Words & Deeds, Part III

By Shawn Carman
Edited by Fred Wan

The Imperial Palace in Toshi Ranbo
The chambers in which the Imperial Court was being held had been designed by the finest architects in the Empire. Since the new Imperial Palace had been constructed only a few short years ago, it also incorporated the most modern advances, including many things that families such as the Miya and Kaiu understood about acoustics. In this case, it allowed for the beautiful melodies produced by the artisan Kakita Noriko to drift throughout the chamber, allowing even those on the far side of the vast room to hear it perfectly.

Doji Chitose found the music quite pleasing, but it was making it difficult to keep her focus. She had only gotten a few hours of sleep the previous night, as her charge had remained in the garden well into the evening chatting to some potential paramour or something equally ludicrous. And of course this morning Chitose’s assignment was general duty supervising the Crane contingent in the court chambers. No one appreciated a yojimbo’s hardships, she had decided. Some months previous she had stopped a “ronin” assassin attempting to infiltrate Kyuden Doji, and her “reward” had been a promotion to the Imperial Court, protecting some of her clan’s most important and influential individuals. All things considered, she reflected, she liked Kyuden Doji better.

A shrill sound rang out through the chamber, and for a brief moment Chitose thought perhaps Noriko had made an error in her playing. That would have been completely unprecedented, but under the circumstances, possible. Noriko had had no time to prepare for her impromptu concert, but had been quietly asked to play when it became apparent that Otomo Hoketuhime, mistress of the Imperial Court, was detained and would be late to the chambers.

A servant burst into the chamber, her face a mask of confusion and shock. At first Chitose thought that the woman had been wounded, so pale was her face. The Crane yojimbo had her blade half drawn before she realized that there were no wounds to be seen anywhere on the woman’s body. She glanced quickly to make certain she was between the servant and her charges, then stepped forward. “What is it, girl?” she hissed. “What has happened?”

“The Lady Otomo!” the woman nearly shrieked. “She has… she has been murdered!”

The music stopped at once, and there was an explosion of outbursts throughout the chamber. A number of people began shouting almost immediately. Chitose recognized the early signs of a panic, as well as the gleam of ambition in the eyes of those who recognized opportunity. She drew back to hover protectively near the gathered Crane courtiers, and waited to see what would happen.

She did not have to wait long. A wrinkled little man, surely older by far even than Chitose’s grandfather, approached the dais at the front of the room and rapped his walking stick sharply against the floor. Its report was louder than it should have been, and the yojimbo remembered that the little man was a shugenja. “Be at east, my friends,” the priest said, his force both calm and full of authority. “I must humbly request that no one leave this chamber. I will summon the magistrates.”

“Kiharu-sama,” one of the Dragon called out. “Will you summon Seppun Tashime?”

“No,” the Seppun daimyo replied. “Regrettably Tashime-sama is currently stationed within the Yasuki lands. However, Seppun Katsura, head sensei of the Seppun Magistrates’ dojo, is in the city, and will doubtless come at once.” The priest bowed. “In the meantime, again, please calm yourselves, and remain where you are. The matter will, I am sure, be resolved shortly.”

Chitose found the priest’s calm both comforting and strangely disconcerting.

It was more than two hours before the magistrate and his attendants entered the chamber. Chitose had seen Seppun Katsura once before, and he was as intimidating now as he had ever been. The man seemed to exude an aura of distaste and irritation that drove others away from him and, if tales were to be believed, made it almost impossible for the guilty to conceal their sins from him.

Katsura stood on the dais. “Otomo Hoketuhime is dead,” he said plainly. “She was murdered in her own chambers, presumably some time late last night. Regrettably, her she had dispatched her yojimbo to Kyuden Otomo to escort her niece to the capital city in preparation for her impending marriage. While Todori-san was away, Lady Otomo’s throat was slit by an assassin’s knife.”

Many in the chamber blanched at the visceral description, and Chitose saw that Katsura took careful note of who reacted to the news in what manner. “The killer left something behind, however,” the magistrate continued. “Something that I believe may assist us in identifying the assassin.” Here Katsura nodded to one of his attendants, who held aloft something small, something that he gripped through a piece of cloth in order to prevent it from touching him. Chitose could not see exactly what it was from where she was standing, only that it was small and metal.

“The spoon!” one of the Mantis attendants blurted out.

“What?” Katsura demanded. “What was that? Speak!”

