The War of Dark Fire, Part 15

By Shawn Carman

Edited by Fred Wan

Nearly three dozen men descended from the mountains, moving like shadows through the plains in the northern portion of the Empire. They moved at night, rapidly, covering as much ground as possible as quickly as possible, and killing anything in their path. It was not until the first rays of dawn broke over the eastern horizon that they gazed across the fields at the village of Toi Koku.

“With the winter over, they will be preparing to distribute the supplies stored here to last until the harvest,” the leader of the men said. “We kill anything we find, secure the village, and ready the wagons. The others will follow with the dusk, and we will vacate the entirety of its stores.” The man licked his lips hungrily. “If what we have been told is to be believed, the village can feed the army for three, perhaps four weeks.”

“What is left of the army,” one of the others muttered.

“Enough of that!” the leader hissed. “Move!”

The men slipped into the village like phantoms, gliding effortlessly from building to building without a sound. Buildings were entered quickly and exited just as quickly, with perplexed looks. After only a matter of moments, they reached the village’s center, where there were crates and barrels numbering in the hundreds.

“What is going on here?” one of the men asked. “Where is everyone?”

“Evacuated,” the leader said, staring hungrily at the crates of food. “Find the wagons and let us get started.”

“Wait,” the other man continued. “Why are the supplies in the village center? This makes no sense.”

“Be silent!” the leader rasped.

“And what is that smell?”

One of the other men stepped up and struck the speaker across the side of the head, sending him reeling into the dirt. “Enough of your talk!” the man snarled. “We need no reminders of our misfortune!”

The speaker staggered to his feet, holding his head. “It is not my fault the fire has burned away your sense of smell,” he muttered under his breath. He did smell something, though, something acrid and unusual. Even his sense of smell had been damaged, but he knew that it was not food, nor even the strange spices the Rokugani used to garnish their meals. It was something familiar… he had smelled it before. If only he could remember.

“Hunt master,” one of the men said. “Sentry!”

The leader looked upward and spied a single samurai, crouched atop one of the buildings on the far edge of the village. “What a fool,” he snarled. “Crossbows.”

The others unslung their weapons from their backs and began knocking bolts, smiling at the thought of another samurai slain. The one who could still smell did not, an unidentified panic welling up in his chest. “Where have I smelled it before?” he whispered to himself.

As the others took aim, the samurai, one of the Crane, rose and drew his bow, the tip of his arrow smoldering with an ember taken from a torch, or perhaps a fire the Yobanjin could not see. He drew and fired in one smooth motion, the arrow arcing high above them and coming toward the supplies.

“Oh gods,” the raider whispered. “It’s lantern oil!” He turned and ran, his legs pumping as fast as they could. He heard the twanging of the crossbows behind him, and the wooshing sound of the “supplies” engulfed in flame. Ribbons of fire followed trails of oil throughout the village.  The raider prayed to his people’s gods that he would reach the edge of the village in time.

He did not.

* * *

Doji Nagori perused the scroll as he walked, nodding at parts. It seemed that the two agents he had dispatched had succeeded wonderfully in their assignments. Kirimi had proven her worth in Ukabu Mura weeks earlier, but that she had managed to take a man such as Kakita Okirou, a man who admittedly had little skill as a scout, all the way to Toi Koku and successfully extracted him was an incredible testament to the young woman’s abilities. Nagori made a mental note to speak to his military adjunct about arrangement a promotion for the young woman upon her return. Okirou would have no interest in such things, of course; the man was more an artisan than anything else, but he was also far and away the most skilled archer in the Crane delegation at court, hence Nagori’s conscription of him in this instance. All things considered, it seemed to have gone quite well. Okirou had even sent a poem with the report, celebrating the defeat of their enemies at the village. It really was quite good, in Nagori’s estimation.

Nagori rolled the scroll back up carefully, tucking the attached poem into his obi, and handed it back to the man who walked beside him. “What of the rest?”

Doji Kato inclined his head respectfully. “The ronin Kirimi hired on our behalf assisted with the breakdown and transport of the Mikado from the village long before Toi Koku was assailed by the Yobanjin infiltrators,” he revealed. “The owner is extremely grateful for our assistance in preserving the establishment. He has agreed to a three month engagement in the Doji provinces prior to the onset of winter in the fall.” Kato smiled slightly. “I am certain it will prove quite profitable for them, and of course a portion is always provided to the hosts as well.”

“The real benefit will be the dining pleasure of our guests,” Nagori corrected. “Many of whom are more pliable after enjoying fine cuisine, I think.” He walked in silence for a moment. “Has there been any further discussion from the court regarding the announcement?”

Kato frowned. “More than can be summarized,” he acknowledged. “The Empress’ revelation that she was considering returning to the Imperial City has created a rather unpleasant environment. Many wish to convince her otherwise, most vocal among them the Scorpion, but none dare contradict her or suggest she might be mistaken. It is a delicate balancing act.”

“Are the Lion still supporting the idea?”

“With great vigor and relish,” Kato said with a smirk. “They long to protect the Imperial City from another invasion, I think. Particularly since the chance of treachery is so low this time.”

“No Lion has ever failed to expect treachery,” Nagori corrected. “Well, it seems there is little we can do. Simply observe and exploit advantages when they appear. Whatever the Empress chooses, she will not choose it as a result of our support or the lack thereof.”

“As you wish, my lord,” Kato said. He hesitated briefly. “Have you considered my proposal, my lord?”

Nagori sighed. “I can but agree that the Chancellor is a constant danger to our long-term plans with regard to the Imperial Court. I am not yet convinced that forging a closer alliance with the Imperial Advisor is a good idea, however.”

“He bears no love for the Chancellor, that much is obvious,” Kato said. “The enemy of my enemy, and all that.”

“We know too little about Susumu,” Nagori said. “Until we know more, I cannot sanction your plan, Kato-san. If you wish to move ahead, you must bring me something of substance.”

The subordinate’s eyes gleamed. “You shall have it, my lord.”

* * *

            Tungba stood slightly behind an outcropping of rock for several minutes, struggling in vain to summon his courage and dispel his fear. It was a futile struggle, and eventually he accepted that he must abandon the attempt altogether. He bore a report that would not be well received by his master, or at least the man who served as his master in the absence of the Burning One. And those who bore disappointment to his master frequently did not survive the experience. Finally, he sighed and put on a brave face. He would not disgrace his family and tribe, what little remained of it, by dying a coward.

