Scenes from the Empire

Scenes from the Empire
by Nancy Sauer, Brian Yoon, and Rusty Priske
Editing and Development by Fred Wan

The air was cold with the first whispers of an early winter, and the night sky above was spread with the stark glory of the stars. On the other side of the camp’s tiny fire the two Daigotsu samurai not on watch were talking between themselves and idly tossing dice. Konetsu pulled his blanket tighter around him and huddled closer to the fire. He hated the cold. He hated the stars. Most of all, he hated being back in Rokugan.

Not that his lord knew, or even cared, for that matter. Daigotsu had been pleased to hear of the god-beast’s death, but Shimekiri’s account had perplexed him. Had Gakku’s mad dash succeeded? Had the beast imbibed the blood? Or had something else been at work? It seemed incredible that the samurai of the Empire had anything that could have stopped the god-beast, but Daigotsu had not weathered the trials of his life by being complacent. Konetsu and his group had been dispatched to investigate. There was a certain risk in leaving the Fingers of Bone, but with the general disorder in the Empire Daigotsu judged that their small party would not attract much attention.

Konetsu had agreed at the time, but as they traveled deeper into the Empire he began to regret it. There was something about Rokugan that made him uncomfortable. The cry of the quails startling out of the brush nagged him about it. The goldenrod on the margins between forest and field were bent under its weight. The smell of the harvested earth lying under the autumn sun was redolent of it. The yew trees swaying in the breeze spoke to each other of it. Sleeping or waking, meditating or walking, it plucked at him, and he hadn’t the faintest idea what it was. He had gone from irritation to real anger and was now on the way to desperation.

A faint movement caught his eye, and Konetsu saw Daigotsu Shinjitsu coming in from his watch, his basket hat tucked under his arm. Keigo handed the dice over to his opponent without comment and headed off into the darkness. The dice game resumed with its new player, and after watching for a few moments Konetsu decided it was time for sleep. They had been traveling fast the last week, and he didn’t expect for them to slow down soon.

* * * * *

Doji Midoru watched the change of guard with the same cool detachment he watched everything else with. He had been prepared to go into Daigotsu’s fortress and find his father, if that is what it took; finding Konetsu out on the roads of the Empire was a blessing from the Heavens. Blessings needed to be used wisely, however, and so he had spent the last few days shadowing the group as they traveled. Midoru fingered the amulet tied to his left wrist. It was from the main temple of the Shi-Tien Yen Wang, and it bore the kanji of the Lords on one face and the name of Emma-O on the other. It was a promise of aid, and a reminder of obligation. Midoru shifted his gaze to the sentry, and then to the small camp. He knew what his master wanted of him, and he was quite happy to comply.

When he was sure that everyone in the camp was asleep Midoru slowly backed away from the bushes that hid him, keeping low to the ground and heading towards the road. When he reached a part of the road the sentry could not see he stopped, straightened up, and shook the stiffness out of his muscles. Then he set off down the road at a steady pace. He didn’t think he had the skill to sneak up on an alert sentry, but the skills he did have would work just as well.

Midoru could feel the sentry’s eyes upon him as he came into view, but he did not show any alarm at seeing him. As the road took him closer he looked up towards the man and paused. “Excuse me, samurai-san,” Midoru said, his voice pitched to carry to the sentry without disturbing the camp. “Is this still the road to Akimura?”

Daigotsu Keigo didn’t hesitate. Their orders were to behave in all ways like an ordinary group of travelers, and that included being civil to whoever they met on the road. “No, sorry, this is the road to Sugichou.”

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” Midoru took a few steps closer.

“This is the road to Sugichou,” repeated Keigo.

Midoru frowned and took a few steps closer, then cupped a hand around his ear. “My apologies, again?”

“Sugichou,” Keigo said, pronouncing the word with exaggerated care. “You missed the turn-off to Akimura five miles back.”

“Five miles?” Midoru said in false surprise. “I–well, it is what it is. Thank you for your aid, samurai-san,” He bowed down slightly and when he rose up his katana was sliding out of its sheath and he was lunging forward for the strike. The blade sliced through its target and Midoru followed through by stepping behind the man and grabbing him, holding a hand over his mouth. Keigo struggled for a moment, trying shout a warning, but he could not break Midoru’s hold. With the last dregs of his strength he dug his foot down into the ground and kicked up a small spray of earth and pebbles.

Midoru flung the body away from him and raced towards the camp. It had been only a whisper of sound, but it was out of the ordinary and that is what a warrior listened for, even in his sleep. He arrived to find one man already rising up and another throwing off his blankets. Midoru decapitated the one trying to stand and swung around to cut off the left hand of the other, who was now reaching for the blade laying on the ground next to him. The man fell forward towards the fire, screaming something. Midoru ignored him, ducked to allow a no dachi to pass overhead, and then turned to face his attacker.

“You have chosen the wrong camp, bandit,” Konetsu said, “I–” His voice faltered as he saw Midoru’s face. The Crane took advantage of the opening and moved in, punching Konetsu with the hand that held the katana. The old man staggered back and Midoru followed. A second blow landed; the third did not as Midoru found himself grabbed from behind.

“My name means truth,” Shinjitsu hissed, “and I say your truth is death.” His right arm held Midoru’s sword-arm pinned, while the cauterized stump of his left arm slowly choked the Doji.

“Truer than you know,” Midoru whispered. He struggled to free his right arm, but Shinjitsu’s grip held firm and he felt the katana drop from his weakening hand. With the last strength available to him he gripped his wakizashi with his left hand, drew, and stabbed backwards.

Shinjitsu let go with a curse and tried to open the range between them. