shall we call them competitive urges?”

“That seems reasonable enough,” Sachina agreed. “After all, we have the off-season to berate one another.”

Yoyonagi actually laughed at that. “Of course,” she said. “As for the present, shall we see who can arrange the most profitable trade agreements with an ally? I should think that would prove interesting enough for the moment.”

“Oh, I agree,” Sachina said with a smile.

The city of Nikesake, the Phoenix provinces

The doorway to the small Phoenix castle in the city’s center darkened considerably as a massive form blocked virtually all light coming into the audience chamber from outside. A man larger than any in the city stalked into the room and dropped his traveling sack unceremoniously on the floor. It looked as though two sacks had been sewn together to make it, and surely at least four kimono had been stitched to one another to create the cloth that concealed the man’s gigantic frame.

“Hello,” he said, his voice nearly a bellow. “I’m here.”

“So you are,” a slight Phoenix samurai said with a grim smile. “Welcome to Nikesake. You are the Shogun’s emissary, I take it?”

“I am,” the man answered. “I am Masakazu, the terror of Friendly Traveler Village and the ogre of the Twilight Mountains.”

“How proud you must be,” the Shiba answered flatly. “I am Shiba Naoya. My brother, the Phoenix Champion, instructed me to oversee your acclimation to the area. I trust your travels were pleasant?”

“Hardly,” Masakazu grunted. “There’s scarcely a decent sake house between here and the capital. How do you survive?”

“It is a meager existence, surely,” Naoya said smartly. “May I introduce…”

“By the Fortunes!” Masakazu swore. “Is this your daughter?”

Naoya frowned, but the slight woman at his side laughed brightly. “Hardly,” she said. “I am Isawa Ochiai, the Master of Fire. I wished to welcome you as well. I have heard some… interesting tales of your past.”

“They doubtless pale before the truth,” the massive man said, flexing his considerable muscles in the process. “I believe you may be the smallest woman I’ve ever seen.”

“A flatterer as well as a soldier,” Naoya observed.

“She knows she is lovely, I don’t have to tell her that,” Masakazu grumbled.

“Thank you, Ochiai said. “I have wondered, Masakazu, what do you think was Kaneka’s intent in assigning you to us as his advisor.”

“I am his advisor no longer,” Masakazu corrected. “I serve the Phoenix now.”

“Be that as it may, why you?” Ochiai persisted.

Masakazu pondered for a moment. “Kaneka once told me that the Shiba were fine and honorable men, but that on occasion an important shugenja needed someone on hand that could handle matters with a bit less delicacy. I suppose he thought me indelicate.”

“I can’t imagine,” Naoya said. “What was Kaneka thinking if…”

“Be at ease, Naoya,” Ochiai said. “I think Masakazu would make a most entertaining yojimbo.”

“Many fine ladies have found me wildly entertaining,” Masakazu confirmed.

“Excellent,” Ochiai smiled. “Then you shall be mine, at least for the moment.”

“Outstanding!” Masakazu roared. “This calls for sake!”

Naoya covered his face with his hand and shook his head.

Kyuden Bayushi

Daigotsu Soetsu sat quietly in his chambers. ‘Cell’ might be a more accurate description, but it amused him to think of them as guest quarters. The irony of the situation was that these quarters were far and away more opulent than the chambers that had been assigned to him while he was still a Hiruma, so many years ago. For the Scorpion, of course, these rooms were probably little more than a storage room. For him, they were all that he required. There were no windows, of course, and only a single door, which was well-guarded on the other side. Soetsu felt secure in his chambers, not so much as he once had, before the one called Aroru had managed to gain entrance and surprise him a short time ago, but he had found his center again.

There was a stirring outside his door, and Soetsu regarded it curiously for several moments. No one came through, so he reclined again and sat in meditation. He spent many hours a day meditating. It was the only way he could curb his baser impulses, and he knew well enough that violence would not serve him in his current circumstances. The urges were merely a test that Fu Leng had placed before him, and he would persevere.

The stirring outside the door came again, louder this time, and Soetsu felt a wave of irritation. He rose and approached to door to see what was taking place. He had to be cautious, of course, for he was certain that the sentries had been instructed to kill him instantly if it appeared he was trying to escape. Before Soetsu reached the door, however, it slid open suddenly, and a looming form appeared. For the first time since he could remember, Soetsu felt the fluttering of fear in his chest.

“Greetings, Foul one,” a hissing, sibilant voice said. “You are the one called So-etsu, yes?”

Soetsu gazed up at the massive creature that filled the entire entryway to his chambers. “I am,” he said defiantly. If this creature had been sent to kill him, it would find him difficult prey.

“I am Qelsaurth, jakla of the Cobra bloodline,” the creature said, “and emissary of the Naga race. The Sho-gun has sent me to speak with you.”

“The Shogun,” Soetsu said flatly. He vaguely remembered a letter from the Shogun some time ago. It had amused him to respond, but he honestly could not recall what the Shogun had asked him. It had seemed innocuous at the time, and Soetsu had refrained from dwelling on it so as to not arouse unnecessary suspicion.

“The Sho-gun,” the Naga repeated. “My friend, the one called Kaneka.” Seeing that Soetsu had no response, the Naga tilted his head to the side. “Do you speak the common human language?”

“Yes,” Soetsu responded, almost mechanically. “I do not understand why you are here.”

“The Sho-gun has placed his advisors among the human bloodlines called clans,” Qelsaurth said. “He wishes to respect the wishes of his hatch-mate, the one called Emperor, who did not order your death. Thus, the Sho-gun wishes to respect you as the Emperor’s guest until such time as the Emperor orders you killed.”

“Touching,” Soetsu said, not even attempting to keep the sarcasm from his voice.

“I requested the duty as your advisor,” Qelsaurth continued. “I was interested in the chance to study a captive specimen of the Foul and discover more about your flaws.”

Soetsu glanced around the room briefly. “And the Scorpion permitted you entry without complaint?”

“They did seem rather agitated,” the Naga admitted. “Their lord wishes to speak to the Sho-gun, but they chose not to ignore his edict.”

“Interesting,” Soetsu said. “What is it you wish to discuss, then?”

“A great many things,” Qelsaurth said eagerly. “So much has happened since my people returned to sleep. I wish to understand, if you will share with me.”

Soetsu nodded. “It does get rather boring in here,” he admitted. He gestured to the low table across the room. “Shall we sit, then?”

Shinden Horiuchi, the Unicorn provinces

The gates to the temple swung open despite that there were no guards attending to them. A lone man strode out into the muggy autumn air. He smiled broadly at the lone traveler approaching. “Little sister,” he said warmly. “Welcome home.”

Rikako smiled. “It has been a long time since anyone called me that,” she said. “I did not realize I had missed it.”

“There are many of us that have missed the little girl we once called sister,” the man replied. “We will all welcome you back into the fold.”

Rikako’s smile only widened. “It is good to see you again, Shem-Zhe.”

Horiuchi Shem-Zhe nodded. His smiled faltered momentarily, and his brow wrinkled. “Rikako, what have you done to your hands?”

The shugenja glanced down at her hands. On each finger, a long, dark nail protruded several inches from her fingertips. A wistful smile appeared on her face. “An unfortunate by-product of a bargain struck with a powerful spirit. Across the sands they refer to such an arrangement as a geas. Unpleasant, but well worth it in the long run, I’ve discovered.”

Shem-Zhe’s smile had evaporated. “You must be cautious, Rikako. Spirits such as those that demand tribute like this should not be trafficked with lightly.”

“I know,” she said with a grateful smile. “I am ever cautious. I only wish to learn as much as possible. Knowledge is not worth my soul, however. I have not forgotten Shoan-sama’s lessons.”

The look of concern lingered on the elder Unicorn’s face for a moment, then was swept away. “Enough of such things,” he said pleasantly. “We are delighted to have you at Shinden Horiuchi once more. You will be staying with us for some time, I hope?”

“Unfortunately no,” she said. She took a scroll from within her obi. “These are the orders I received from the Unicorn embassy in Toshi Ranbo. I am to report elsewhere in three days time.” She smirked. “I think they underestimated my traveling speed.”

Shem-Zhe frowned. “May I?” He took the scroll from her and unrolled it. He read quickly, his expression growing more concerned by the moment. He muttered something under his breath and rubbed his eyes with his fingertips.

“What is it?” Rikako asked.

“The Khan has ordered you to work serve Moto Tsusung until such time as your loyalty can be assured,” he replied.

“Yes,” she said. “I am not familiar with this Tsusung. Is there a problem?”

“Tsusung is the head of a sect within the clan that reveres the Shi-Tien Yen-Wang, also called the Lords of Death. They are powerful gaijin spirits that now serve as judges for the spirits of the dead in Meido.

Rikako’s eyes brightened. “I have heard of these Lords you speak of,” she said excitedly. “I have always found the idea extremely interesting, but few speak of such things to ronin.”

“Interesting?” Shem-Zhe shook his head. “Dangerous, I would call them. Do not be drawn into their rituals, little sister. It is far too dangerous.”

Rikako grinned and said nothing.

The Imperial Palace, Toshi Ranbo

The Shogun strode through the empty halls of the Imperial Palace with a scowl on his face. The Court had been adjourned for a short period, and many representatives had returned to their homes to confer with their lords regarding the impending Winter Court. It seemed odd to discuss such things, given the oppressive humidity within the city, but Kaneka supposed that few else even noticed the discrepancy.

Kaneka glanced down at the scroll that had requested his presence, checking once again to confirm that the Imperial Chancellor’s seal was legitimate. It appeared to be, but he could not imagine why the old man would wish to speak with him. The two had rarely spoken in the past, and he had a marked distaste for Bayushi Kaukatsu. The old man was nigh impossible to assess, and that made him extremely dangerous. Kaneka disliked dangers that he could not deal with personally, and so avoided him. He steeled himself as he entered the Imperial Court chambers, unsure of what he would find within.

“The Shogun,” the gravelly voice of Kaukatsu said. The old man was seated on his dais, where he normally remained during court sessions. He fanned himself lazily and nodded to the others beside him. “I believe you know my lord Bayushi Paneki.”