            The central area of the temporary camp was little more than a circle of stones that one of the shamans had summoned to suit the tastes of their commander. He was a ritualistic man, it was said, but Tungba could not say for certain; he had met the man only once before he had become the Son of Fire, and he knew very little of him before that time. He could but assume the others who claimed the man had changed in ways that could not fully be explained were telling the truth.

            The man who led the Army of Fire stirred where he sat observing the bonfire in the circle’s center. “You have something for me?” he rumbled. Wisps of smoke accompanied his exhalation, and his eyes glowed ever so slightly in the dim light. As always, the stench of ash and brimstone was think in the air around him.

            “Forgive my intrusion, great Son of Fire,” Tungba said shakily. “I bear news from the village called Toi Koku.”

            “Hmph,” the giant of a man snorted. He was larger than any man could ever become and still be a natural product of the mortal world. He had been a full foot shorter when Tungba had met him prior to his transformation. “The supplies?”

            “Lost, great Son,” Tungba admitted. “There was a… a trap.”

            “A trap,” he repeated. “What sort?”

            Tungba licked his lips nervously. “Fire, my lord. They burned the village and the mountains around them, killing all of the men sent to retrieve the supplies.”

            To Tungba’s surprise, the Son of Fire laughed. It was hardly comforting, however, as when the man laughed there was a slight light visible in his mouth, as if a fire burned at the back of his throat. “Fire!” the commander laughed again. “How unworthy those slugs must have been to have succumbed to such a fate.”

            “Unworthy, great one, yes,” Tungba agreed cautiously. “The… the chieftains under your command informed me that without those supplies, the army cannot continue its campaign for more than a few days. Perhaps a week at most. Great one.”

            “A week,” the Son of Fire rumbled. “This war will be at an end within that time. Toi Koku is nothing.”

            Tungba could not keep the surprise from his voice. “Great one?”

            “Ready the troops. Send our runners to the distant patrols. Have the shamans summon our outermost forces.” The man rose to his full, terrifying height. “The Burning One has spoken to me. It is time to cut the wicked heart from the rotten corpse of the Empire.”

* * *

Ikoma Otemi grimaced at the heat of the breeze that blew across the plains. It seemed that the Empire had gone from winter directly to summer, with little in the way of spring. But then war was like that; it distracted a man from what took place around him and filled his mind with death and violence. When the fog lifted, months could have passed. Seasons blurred together, and children became adults. It was an unfortunate by-product of the life of a Lion, but Otemi would have it no other way.

“Rikugunshokan,” one of his officers called to him as he exited the tent. “There is word, my lord! From the other detachments!”

“Report,” he said at once.

“Word has arrived from Lord Shigetoshi,” the officer began, consulting a number of scrolls. “His forces have joined with those of Hida Benjiro to secure the area surrounding Shiro Kitsuki. They report all known forces have withdrawn and appear to be heading east.”

Otemi nodded, frowning slightly. “Other reports?”

“Word arrived from the Shogun as well,” the officer continued. “His advance scouts indicate that the Yobanjin forces in the western mountains are likewise retreating to the east, taking a roundabout route to avoid the Lion and Crab forces. They move with such speed that even the Unicorn cannot keep up with them for long.”

The tactician’s frown grew more severe. “I find an unpleasant pattern emerging,” he remarked. “Is there anything further?”

“Reports from the Phoenix lands indicate a withdrawal of the Yobanjin, but no indication is given as to their bearing, my lord.”

“Obviously not east,” Otemi observed. “The sea and the Army of Fire would mix poorly, I believe. West, then.”

“There is a personal message from Lord Shigetoshi, commander, but it was accompanied by instructions to ask your assessment before presenting it to you.”

Otemi raised an eyebrow. “I believe the Army of Fire is massing in the Dragon Heart Plain for one final assault. Southward, toward the Imperial City.”

The officer bowed and presented the scroll, which Otemi opened at one.

Otemi-san,

You have doubtless received the same intelligence that I have. I have arrived at the conclusion that our foes are preparing for one final attack, as we have finally depleted their numbers to such an extent that further random assaults throughout the Empire will serve their purposes not at all. You have, of course, already determined this for yourself, and now your men, having had this reinforced, shall remain eternally grateful to have lived and served with a tactician of such brilliance as yourself. Likewise the Crab accompanying you have been demonstratively shown that you and you alone are fit to lead your half of our coalition forces. I know that it is a great comfort to me to have a man of your caliber to depend upon during this time of glorious war.

Marshal your forces, brother, and meet me on the Dragon Heart Plain.

 Akodo Shigetoshi

            Otemi could not help but smile slightly as he rolled up the scroll. Even in the midst of war, the Lion Champion never failed to exploit tactical advantages in the political and social realm as well as that of battle. If he himself had possessed only a fraction of Shigetoshi-sama’s political acumen during his reign as Champion, Otemi reflected, then perhaps he would have fewer regrets. He realized his subordinate stood awaiting his attention, one final scroll held in hand. “Something further?”

            “In addition to advance scouts from the Shogun’s forces, one of the Imperial Legions has arrived on the orders of the Emerald Champion.”

            The smile disappeared at once, replaced by a grimace. “Is the Champion in command?”

            “He is not, but the commander is a Scorpion just the same. Shosuro Naname of the Sixth Legion. He presents orders from his lord Jimen to join your forces and serve in whatever capacity you determine appropriate, commander.”

            “Oh,” Otemi took the scroll, surprised. His wife, a former Scorpion herself, had cautioned him strongly to be exceptionally careful in any and all dealings with Shosuro Jimen, even in the midst of a war. He was, in her estimation, one of the most dangerous men alive. Otemi had little confirmation of that assessment, but had never had cause to doubt his wife before, and would not begin now. “Prepare the men to break camp at once. Ask Hida Hikita and Shosuro Naname to meet me in my tent at their earliest convenience.” He paused for a moment. “Regardless of their convenience, however, I intend this army to be moving within two hours’ time at the outmost, is that clear?”

            “Your will, commander,” the officer said with a deep bow.

* * *

            The main garden of Kyuden Bayushi was virtually empty, something that was unheard of during the middle of the day. Yet there were no servants about, no courtiers strolling through the majestic topiaries, no old men sitting and playing go at any of the tables. It was empty and nearly silent, and the combination of the two created an eerily uncomfortable environment.