The Mantis attendant was one of the lesser assistants to Yoritomo Yoyonagi, who looked clearly irritated at her vassal’s breach of etiquette. “It… it is called a spoon,” the young man said. “It is sort of… a gaijin equivalent to chopsticks, perhaps? I saw it at Winter Court.”

“Which one?” Katsura demanded.

“Kyuden Bayushi,” the Mantis returned. “It… it was in the possession of a Dragon there.”

All eyes turned to the Dragon contingent. Easily the highest ranking among them, Kitsuki Iweko stepped forward. “I will speak to whatever questions you might have, magistrate.”

“I have no questions,” Katsura said. “I wish only for testimony confirming the location of every member of your delegation last night.”

Iweko frowned. “You do not wish to discuss the matters of evidence?”

Katsura frowned. “No, I certainly do not.”

One of the Crane behind Chitose scoffed. “So like a Kitsuki to worry about such pointless things,” he said.

“It will take some time to compile such a comprehensive list,” Iweko was saying to Katsura.

“Begin immediately,” he said. “Your word is unquestioned of course, but I fear I will have to detain many members of your delegation until their whereabouts can be corroborated.”

“I assure you that is not necessary,” Iweko said.

“I assure you that it is,” Katsura said flatly.

“My lord magistrate,” a Scorpion courtier interjected. “The Scorpion Clan will personally guarantee that al members of the Dragon contingent will remain within the city. They may stay as guests of the Scorpion if they so wish. Surely there is no need to detain them.”

“Your devotion to your allies is admirable,” the magistrate said, “and your interference in this matter is completely unwanted. Step aside.”

“My lord,” the Scorpion attempted to continue.

“Step aside,” Katsura said. “I despise repeating myself.” The magistrate was still scowling at the retreating Scorpion when a Seppun messenger stepped forward and handed him a small slip of paper. Katsura read it, and frowned. “I see,” he said to no one in particular. “Lady Iweko, begin compiling your list at once. Those of your entourage who cannot at this moment immediately corroborate their whereabouts with the testimony of another,” he paused and clenched his teeth, “may stay as guests of the Scorpion.”

“As you wish,” Iweko said, her tone morose.

“Thank you, my lord,” the Scorpion representative said.

“You may thank the Emerald Champion,” Katsura said. “He has been informed of what has happened by the Hidden Guard, and will arrive within two days’ time.”

Chitose was not altogether certain if the presence of Shosuro Jimen in such an environment was a good or bad thing.

* * *

The Naga ruins in the Shinomen Mori
Utaku Etsuko carefully scanned the forest for any signs of Crab forces. Even by her most optimistic estimation, the Crab should have reached the Unicorn encampment well before sunset the previous day, and now it was well past dawn. She did not dare to hope that Shinjo Isuke and his meager forces had been able to halt the Crab advance; they were far too outnumbered for any chance of success. Likewise, she found it highly unlikely that the young officer had been able to negotiate any sort of peaceable solution to the sudden, inexplicable attack by the Crab. If they had been interested in anything other than bloodshed, they would have never begun their ruthless dogging of the Unicorn forces in the first place.

Etsuko looked around at the well-fortified Naga outpost the Unicorn had co-opted for their own use. It was definsible from all directions, and although it was small, in this particular instance it held nearly two hundred Unicorn troops. If the Crab attempted to take it, no matter from what direction they approached, they simply would not have the manpower necessary to breach its defenses. That line of thinking caused Etsuko to worry briefly if the inexplicable delay might be caused by the Crab constructing some sort of siege engine from the forest materials around them, but that thought soon died when she saw a lone Crab scout approaching.

The man approached in the open, alone. He made no attempt to conceal himself, and while he bore a daisho on his hip, he carried no other weapons and did not seem to have any immediate malice. The tactic caused Etsuko’s instincts to scream inwardly. If he was a Lion, then she might believe that he was approaching to demand the outpost’s surrender, a tactic they used against dishonorable opponents, which they almost universally considered the Unicorn at this point. The Crab were more pragmatic than that, however, and she feared that he was a distraction, a means of drawing attention away from whatever the true Crab offense might be. She gestured for her scouts to continue their monitoring of the forest, then turned her attention back to the Crab. “Approach no further,” she shouted. “Stand where you are.”

The Crab obligingly stopped and stood perfectly still. “I seek an audience with Utaku Etsuko,” he called out. “Barring that, I wish to speak with whatever ranking officer is in command of this outpost.”