“I do,” Kaneka said with a respectful nod. There was a second Scorpion he did not know, and, inexplicably, a Nezumi. “I was relieved to hear that your betrothed was recovered, Paneki-sama. She is a fine warrior, and served my sister well.”

“Thank you,” Paneki said. “You sent a Naga to my home.”

On any other day, that might seem an odd statement, but recently Kaneka had come to expect oddities. “I did.”

“The Lost ambassador is my responsibility,” Paneki said. “I will not brook interference, even from the Shogun.”

“I have done only what I must in order to maintain proper adherence to the Emperor’s wishes.”

“The Emperor’s wishes were that the ambassador be held at Kyuden Bayushi and administrated by me,” Paneki said, a rare note of anger coloring his voice. “Your interference is neither necessary nor appreciated.”

“That is your opinion,” Kaneka said.

“When your brother returns,” Paneki said, “you will be held accountable. Until then, I am leaving my vassal to oversee my interests in the city personally.” He gestured to the young man behind him. “Shosuro Jimen may be young, but I trust him far more than you.”

Kaneka forced a smile. “That is your right as Champion.”

“And I will exercise it now,” Paneki insisted.

“The One Tribe reject your defense of this warren as well!” the Nezumi Zin’tch said. “You friends with Naga! The One Tribe cannot trust you!”

“Yes,” Kaneka said. “Well… my apologies, ambassador.”

With Kaukatsu smiling strangely, the three Scorpion and the Nezumi left. With their departure, Kaneka was left alone in the Imperial Court chambers. The rooms seemed so much larger when they were empty, but of course that was such a rare occurrence that it hardly ever happened. Kaneka drew in a deep breath, ignoring the strange mixture of incense and perfumes, and tried to clear his mind. Everything was so complicated now, even his dreams were filled with scheming and wrangling. There never seemed to be any rest.

The Shogun’s eyes were drawn to the throne at the front of the chamber. It seemed so simple a thing to look at it, and yet the entire city was thrown into chaos by the question of whether or not he wished to sit upon it. Why did it matter? What difference did it make?

The doorway opened and someone entered. Kaneka recognized the gait without turning around. “Danjuro,” he said flatly. “What crisis plagues us now?”

“No crisis,” his lieutenant said quietly. “Forgive me for intruding. I merely wished to see if… if you were alright.”

Kaneka glanced over his shoulder at the Phoenix samurai with a grateful expression. “I am as well as can be expected, all things considered,” he said.

Danjuro bowed sharply. “Then I will leave you to your thoughts.”

“Wait,” Kaneka said as the younger man turned to leave. “I want to ask you a question.”

“Of course,” Danjuro said.

Kaneka was silent for a moment, his eyes never leaving the throne. “Is it true, Danjuro?” he asked quietly. “Is it inevitable that I shall come to see this throne as mine, and lose all I have created trying to take it?”

Danjuro said nothing for a moment. “I believe that you are a great and honorable man,” he finally said, “and that there are many who wish to use you as a tool in their struggles for power. How can one man endure so many selfish whispers? I do not know. I do not have your strength.”

“That was not an answer,” Kaneka observed. “Are you afraid to answer?”

Danjuro steeled himself. “I do not believe that you will take the throne, though I believe there are many who will try to urge you to do so.”

“Chagatai,” Kaneka said. “Perhaps even Kaukatsu.”

“Kaukatsu?” Danjuro said uncertainly. “The Chancellor?”

“He is playing some game, and believes me to be a piece on his board,” Kaneka said. “I do not yet know what game, but I will find out soon enough.” He stood quietly again for a long moment. “Danjuro, do you remember the Blood Hunt?”

The Phoenix samurai blinked in surprise. “Of course, Kaneka-sama.”

Kaneka shook his head. “We assumed command of the Legions without the authority to do so,” he said. “We scoured the Empire and killed hundreds, perhaps thousands, of Bloodspeakers. It could so easily have been a coup. It could have become a civil war.”

“You would not have done that,” Danjuro said.

“I considered it,” Kaneka said. “Do you know why I did not?” He turned away from the throne. “Because of the Emperor. Because of my brother, Naseru.”

Danjuro shook his head. “I do not understand.”

“I was such a threat to his throne at that moment,” Kaneka said. “In those months, I could have seized his Empire from him, and he did nothing. Not because he was weak or impotent, but because he knew that I could destroy the Bloodspeakers. He was willing to risk his throne in order to ensure a threat to his people would be eliminated forever.”

Danjuro smiled. “The Righteous Emperor is a great man.”

Kaneka looked up from the floor. “I promised him that I would never seek the throne. Yet he has abandoned it and gone in search of enlightenment. How does that change the weight of my promise?”

“I do not know,” Danjuro answered.

“I do.” Kaneka adjusted the blades in his obi and took one last look over his shoulder. “It changes nothing at all.” He turned to his friend and smiled. “Come, Danjuro. We have a city, a throne, and an Empress to protect. Even if they do not wish our protection.”

“Hai, Shogun.”