            Doji Nagori hurried through the rows, seeking the garden’s center. He glanced over his shoulder only once, managing to resist the impulse the rest of the time. He chided himself for instigating this meeting, but it seemed a necessity given the circumstances. The unanimous agreement of the other head delegates, at least, seemed to lend credence to that idea. Still, the secrecy of it pricked his conscience, and Nagori knew enough of the Tao that such a sensation could indicate his path was not just. He would simply have to pray for forgiveness later.

            Nagori came to the opening in the center of the garden, where a number of others awaited him. Representatives from each of the Great Clans were present, just as he had hoped. Time was short, and if waiting had proved necessary, all could have been undone. “My associates have initiated a number of impromptu contests,” he said quickly. “That should purchase us a few moments of privacy.”

            “Sentries will prevent entrance to the gardens for the next ten minutes,” Bayushi Paneki said quietly. “Any longer than that, and we risk discovery. What is it you wish to say, Nagori?”

            Nagori bowed to the Scorpion Champion. “I believe you have already guessed, Lord Paneki,” he said. “The announcement that the Empress plans to return to the Imperial City is one that many of us expected, but I might say that none of us, save perhaps for our Lion brothers, would have wished for.”

            There was a general nod of agreement among the others. “I fear for her safety,” Ide Eien offered quietly. “The wolves are very nearly at the gates.”

            “They will not have her,” Kitsu Kiyoko said sternly. “The Lion will not allow it.”

            “No one questions your resolve,” Nagori said, “but I feel that it would be in the best interests of the Empire if we might have some plan to ensure her protection as she leaves this place. The murder of a Divine Empress would be a blow from which the Empire might never recover.”

            “Agreed,” Yoritomo Sachina said. “Yet we cannot attempt to convince her to remain.”

            “What, then, is the simplest manner of ensuring her safety?” Nagori asked of the assembled delegates.

            “Victory,” Kiyoko said at once. “The death of her enemies.”

            “That is hardly a reasonable response,” Paneki said, his tone a shade reproving. “If it was so simple a matter, would the war not be long over?”

            “Nevertheless, it is the most suitable response,” Kiyoko insisted, meeting the Scorpion’s gaze without wavering.

            Someone cleared his throat softly, and Nagori turned toward the sound. “Do you have a suggestion, friend Crab?”

            “I do,” Yasuki Jinn-Kuen said. “I fear, however, that some among you may not find it palatable.”

TO BE CONCLUDED

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Military: Brian Fox (Crane)

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The Trap is Sprung! [Strategy]

0 Gold

Battle: If a Recon action has targeted the current battlefield’s province this turn, target your unbowed Scout Personality: Bow a target enemy unit.

2 FV

Fight them with our full force [Strategy]

0 Gold

Battle: If you control three or more units at the current battlefield, target your unbowed Personality: Move a target enemy Personality home.

If he is dishonorable, his controller loses 2 Honor.

2 FV

We believe they were driven out of forests in the north by the Army of Dark Fire’s advance, but whatever the reason, our offices are crawling in them. We’ve tried to get them under control, but we are aware that some have infested our shipping area. If your orders from our online store should be infested with any of them, we greatly apologize.

We have contacted the Imperial Pest Control Service, though we were told that it may be a matter of months before they can get around to us. And here we thought we were pretty important to Rokugan. Sheesh.

The Widening Circle

By Nancy Sauer

Edited by Fred Wan

Years ago, north of the Empire

Master Saleh folded his arms within his robes and tried to convince himself that this made him warmer.  He was no stranger to cold, having hunted in the desert in the days of his youth, but these hills held a cold worse than he had ever known: it was clammy and wet, and it wormed its fingers into his clothes and flesh and clenched at the bones beneath. 

         “We should not have come here,” he announced.  “This land is clearly accursed.  It will be the death of us.” 

         Fatina looked up from the animal skull she was examining.  “The land we left behind is now accursed, and would have been death of us had we stayed.  Besides, it cannot be so bad, the Monkey Man came this way.”

         Master Saleh almost countered that the Monkey Man was insane, but he remembered who he was speaking to.   Fatina’s mind wandered in and out of sanity like a cat that couldn’t decide which side of the door it liked better.  “The Monkey Man’s plan is ill-thought,” he said instead.  “What did he think he could find here?”

         “He will find what we need to fight her,” Fatina said. 

         “And how does he know this?”

         “I told him,” Fatina said simply, and went back to studying the skull.

         Master Saleh blinked at this.  “You?”  Fatina was no scholar, and he wasn’t even sure she knew how to read.  The idea that she knew something he didn’t was appalling.  “What did you tell him?  Why didn’t you tell me?”

         Fatina shrugged slightly, running a finger along the curve of an empty jaw.  “The fewer people who knew where he was going the better.  The Destroying One came from here; to let slip our interest in the stories would have been a disaster.”

         Patience, Master Saleh reminded himself.  The only sure method of getting information out of Fatina was patience.  “What stories?”

         “The stories,” Fatina said.  “They tell them in the marketplace, and in the servants’ quarter, and down in the mines when the slaves stop for water and to beg the gods to keep the roof from falling in.  The poison folk brought them first, in my great-grandmother’s time, and when the odd one came his servants brought more.”

         “Stories from this land,” Master Saleh said after untangling her words.  “What good are they to us?”

         “Stories are the bones of the world,” Fatina said.  “When the scavengers tear away the flesh and devour the sinews it is the bone that remains to tell us what has happened.” She bent down and breathed on the skull, and it shrieked in reply.  “The Destroying One, our enemy, the one whose name is bitter in the mouth like myrrh, like alum, like ashes–that one has power like unto a god’s.”  

         She looked up out into the valley spread out before them.  “And in this land, they breed killers of gods.”

 * * * * *

Months ago, in the heart of the Shinomen Mori

“I came as soon as I received your summons, my lord,” Konetsu said.  His bow was deep and graceful, but it lacked something of his normal elegance.  The change did not escape Daigotsu’s notice.

         “You are always prompt,” the Dark Lord said.  “You have gone over Sekawa’s letter?”

         “Yes, my lord,” Konetsu said.  “I believe I have determined its meaning.”

         “But not completely,” Daigotsu said.

         To his credit, Konetsu was not flustered by the statement.  “No, Daigotsu-sama,” he said.  “I regret not.  Not yet.”