“I am Utaku Etsuko,” she shouted down. “My commander is absent from the outpost. You will speak to me.”

“I already have,” the Crab said. “I am Toritaka Kaiketsu.”

Anger washed over the young gunso. “So you are the one who ordered your men to pursue a much smaller force? A patrol of samurai who were your allies, and who allowed you to conduct your so-called ‘investigation’ without malice or interference despite that you approached our borders without proper notification or travel papers?”

“There are things you do not know,” Kaiketsu said flatly. “And if I might remind you, these are not Unicorn lands.”

“They are lands under the protection of the Unicorn at the request of our allies, the Naga!” Etsuko replied. “Perhaps I am confusing you, however. Are you familiar with the meaning of the word ‘allies?’ Your actions suggest you might not be.”

Kaiketsu said nothing, but held up an arrow. He drew it back and threw it like one might throw a yari. It flew through the air uncertainly and impacted the stone wall some seven or eight feet below where Etsuko looked over the edge. She glanced down at where it fell to the ground with a smirk. “I think you need archery lessons as well.”

“Look at the arrow again,” Kaiketsu said.

Etsuko looked down in annoyance, then back up at the Crab, her mouth open to land another barb. She desperately wanted the Crab to attack so that she and her forces could kill them to a man. It was only fitting, considering that there was now no question whatsoever that Isuke and his men were dead. She looked back down, however, and frowned. “This is a Unicorn arrow,” she said slowly.

“Yes,” Kaiketsu said. “That one took the life of Hiruma Aikotu, a man with a family and a record of distinction in the Shadowlands.” He drew a bundle of arrows from where they hunt on his back, and held another aloft. “This one pierced the arm of Toritaka Kaito, my cousin. It is unlikely he will ever be able to draw a bow again. This one took the life…”

“Wait,” Etsuko said. “What are you talking about?”

“After you left the Spi… the abandoned compound in the forest where we spoke previously,” Kaiketsu said carefully, “archer fire struck my men. Several were killed. More were wounded.”

“What?” Etsuko shook her head. “Do not be ridiculous. My patrol is not an archery unit. There are horsebowmen stationed here for that purpose.”

Kaiketsu nodded. “I came to realize that possibility after the skirmish with your infantry yesterday afternoon.”

The anger came back quickly. “Where are gunso Isuke and his men?”

“With their ancestors,” Kaiketsu replied. “They were welcomed with open arms, no doubt, for they fought honorably and bravely. They were good men, fine soldiers.”

“Fine soldiers murdered for no reason!” Etsuko shouted.

“Men and women who died, unfortunately, because the Unicorn has clutched a serpent to its breast,” Kaiketsu said. “The Spider were responsible for this.”

“Enough,” Etsuko said, waving the comment away. “Would you have the Unicorn tolerate such slander of the Crab, were it said by others? Why do you expect we will allow it spoken of our other allies?”

“That does not matter,” Kaiketsu said. “I am ordering my men to withdraw to the Crab provinces. We know all that we need to know about the Spider and their presence here. I wish that it could be different, but apparently war has made the Unicorn desperate.” He bowed. “I will not see you again, Etsuko-san.”

As the Crab began to withdraw, Etsuko swore inwardly. “Wait,” she called out. She gestured to the courtyard below, and the gates to the outpost were opened. A single Unicorn scout rode out with a bundle, which was offered and accepted by Kaiketsu. “My scouts found this in the forest two days ago,” she said. “Make of it what you will.”

Kaiketsu unwrapped the bundle and frowned. “This is a Tsuruchi bow,” he said.

“Yes,” she answered.

Kaiketsu said nothing for a time, then nodded to Etsuko and disappeared back from where he had come. His expression remained troubled even as he vanished into the trees. Etsuko’s was as well.

* * *

Shiro Moto, the Unicorn provinces
The city around Shiro Moto was all but deserted. As the Lion had approached, growing ever closer on the horizon, the Unicorn had reluctantly given the order to evacuate. Many had been reluctant, not only to abandon their homes to possible destruction, but to leave behind the samurai masters who had always treated them so kindly. They were good servants, loyal subjects, and the Khan had forced them to leave so that they would not witness what was to come.

Moto Chagatai stood on the balcony of his private quarters in Shiro Moto, overlooking the death and destruction that spread out before the city like a rug. The stench of smoke was thick, even though very little in the city had been destroyed. A village on the horizon had been burning since the day before, however, and even now, when there could be nothing left to burn, it smoldered like a fire pit, filling the air with a gray haze.