         “How can this be?”  Chuda Mishime said.  “You were a Crane, he was a Crane.  Weren’t  you trained in their cadence?”

         Konetsu gave him a condescending look.  “And what do you know of cadence?”

         “Nothing,” Daigotsu said, recapturing both men’s attention.  “And I would like to hear what you have learned.”

         “Of course, my lord,” Konetsu said.  “The letter is addressed to Asahina Keitaro, but the real recipients were to be the four other Keepers–Sekawa meant for Keitaro to extract the real meaning from his message, and pass it on to them.  The message itself deals with the Shadowlands and the nature of its relationship with its avatar.”

         “And what did he have to say about this?” Daigotsu asked.  His eyes had narrowed behind his mask, but he allowed himself no other reaction.

         “I do not know, my lord,” Konetsu said.  ”Yet.  Sekawa and Keitaro worked closely for a number of years, long enough to develop a variant of cadence that was peculiar to them alone.  But they were both Asahina, both shugenja–with time I am sure I can unravel more of the letter’s meaning.”

         “Time better spent doing something else,” Mishime said.  “What could he know about the Shadowlands that Daigotsu-sama does not?”

         “We cannot know until the letter is deciphered.  But Sekawa was the Jade Champion and the Keeper of Five–and if Rekai is correct, he took a large store of scrolls from the Tomb.  There is no saying what insights he is capable of.”

         “The Keeper of Five,” Mishime scoffed.  “The ‘enlightened’ Jade Champion.  I had my vassals keep careful watch on what he did and said–he was no different than any other shugenja, babbling on about Shinsei’s teachings.”

         “If understanding the teachings of Shinsei–being enlightened, as you say–made you obviously wise, then Yogo Junzo would have had no troubles locating Shinsei’s heir,” Konetsu said.  “It would be a dreadful mistake to underestimate Asahina Sekawa.”

         “Silence,” Daigotsu said, before Mishime could reply.  “Konetsu, you are to continue your investigations.  Mishime, you will give him whatever aid he requires of you.”

         “Your will, my lord,” Konetsu said.  He made no attempt to hide his pleasure.

         “Without question, Daigotsu-sama,” Mishime said, his face showing nothing but obedience.

*     *      *      *     *

Weeks ago, in the Fingers of Bone

“This is unbelievable,” Hotako said.  “Daigotsu-sama, are you sure you are not mistaken?”

         “Do you question your lord?” Mishime said.

         “Absolutely,” Hotako said, “when it is in his best interest for me to do so.  This threatens every single one of our plans–I think it is important to make sure that we are not going on a tsu-fish chase.”

         “It cannot be correct,” Isawa Fosuta said.  “Such a thing would be as if–” he paused to think of something appropriate.

         “As if the sun and moon were cast down and replaced with dragons that no one has ever heard of,” Michio said.  Fosuta gave him a venomous look.  Hotako smiled slightly.  Michio ignored them both, his attention on Daigotsu.

         “Exactly as if,” Daigotsu said quietly.  “And there is no doubt of its truth.”  His eyes flicked over his advisors.  “There is only one course of action open to us.”

         Mishime bolted to his feet.  “My lord, I beg for permission to be excused.  I must go at once and begin the search.  Every member of my family will abandon their present duties and turn to this.”

         “You are excused,” Daigotsu said.  “All of you are, save for Michio.”  When the others had departed he turned to the monk.  “You were not disturbed by my announcement.”

         Michio shrugged slightly.  “If you are strong, you will weather this crisis as you have so many others.  If you are weak, I will go and advance my enlightenment elsewhere.”

         Daigotsu smiled.  “I have many servants who lack the blessings of Taint.  But of them I trust only you, for there is no deception in you.”

         “Only me?” Michio said, curious.  “What of Susumu?  He has served you for months, under conditions of great peril.”

         “Susumu,” Daigotsu said.  “When I sent him to Seppun Hill I had no doubt of him.  He has shown considerable ingenuity by getting reports of the Empress’s court to me.  And yet there has been a slow shift of tone in those reports–a distancing of sorts.  It disturbs me.”

         “You think she has turned him.”  Michio’s tone made clear what he thought of that.

         “As you have noted, he is in great peril.  The distancing could be nothing more than a ruse of his, another layer of deception to throw his Bayushi hosts off the scent.”  Daigotsu paused.  “But she is the Daughter of Heaven, and he has lived these months under her eye, in her presence.  I have not lived this long by underestimating my enemies.”

         “Your orders, my lord?”

         “Wait.  And watch.”

*     *     *     *     *

         “You do not seem concerned by the task we have been given,” Fosuta said.

         Hotako looked sideways at him while they walked down the corridor.  “Should I be?”

         “It is a difficult thing he has asked of us.”

         “Not so,” Hotako said.  “At a certain point he may call upon me to kill Shosuro Jimen, a man with all the resources of the Emerald Champion and, one guesses, most of the Scorpion Clan at his disposal.   That will be difficult–this is merely tedious.”

         Fosuta smiled at her.  “And you will brave the tedium to complete the task, for that is your lord’s desire.”

         “Of course,” Hotako said.  “Why else?”

         “Why else indeed,” Fosuta said.  He excused himself and turned down another corridor.  “Why else, indeed,” he murmured to himself.

*     *     *     *     *

Days ago, in the Fingers of Bone

The scroll’s paper had already seen one life as scratch paper: the outer side was filled with hurried sketches, notes on metal content of various alloys, and a few brown smudges that Daigotsu quickly identified as blood.  When he unrolled it he was not surprised to find that the other side contained several dirt smudges and a note written in calligraphy of the highest quality.  When it came to matters of craftsmanship, Yajinden was utterly predictable.

My Lord,

I am taking time away from my work to write this to you; I am sure that you will appreciate the degree of loyalty this implies.  The woman bearing this letter, Asako Kinuye, is a monk of great learning and a tsukai of great power.  Her tendency to flout seasonal conventions when designing gardens is more arty than artistic, but that should not affect her usefulness to you. 

Yours in service,

Daigotsu Yajinden

         Daigotsu rolled the scroll back up.  “Yajinden thinks quite highly of you,” he said.

         “I am gratified to hear that,” Kinuye said.  “He is not the type of person who suffers fools gladly.”

         “Indeed.  I am sure you had a reason for seeking an audience with me, and so I ask: why?”

         “This requires some explanation,” Kinuye said.  “You are familiar with divination?”

         “Its basic principles,” Daigotsu said.  “I have found little use for it myself.”

         Kinuye nodded.  “Divination is fundamentally flawed.  The omens are always truthful, but the diviner can completely miss their significance.  Any fool with a handful of yarrow stalks could have foreseen Yakamo’s fall, but no one in all of Rokugan foretold it.  It was too unimaginable.  I use divination only in my garden, to decide when to prune the lilacs and if crossing this plant with the other will produce the flower color I desire.”

         “I don’t think you have come to discuss gardening with me.”

         “Correct,” Kinuye said.  “Over the past months I have been noticing peculiarities in my divinations.  I disregarded them at first, but over time I have noticed patterns.  They make no sense to me, but the symbols I see repeat themselves again and again.”  She gazed into the middle distance for a moment, and then met Daigotsu’s eyes.  “I have begun to wonder if I am not a fool with a handful of yarrow stalks.”

         Daigotsu was silent for a moment.  Yajinden had carefully avoided mentioning if Kinuye was trustworthy, but that, like her taste in gardens, did not render her useless.  If she was capable of discovering even the broad outlines of what was going on, then she would be worth all the effort it took to protect himself from her.

         “I imagine your departure from the Phoenix limits your ability to do research,” he said.  “If you were to agree to share the results of your studies, I could aid you in this.  The Chuda have a number of talented diviners, though I doubt that any of them are familiar with lilacs.”

         Kinuye smiled and bowed slightly.  “That should not be a problem, Daigotsu-sama.”

*     *     *     *     *

Now, somewhere in the Empire

Long after the other man had fallen asleep, Chuda Genkei remained where he was sitting, staring at him.  Long matted hair and sallow skin pulled too-tight over high cheekbones; presence that hit like a tetsubo and a mind that danced along pathways Genkei could barely follow.

         He wanted to scream.  He wanted to dance.  He wanted to cry.  He wanted to kill everyone in this ratty little village.

         The last, at least, would happen, but not just yet.  They would require the shack they were presently in for a little while longer, and while that was true the village would remain.  Genkei licked his lips, thinking of what they would do when they left.

         Quietly he rose to his feet and made his way to the door.  Easing it aside slowly he slipped into the shack’s common room.  Daigotsu Minoko looked up as he entered, her face showing nothing but the duelist’s habitual calm.  Genkei walked over to her.

         “We must send word to Daigotsu,” he said.  “We have found him.”

 Discuss these events in our Story Forum!

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Jon Hall here.

Just wanted to announce that Celestial Launch Events should officially be run between June 29th and July 12th. Results should be received by AEG on or before July 15th. This announcement supercedes any previous information.

We are also proud to announce that the Imperial Gift 2: Learn to Play sets will be available at your local Stronghold Store by August 1. We believe that you, the players, will use this gift to teach someone new all about your favorite CCG!

We have a lot in store for the world of L5R in the coming months and we hope you get a taste of that with your Celestial Launch event and the exciting, all new (and FREE!) Imperial Gift 2 cards. With the Kotei season wrapping up, be on the look out- the Heavens may be calm now, but who knows what tomorrow will bring…

On a side note, keep those cards coming to the office! I have enough that I am going to begin the process of covering my door- but I need more!

In these times, with the storm on the horizon- Together we are stronger!

Jon Hall
Alderac Entertainment Group
L5R Brand Manager

The War of Dark Fire, Part 14

By Shawn Carman

Edited by Fred Wan

            “Kyuden Asako was the sight of my first visit to the Imperial Court,” Yoritomo Yoyonagi recalled before the court. “I remember being struck with the beauty of the art there, the serenity of the gardens. It was unlike anything I had experienced at the time. I would like to say that it made a lasting change in my nature simply from attending,” she smiled wryly, “but I suppose anyone familiar with me would be able to say that such a thing was not true.” She paused for a moment at polite laughter. “Still, I will never forget the experience, and there are few courts anywhere in the Empire that I would place higher in my esteem than that of Morning Glory Castle.” She smiled again and bowed before the Scorpion delegation. “Present company excluded, of course.”

            News that the Phoenix military strategists estimated the Yobanjin army’s next significant target might be Kyuden Asako had had a profound impact upon the assembled delegations of the Imperial Court when it was first announced earlier in the morning, and throughout the day, many had offered their recollections of the palace and its grandeur. To Ikoma Asa, it seemed as if many had already pictured the palace burning, lost forever to the Empire like so many other landmarks since the war had begun. In truth, she supposed, it was not an altogether unrealistic assumption, but it was not one she found particularly productive. The recollections of the assembled courtiers, however, had been especially inspiring, and already the young poet had made notes regarding several new works she wished to begin based upon the evocative descriptions others had made regarding the palace. Asa resolved to visit the place herself, should it survive the war.

            The Imperial Chancellor tapped the table lightly with his closed fan, signaling silence throughout the room. “I have been greatly moved by your tales of Kyuden Asako throughout the day,” he said, “and our honored brothers and sisters among the Phoenix Clan have my prayers and hopes that the majestic palace endures any attacks that might be levied against it by our most insidious enemies. Should the unthinkable happen, however, I would encourage everyone to remember the teachings of the Tao, which say that we must not forget the past, but that to set aside the trappings of it is to free our spirit for growth.” Here he bowed slightly to the Phoenix. “It is my greatest hope that Kyuden Asako remains intact, but should it fall, it will never be forgotten, and thus never truly be destroyed.”

            Murmurs of appreciation passed through the crowd, and inwardly Asa was impressed with the Chancellor’s acumen. She felt as if a burden had been lifted from the group, and she could sense the tension dissipating. Bayushi Hisoka was a Scorpion, of course, and so while Asa did not trust his motivations despite his high-ranking position, she could not deny the benefit of his words.

            “The Chancellor recalls well the teachings of the Tao,” another voice cut through the murmurs. “However, I wonder if he has ever had the opportunity to study the teachings of the prophet Fudo?”

            Hisoka turned a questioning glance to the Imperial Advisor, who stepped atop the dais and took his seat, to the left of where the Divine Empress always sat when she was in attendance at the court. “Fudo, you say?” Hisoka tilted his head slightly. “I am familiar with him, but only in broad strokes. I wonder if your attribution of the title prophet might be somewhat… inaccurate, however.”