Chagatai watched as two Lion legions surged forward from the army’s main body, shattering his exhausted forces’ front ranks and penetrating deep into the city. Following close behind was a third group, not quite as large as the first two. There were many standards flying from the third group, but the Khan did not need to see them to understand what they were.

Matsu Yoshino.

It seemed that the whelp of a Lion Champion was leading the charge to the castle himself, sending two of his legions forward to clear the way. It was a bold plan, a daring plan. The sort that Chagatai might himself employ. The sort that Yoshino had vowed to use almost exactly one year ago, that fateful day in Toshi Ranbo, after Chagatai’s forces had been thoroughly defeated by the Lion and Phoenix, despite the stealthy assistance from the Mantis Clan.

The shattering of Shiro Moto’s front gates was audible throughout the castle, even in Chagatai’s private quarters. He turned from the battle and passed through his chambers, into an audience chamber where dozens of his finest warriors awaited. “They are here,” he said flatly. “Kill any you find, but leave their leader for me. Clear a path to the boy.”

The men poured from the room like water from a basin. Within moments, Chagatai could hear the sound of battle down different corridors. His men were outnumbered, but they knew every passage and corner in the building. The disadvantage would be minimized. The smell of smoke reached Chagatai, but even this was not unexpected. Yoshino’s vow had been quite specific.

The Khan walked through the hallway, descending to the first floor to meet his prey. A lone Lion, a survivor of his men’s attack, leapt at him like the beast whose name his clan bore. A Deathseeker, perhaps, or one of the Matsu Elite Guard, who were as dangerous if not more so. Chagatai’s scimitar made quick work of the fool, and left him dying on the floor in one of the secondary court chambers on the ground floor.

It was in the grand welcoming chamber that Chagatai found what he sought.

Matsu Yoshino was flanked by five of his men, all heavily armed and armored. Chagatai noted that there were several of his own men scattered on the floor, apparently unable to defeat Yoshino’s highly trained personal guard. “Welcome, pup,” he said flatly.

The Lion turned to face the Khan. “I have come to avenge my father.” There was no fear or arrogance in his voice. It was a simple statement of fact.

“You are nothing but a boy,” Chagatai said. “A child who sits atop the shoulders of greater men and fancies himself a giant. Avenge your father? No, you have come to join him.”

Yoshino offered a slight smile. “Then the quality of my company will improve dramatically.”

Chagatai sneered at the taunt. “Do you want me to kill your guards?” he asked. “The exertion might lessen your disadvantage.”

Yoshino turned to his men. “You have your orders,” he said. “Carry them out.”

One of the men hesitated. “My lord,” he began.

“No,” Yoshino said firmly. “Go. Now.”

The Lion departed dutifully, and the two Champions were left alone. “I cannot imagine what you are thinking,” Chagatai said. “You are not half the man your father was, and he could not defeat me.”

“Perhaps you should broaden your definition of defeat,” Yoshino said. The young man moved like a cat, darting forward suddenly to launch a series of relentless attacks. The boy had speed, that much Chagatai could not deny, but he was as yet inexperienced, and this was not a situation that would lend itself to his education. The Khan turned his attacks away easily and then struck the boy across the face with the flat of his blade.

Yoshino stumbled across the floor but recovered instantly, a thin line of blood marring his face. “Do not play games with me!” he demanded. “I am here for your life! Face me like an equal!”

“I have no equal,” Chagatai said. “Leave here, boy. There is no shame in acknowledging your betters.”

“I made a vow.” Yoshino circled, looking for an opening.

“The shame of failure can be borne,” Chagatai said. “I know that better than any in the Empire.”

Yoshino attacked again, in the same pattern. Chagatai winced inwardly, privately embarrassed for the boy. To be so inept… the Khan could not remember such a time in his own life. The boy was not without surprises, apparently, for even as Chagatai stepped in to break his jaw with a crushing strike, Yoshino changed his posture. The attack was a feint, and instead he swept for Chagatai’s legs.

The Khan was not a lithe man, but many had made the mistake of underestimating him before. In that, Yoshino was not alone. He leapt over the sweep easily and smashed the boy’s face with his off-hand, bloodying his nose and forcing him back in a sitting position.

“Stop this playing!” Yoshino shouted, spitting blood. “Are you completely without honor? Face me! Use your steel!”