            Susumu smiled. It was, as ever, a perfectly genuine expression that nevertheless left Asa feeling somewhat cold. “I am aware that the teachings of Fudo are somewhat controversial within the Brotherhood, and many refuse to acknowledge his teachings on account of the manner in which they question many long-standing tenets of the order, but I have personally always found them particularly empowering.”

            Hisoka seemed interested. It was similar, Asa imagined, to a predator that had caught the scent of its prey. She made a mental note to explore that metaphor in her work later. “Please enlighten us, Susumu-sama.”

            The Advisor’s smile did not waver. “One of Fudo’s teachings was that the memory of the past is a burden that weighs us, chaining us to our past and slowing our journey to our destiny. He suggested that rather than rely exclusively upon recollections of the past, trappings from those days might be kept at hand. Tokens, you might say. And with those tokens to serve as reminders, one could more easily focus on other matters, without the need to relive past experiences as the only reminders of joys already gone.” He shrugged slightly. “One might say that Fudo’s interpretation of this might be that Kyuden Asako’s destruction could lead to the Phoenix constantly struggling to recreate it, rather than embrace their future and move forward to newer and greater heights. On the other hand, should it survive, then they will be free to pursue their collective destiny without regret.”

            The Chancellor raised an eyebrow, and Asa wondered if he found the exchange amusing. He was far to inscrutable to determine his actual reaction, however, layered as it was beneath the various deceptions that Scorpion so tiresomely insisted upon. “Perhaps this Fudo bears more investigation,” he admitted. “I find the concept… interesting.”

            “Then it was my great pleasure to have given you food for thought,” Susumu said. “In the meantime I, like you, will offer the Phoenix my prayers and hope that the Shiba legions recalled to their homelands arrive in time to earn a glorious victory for the Empire.”

* * *

            The western facing of the castle had been given over to him to defend, as he had requested. The Phoenix would never be so coarse as to display it openly, but he could tell that they had been enormously relieved at the arrival of his legion to assist in the eastern theater of the war. The impending arrival of the enemy at the beautiful Kyuden Asako was a source of growing fear for them, and they required assurance that the palace would not fall before the Yobanjin.

            Akodo Setai had little assurance to offer them. He was a soldier, nothing more. He had been more surprised than anyone when his lord Shigetoshi had granted him a full legion to command and asked him to move northeast. Setai had attempted to decline, but his Champion would hear none of it. Privately he wondered if it was because of the ridiculous stories that men told about him. Embellishments, exaggerations, or outright fabrications, nearly all of them. He was no hero, no warrior of legend. He was simply a man who had been fortunate not to die despite the many opportunities he had been given to do exactly that.

            The battle was going as well as could be expected thus far. The Lion had held the line despite being outnumbered by a reasonable margin. Setai wondered idly if, assuming that the clan carried the day, there would be more ridiculous stories told about him. He feared that there would. The most galling thing about the stories is that presumably they were told to honor him, and yet one day they would destroy him. Setai knew that his day would come, and when it did, it would be his own failings that brought him low. Somewhere, deep within him, there was a flaw in his soul, a bright red ember that burned hotter than even the most powerful shugenja’s spells. When battle was upon him, it longed to break free, to overwhelm his senses and render him little more than a slavering beast of bloodshed. For some years he thought he had quieted it, when he served in the courts, but when Doji Seishiro had died, it had returned stronger than ever. Already today, it worked upon his mind, painting the faces of hated enemies over the Yobanjin. The assassin he had failed to stop in his youth. The Dragon who had claimed the life of his father. And the Unicorn that had killed Seishiro. He could never kill them enough times to quench the fire.

            “Prepare yourselves,” Setai shouted to his men. “They will press again, and soon. We will answer their attack with a countercharge, and break the front lines. Who stands with me?”

            “Akodo!” was the response.

            True enough, in only a moment’s time the Yobanjin line surged forward. Setai lifted his sword to signal the counterattack, but the signal never came.

            Between the two forces, a sudden eruption of black smoke marred the battlefield, bringing the superstitious enemy to a halt. A form emerged from the smoke, a young man adorned with strange tattoos on his flesh. The man smiled in Setai’s direction, and the former Deathseeker had to suppress the urge to shout that he was not what he seemed. Laughing, the man gestured toward the Yobanjin ranks, and Setai stared in mute horror as entire ranks of the Yobanjin force screamed and dropped to the ground twisting in agony as their bodies warped against their will and ultimately collapsed into broken, misshapen heaps. He felt his stomach churn at the horror of it, but he did not succumb to it.

            The sound of the madman’s laughter was even more horrible than the dying men’s screams. “Do you see?” he said, fixing his inhuman gaze upon Setai. “Do you see what can be done if you embrace the power waiting for you? I know you, I know what you can do. Join me. Stand by my side and together we will obliterate this rabble once and for all. The names of Isawa Fosuta and Akodo Setai will be on the lips of an Empire, and beyond!”

            For the briefest possible moment, the ember of rage at his core flared brightly at the notion of destroying the Yobanjin utterly, and in that moment, Setai crushed it utterly, a feat he had believe impossible only a moment earlier. “No,” he answered.

            Fosuta’s laughter was replaced by a confused expression. “You will not join me? You will not defend your Empire by ending the lives of these… these animals?”

            “I will not join you,” Setai said. “I will never fall so low.”

            Confusion was replaced with anger. “You petulant, arrogant child!” he snarled. “There will come a day when you will beg for the darkness, because it will be all that can protect you and those you love from an end so nightmarish you can scarcely imagine it.” Then, suddenly, the anger was gone, and a cruel look of humor replaced it. “Actually, no, that will not happen, because you will be dead.” Fosuta waved his hand, and the sound of screams returned, but this time from Setai’s own ranks, as half his men doubled over and collapsed onto the ground, writhing in pain.

            Fosuta laughed again. “When this battle is spoken of, perhaps no one will speak the name Isawa Fosuta, but I promise you this: no one will speak of the victory of the Lion Clan either.” And with that he was gone in the same foul mist that he had appeared.

            Setai tightened his grip on the blade he carried, a weapon that had claimed the lives of innumerable foes over the years, and of one true friend. “Those of you who can stand, take up your weapons,” he called calmly to the Lion around him. “If we die today, we die in a manner that no one will ever forget.”