“You’d already be dead,” Chagatai said. “This is the last time I will ask you. Leave.”

“Never,” Yoshino said.

“Then on that, we agree,” Chagatai said. He shifted his grip on the scimitar. The smoke was becoming a problem, and the heat was increasing steadily. It was time this farce was over. “Come, boy. Let me send you to your father’s arms.”

The two men circled one another for a moment, each gauging the other’s stance and defenses, each ignoring the fire that was consuming the building around them. When a large portion of the upper floor fell and obstructed the primary exit, neither seemed to notice.

In the end it was Yoshino who attacked, as Chagatai knew he would. The young had no patience, and war was a man’s art. Chagatai stepped easily inside the Lion’s attack range and ran his scimitar deep into his enemy’s stomach. To his vast surprise, however, Yoshino made no attempt to protect himself. Indeed, he virtually threw himself along Chagatai’s blade, and brought his own up in the process. The Khan realized what the boy was doing, and tried to twist away, but Yoshino’s blade still bit deeply into Chagatai’s side, where it remained even as Yoshino’s hand fell away from the hilt.

Chagatai wrenched his blade free of the boy’s torso, grimacing at the terrible sound it made, then took a deep breath and pulled Yoshino’s blade from his side. The Khan ground his teeth against the unbelievable pain of it, but Yoshino said nothing. The boy’s eyes were still bright and clear, and Chagatai knew that he had felt the blade tear free. “Why did you do this, boy?” he snarled at the dying Lion. “Why throw your life away like this? You knew you could not defeat me. You had to know that.”

Impossibly, Yoshino laughed. “Throw my life away?” he rasped, his teeth stained red. “My line is cursed. My father fell in battle. My uncle took his own life to escape slavery to a madman. My aunt was taken into that same slavery against her will, and it corrupted her to the extent that she murdered my grandmother.” He coughed. It was a wet, terrible sound. “What horrors await me? What terrible things will happen to me and mine as I grow older? Better this, avenging my father’s honor, earning a glorious victory for the Lion, than to be a lingering sickness. This… this death… this is… a… mercy.”

The young man was gone.

Chagatai stared at the dead boy for a long time. The crackling of the fire all around him finally brought him back to his senses. Once again, he stood over the dead body of a Lion Champion in a war that his clan had lost. He looked down at the wound to his stomach, where blood had stained the right side of his kimono and much of his hakama. The wound was a grievous one, but not mortal. He had survived worse than this. He could still escape the castle. He could live, and fight again.

But what would that mean?

It would mean that the Lion would never stop hunting him. The death of a single Champion might be forgiven, as it had happened on the battlefield. The death of two at the hands of a man who still lived would never be forgotten, not by the Lion. They would push farther and farther into Unicorn territory hunting him. The entire clan would throw its every resource into it, and the Unicorn provinces would come to ruin in the process. Everything would be lost. All would suffer.

He would never know peace, and neither would his people.

Was his life so important?

From somewhere outside the castle, over the roaring flames, he heard the distant shout of “For the Khan!” that his soldiers so favored.

Moto Chagatai, Khan of the Unicorn Clan, took his blade out of his obi and sat it to his side as he knelt beside the fallen body of his foe. He grimaced in pain as a fresh gout of blood stained his kimono anew. He placed his hands on his knees and closed his eyes as the fire roared all around him.

The Unicorn would survive. The war would end, and they would rebuild. They would grow strong again. And one day, far in the future, his sons, or his grandsons, or his descendants, would rule from a steel throne as the Khans of an Empire.

“For the Unicorn,” the Khan said.

In the city streets surrounding the castle, the battle raged for what seemed like an eternity. The front lines clashed, broke, reformed, and clashed again in an apparently endless series of engagements all across the city. It was not until the first parapet of Shiro Moto collapsed that the forced halted, and warriors from both clans watched as the castle burned. There were long minutes of silence, when no one knew exactly what the fulfillment of the Lion Champion’s vow meant for the battle, or for the clans as a whole. Finally, a Lion warrior stepped to the front, his comrades parting to allow him passage.

Akodo Shigetoshi stood at the forefront of the Lion army and scanned the Unicorn front line. He no longer saw them as barbarians, as warriors unfit for service to a true samurai lord. “Shinjo Shono is dead,” he said, loud enough for his voice to carry. “Who stands in command of the Junghar in his absence?”

There was a stirring among the ranks, and for a moment it seemed that no one would step forward. Finally, one man did. He was adorned in make-up that might have been more appropriate for a kabuki actor than a warrior, but the berth his fellow Unicorn gave him suggested he was something altogether different. “I am Moto Hideyo, commander of the White Guard,” he said, his tone proud and unafraid. “None of the senior officers of the Junghar are present, if they indeed still live.”

“Do you speak for your clan?” Shigetoshi asked him.

The man seemed almost disgusted by the question. “Anything that needs be said to the Lion, I am more than enough to say it.” He held aloft a scrap of a bloodied but familiar standard. “I have slain your general Akodo Bakin. I would gladly add his kinsmen to my offering to the Lords of Death before the sun has set.”

Shigetoshi’s grip tightened on his blade. “Bakin,” he hissed. “He died well?”

“He was a warrior to the end,” Hideyo confirmed. “A far greater warrior than I have seen elsewhere among your ranks, though I am reluctant to so damn an honorable opponent with such faint praise.”

The Akodo daimyo’s eyes narrowed. “You presume much, ‘priest.’”

“Wait.” Another Unicorn warrior stepped out of the ranks. His armor was largely unremarkable, but he wore a mask, which was highly unusual among the Unicorn ranks. Hideyo looked at the man with annoyance, but when he removed his mask and kabuto, Hideyo bowed deeply without hesitation.

“Forgive me, sama. I did not know you were present.”

“It is alright, Hideyo,” the man said. To the Lion, he presented a quick, shallow bow. “I am Moto Chen,” he said, “former commander of the Junghar and present commander of the Shinomen Guard.”

“Ah,” Shigetoshi replied. “Our intelligence suggested you had departed for the Shinomen, Chen-san.”

“I did,” he confirmed. “Upon the completion of my duties there, I returned, albeit in secret.” He withdrew something from his obi and held it up to the Lion ranks. It was a chop of some sort. He turned and showed it to the Unicorn as well. Many, including Hideyo, bowed their heads upon seeing it. “This is the personal chop of Moto Chagatai,” Chen said. “He instructed me that if he… if he were to fall with the castle, that I should take the position of regent until such time as his sons were of age to take his place.”

Shigetoshi nodded and turned to the blazing ruin that had been Shiro Moto only a short time ago. “It seems we have both lost our lords this day, Chen-san.” He withdrew a scroll from his belt, a scroll with a broken seal. “Yoshino-sama left me instructions to assume the Championship in his place, should he fail to return from his battle with your Khan.” He stared at the scroll for a moment. “I do not think he ever imagined he would return alive.”

Chen nodded. “My condolences on your loss, and my congratulations on your ascendance,” he said. “I suspect that you share my reservations.”

“Hai,” Shigetoshi said with a grunt. He scanned the front lines of their armies. “Yoshino-sama’s vow has been fulfilled. I see no reason for this war to continue.”

“Agreed,” Chen said. “No more lives need be lost this day.”

“My lord,” Hideyo said, stepping forward. “They have taken the life of our Khan!”

“And the Khan took the lives of two of their Champions,” Chen returned. “What man could claim greater glory than to defeat such august warriors as those of the Lion?” He regarded Shigetoshi for a moment. “Remove your men from these… from my lands, Akodo-sama. There has been enough death.”

“On that we agree,” Shigetoshi said. He gave the hand signal that indicated a withdrawal, and his men responded immediately. He paused for a moment. “I know of you, Moto Chen,” he said. “I know your reputation. Walk a different path than Chagatai’s. I have no desire for further war, but if the Lion are called to march upon the Unicorn again, we will leave nothing but scorched earth in our wake.”

“I will walk my own path,” Chen said. “And if the Lion have occasion to enter the Unicorn provinces again, know that no man, woman, or child among us will rest until you are dead to the last man. There will be no mercy, no retreat.”

Shigetoshi nodded. “It is fortunate that we are of one mind, then.”

Two months later…
The traveler rode into the stables and dismounted in one smooth motion. He had been on the road longer than he had anticipated, and he knew that upon his return home, there would be a great deal of urgent tasks that awaited his attention. Still, this was a matter of great importance as well, and for now it was most deserving of his time.

“Halt.” The traveler turned to face a young guardsman, flanked by two of his peers. The young man in front bore the mark of a taisa, and was clearly not pleased at the traveler’s presence. “You have no business here. Leave at once.”