* * *

Months ago, outside Shiro Mirumoto…

Mirumoto Kei’s charge shattered the already-crumbling wall outside the castle and plunged full speed into the opening in the attacking force that the ise zumi had made. Togashi Matsuo could hear bellows in the distance, and could tell from the sound of it that Hogai was still alive. Little surprise there, seeing as Yobanjin flew through the air, twisted into blood-chilling shapes every few moments. Of Vedau, Matsuo was less sure; he could neither see nor heard the large monk, and although the thought of his defeat was so unthinkable as to be almost completely alien, the young monk could not deny the possibility did exist.

            Shortly after their exit from the castle, the three monks had separated into a three pronged attack designed for maximum disruption of the enemy formation. Matsuo had gone northwest, and his blast of icy from the frost dragon tattoo on his chest had taken a terrible toll on his enemies. Dozens of them had fallen, ensuring that he had created a large hole in the defenses that he could hear his Champion and her men exploiting even now. The blessings of the Dark Oracle of Fire were not inconsiderable, however, and many of those whom he had felled were rising, separating him from the main body of the Dragon force, driving him farther and farther away as he fought to maintain control of the situation. Many of those he battled did not rise, incapacitated by his precise and powerful strikes. Others did, however, and the benefit of numbers that they possessed was becoming more significant with each growing moment.

            A glancing blow from a metallic gauntlet stunned Matsuo, causing his vision to double. He continued fighting, his body operating on pure instinct, but he struggled to regain his clarity of thought before the waves of raiders washed over him and buried him alive only to kill him an instant later. Something seized his left arm. He brought his right over to shatter the bond, but then it was taken as well. He struggled to free himself but the ringing in his skull was too great.

            Would he finally understand the riddle of death?

            There was a sound of wet surprise on his right, and suddenly his arm was free. He quickly incapacitated the enemy to his left and freed himself, even as his vision finally returned.

            “Idiot monk!”

            Matsuo turned and saw a warrior clad in black and blue, his face obscured with a metal mask, kicking a dead Yobanjin from his blade. “Daidoji?” he said, still foggy from the blow to his head.

            “You hobble yourself by fighting without weapons! Do you think other warriors show such restraint?”

            “I am an ise zumi, above the tools of war,” Matsuo said. “I fight as I do that I might choose to spare life when I can. Death permanently impacts the universe around me, and to levy death casually is to imprint myself upon the world. How can I understand a world that I take too great a role in shaping?”

            “Fortunes,” the Daidoji swore. “Perhaps I should have let you die.”

            “Why did you not?”

            “I owe a debt of honor to the Mirumoto,” the Crane said, killing with every movement, nearly every word. “I could not stand by and watch you die, even if you deserved it.”

            “You do not understand the way of the universe.”

            “Don’t I?” the man seemed offended despite the absurdity of their circumstances. “You ise zumi wish to observe the world from afar, interacting with it only when and how you choose. You are not separate from us. You are not unique. You exist within the world and affect it with your every movement. Does your inaction not have as great a weight as your action? How many will these men kill if you spare their lives?”

            Matsuo shook his head and disabled another opponent with a nerve strike. Perhaps it was the blow to his head, but he was confused. Did the Crane have a point? Why could he not think clearly? Did his actions, or lack thereof, serve as great a barrier to enlightenment as he imagined. Suddenly he longed to speak to his master in the temple in the Crane lands, but of course that was impossible.

            The sounds of fighting were growing louder. The Dragon forces were close now, and the Crane would be safe. “Must… must think,” Matsuo said. “Need time.” He summoned the power of the centipede that encircled his legs, and suddenly he was gone.

            The Dragon’s ruthless punishment of the Yobanjin continued unabated.

* * *

            Death was here. Setai could smell it on the breeze, hidden beneath the stench of blood that was so thick. The blight the stranger had levied against his men had dramatically worsened the odds he faced on the battlefield, despite the similar curse that had been laid upon the Yobanjin at the same time. The numbers were simply impossible to overcome without some mitigating factor. Setai ground his teeth as he tore through two more enemies with his blade, and grimaced at the oncoming waves. Sooner or later one of them would wound him, and then they would fall upon him like a pack of ravenous dogs. It would be over, and after so many years of longing for death, Setai now found that he did not wish it. Not like this. He did not fear it, but within him had awakened a desire to live that he had not expected.

            At the very least, he reasoned, the castle would be well protected. The loss of Yobanjin on this facing had been dramatic, and even when the Lion were overrun, the Shiba would be able to defend the castle properly. In that respect, at least, victory would be achieved, and so it mattered little if the Lion died.

            The night was thick with smoke, as so often seemed to be the case when fighting the Yobanjin, and the dim light of a dozen fires seemed muted by the thickness of the air itself. Setai noticed a red light on the cliff overlooking the battle, and wondered idly if it might be one of the Phoenix priests preparing a ritual to aid in the battle. The light then leapt into the air and began descending toward the fight, and as Setai felt steel biting into his left arm, he wondered if this was what all men saw when they prepared to die, when their ancestors came for them to usher them into the next life.

            The red light descended through the air and struck the ground behind the Yobanjin front line. There was an explosion, of sorts, although there was no flame. Dozens of the enemy were thrown high into the air, and Setai felt the wind on his face even as he ran through the man who had cut his arm. He did not know for certain what flavor of madness this was, but he would not lose the opportunity.

            The impact drove away the smoke, and amid the fallen raiders stood a single man, bare from the chest up, a tattoo on his torso blazing like a beacon in the cover of darkness. “Hello,” he said. “I am Togashi Matsuo. May I join your men?”

            “If it suits you I have no objection,” Setai shouted, assisting one of his men to his feet. “What are you doing here?”

            “I have been observing these Yobanjin,” Matsuo said. “I experienced something of a… call it a crisis of faith during the battle for Shiro Mirumoto. I have been seeking understanding ever since.”

            “Well I hope you found it,” Setai said, gesturing toward the regrouping raiders. “Your attack only distracted them. They come again.”

            “Persistence is a virtue,” the tattooed monk said. “It is not always rewarded, however.”

            “Not so, in my experience,” Setai snarled. “For Kyuden Asako!”