The traveler reached into the bag on his saddle. “Let me show you my travel papers…”

“I am not interested in your papers,” the guardsman said. “I know who you are. I do not know what you hope to accomplish here, but you will fail. Leave. Now.”

The traveler held the scroll aloft. “I assure you my business is legitimate. You will find that this scroll bears the seal…”

The young warrior drew his blade. He was clenching its handle so tightly that the traveler wondered if it would not snap off in his hand. The guardsman’s face was pale and trembling with anger. “Mount your horse now,” he said quietly, “or I will kill you where you stand.”

The traveler patted his horse and considered it for a moment. He would not kill this young man, but neither would he leave before his business was concluded.

“Dun.”

The voice was soft, almost subdued, but its tone was clearly one that was accustomed to being obeyed. The guardsman did not take his eyes off of the traveler, but he tilted his head over his shoulder to acknowledge the newcomer. “My lady, you should not be here. Please, allow me to deal with this.”

“Am I not free to enter my own family’s stables?” the woman asked. “Should my daughter and I request permission to take an impromptu ride across the plains?”

The guardsman cast one last baleful glance at the traveler and then turned to bow. “Of course not, my lady, but this man is dangerous.”

The woman brushed past the guardsman and looked at the traveler. “I know who this is,” she said quietly. “Take my daughter inside.”

“My lady, please, let me deal with this… this…”

“Now, Dun,” the woman said. Her tone did not brook further questioning.

The guardsman’s face was the most pained that the traveler had ever seen, but he bowed instantly and took the little girl’s hand. The three men escorted the tiny child back toward the castle outside. “I did not mean to offer offense to your guardsman,” the traveler said. “Please, do not punish him on my behalf.”

Shinjo Genki smiled slightly. “Dun is young and impetuous, full of fire and ready to prove his family’s worth to the world. My husband, my late husband,” she paused for effect, “appointed him to the palace guard so that he might offer him guidance as he grew older. Now, obviously, that is no longer a possibility. He has taken Shono’s death… poorly.”

The traveler watched the retreating guardsman. “I see.”

“Now,” Genki said, “what business does the Lion Clan Champion have at Shiro Shinjo?”

Shigetoshi offered a faint smile and took a long bundle from his horse. “I have something that belongs to you,” he said. “Or rather, it belongs to your daughter.”

Genki’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

In response, the Lion unrolled the cloth and withdrew two swords, each magnificent on its own, and greater by far together. “These were your husband’s blades. I am sure you recognize them.”

Genki did not speak for a moment. “We looked… there was so much chaos after the attack…”

“I know,” Shigetoshi said quietly. “I did not wish to risk them being lost. I had them properly cleaned and oiled. I apologize for the delay in returning them.”

The Shinjo daimyo looked at the Lion with a curious expression. “Why bring these in person? Why not send a messenger?”

Shigetoshi drew a deep breath. “I wanted to speak with you in person,” he admitted. “There have been enough blood feuds between our people. I want no more.” He paused. “Your husband was a great man. It was an honor to oppose him on the battlefield. As a Lion, I celebrate my clan’s victory. As a warrior, I rejoice in the glorious death of an honorable foe.” He looked back toward the castle again. “As a parent, I mourn for the loss of a child’s father.”

“She is yet young,” Genki said. “She does not understand.”

“She will one day.” Shigetoshi took a scroll from the bag on his horse and offered it. “On the day she takes up those blades, offer her this. So long as I am alive, these papers will grant her free access to travel to the Lion lands and seek me out. If she must, she may attempt to avenge her father, and it will cost no blood or lives save ours.” He paused, and smiled again. “It is my hope, however, that if she comes to speak with me, it will be so that I can tell her how glorious her father’s death was.”

Genki said nothing as Shigetoshi mounted his horse and turned back toward the distant Lion lands. “I… thank you,” she said.

“There is no need,” Shigetoshi said. “I know that the Shinjo family was greatly dishonored by the actions of your husband’s father. As far as the Akodo are concerned, as far as the entire Lion Clan is concerned, there is no stain on the honor of the Shinjo family. Your husband’s blood has washed those sins away, and we will have words with any who suggest otherwise. Carry the Fortunes, Shinjo Genki.”

Genki watched as the Lion Champion rode away. “Carry the Fortunes,” she called after him.

For a brief moment, she thought she could hear her husband’s bright, boisterous laugh somewhere in the distance.

*

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