* * *

            Doji Seihime paced the halls anxiously. She avoided the court chambers carefully, as she was not in the mood to hear the endless inquiries as to how her play was coming along. How the general delegates ever heard that she was working on a play to honor the Mirumoto family in the first place she did not know, but it had gotten to the point where she avoided the general sessions unless absolutely necessary. Under different circumstances, she might enjoy the attention, but at the moment, she was very close to being finished and she did not wish to discuss it. She was unwilling primarily because she had reached an impasse in her writing, and it was infuriating. She had made little progress for days now, and the thought of discussing a work with which she was having such difficulty was too great to bear.

            Seihime rounded a corner and stopped, surprised to see a small child playing in the corridor. It was a little girl, lovely as a work of art herself, but it was strange for her to be here, so far from the court. “Hello, little one,” Seihime said.

            The little girl looked up at her and beamed. “Hello!”

            “What are you doing here?”

            “My mother is preparing a new set of chambers for one of the important samurai visitors,” the girl said cheerily. “She said I would not be in the way here.”

            “I see,” Seihime said. The child of a servant, then. She was too young to know not to speak to samurai, particularly when Seihime had spoken to her first. It was a victimless offense, and one she would not mention. “Be careful, then, little one.”

            “Are you the lady telling the story?”

            Seihime had turned to leave, but looked back over her shoulder. “What?”

            “Mother says that there is a beautiful lady working on a new story,” the girl said. “I was so excited to hear it! I love new stories. You are beautiful. Are you the lady?”

            Seihime could not help but smile. She was certainly not plain-looking, but compared to many of her fellow Crane, she had never been called beautiful. “I am working on a story, yes.”

            “Oh!” the girl said. “Is it ready yet?”

            “No,” Seihime said, frowning. “I… am having trouble with the ending.”

            “Oh no! What is wrong?”

            Seihime sighed. That she was having this conversation at all was ridiculous. “The ending is… predictable. I need something to catch the attention of the people reading the story. Something to give it more weight.”

            “Is there a villain?” the little girl asked.

            “Yes,” Seihime answered.

            “You should make him have a helper that everyone thinks is a hero,” the girl said, playing with her doll. “My papa likes stories, and he says it is always better when there is a surprise villain at the end.”

            Seihime thought for a moment. The valor of the Mirumoto was a grand tale, but it needed something to distinguish the family. Perhaps a traitor from elsewhere within the clan? Someone who aided the Dark Oracle, placing the Mirumoto at a disadvantage, but giving their victory even more meaning. Yes, yes that just might be what the story needed. “Thank you, little one,” Seihime said. “What is your name?”

            “Oki!” the little girl beamed.

            “Thank you, Oki,” Seihime said. “I have to go finish the story now.”

Discuss the events of this fiction in our Story Forum!

 http://www.alderac.com/forum/viewtopic.php?f=63&t=76503

Irvine Kotei Winners

Military: Case Kiyonaga (Lion)

Political: Stephanie Dane (Spider)

St. Louis Kotei Winners

Military: Nathan Hendrick (Shadowlands)

Political: Violet Strickland (Scorpion)

Toulousoe Kotei Winners

Military: Thomas Pecqueur (Crane)

Political: Julien Harquet (Shadowlands)

Kyuden Asako (Irvine)

The Supply Lines [Region]

Singular

Battle: If any enemy units are at the current battlefield, which must be this province’s battlefield unless you are a Lion Clan player, bow this card and target a Personality in your home: Move him there. Straighten his unit if he moved into a defending army.

Kyuden Asako (St. Louis)

Destroy the Supply Lines [Strategy]

0 Gold

Battle/Open: Destroy a target Terrain or Region. Lose 2 Honor.

Battle: If any enemy units are at the current battlefield, target your Personality: Move him there. Straighten his unit if he moved. You scorch the earth behind him. No other units may move to or from the battlefield he moved to this turn. Lose 2 Honor.

2 FV

Shiro Mirumoto (Toulouse)

Daidoji Toulouse

4/3

2/7/2

Crane Clan • Samurai • Hero  • Scout • Iron Crane

Battle: Ranged 3 Attack, or Ranged 4 Attack if XXX is defending

Scorpion

Primary Themes

Magistrates

The Scorpion Magistrates are the masters of punishing the dishonored individual. They will form the basis of a military dishonor strategy for Scorpion. Punishing the dishonored on the battlefield and through ongoing loss of honor. The deck will combine both loss of honor and military aggression as the knowledge and investigations of the Magistrates lead to the downfall of opposing generals before, during and after the battle.

The Scorpion Magistrate’s focus for victory will be either complete destruction of their enemies militarily, or complete destruction of their enemies politically. Either is fine to a Scorpion.

Ninjas

Ninjas are the intelligence gathering, espionage and assassination arm of the Scorpion Clan. Trained in the art of subterfuge and stealth from very early in their lives they strike at opponents on and off the battlefield. Many a worthy opponent has been rendered weak , ill or worse before ever reaching battle. In many ways the ninja are the equivalent of scouts, except rather than relying on knowledge of the ground, they rely on prior knowledge (and often interference) with the enemy leaders. The ninjas are characterized through use of poison and access to hidden information – often times knowing more about the other player’s deck than he does!

The Ninjas primary focus for victory will be militarily by poisoning their enemy. And their enemy’s families. And their enemy’s friends. And their enemy’s friend’s families. And their enemy’s friend’s family’s…

Secondary Themes

Courtiers

Where the Scorpion Magistrates punish individuals for their deeds, the Scorpion Courtiers are ruthless in destroying an entire clans power base. Any fault, any opportunity, any weakness and the Scorpion will use it to reduce the status of another clan. Their main arena is the courts and the political stage. Where the Crane will often put you down in order to make themselves look better, the Scorpion focus entirely on making you look bad. And looking bad in the eyes of the Empire, the Court and the Emperor spells certain doom.

The Scorpion Courtier’s main focus for victory will be to shame their enemies into non-existance so that their clan’s name is stricken from Rokugani history and the mere mention of it is a criminal offense.

Kensai

The Scorpion Kensai are the swordsmen of the Bitter Lies Dojo. However, their techniques are very different to many other Kensai. Some say they rely on making the most of chance or luck. No one is quite sure of their technique. Like all things Scorpion it is shrouded in mystery and to get too close can only end one way. However they operate, the Scorpion Kensai are a lethal, determined and ruthless opponent and Bitter Lies Swordsmen can be devastating on the battlefield.

The Scorpion Kensai’s main focus for victory will be military. As time progresses, their ability to use their “luck” to their advantage will be explored in their mechanics.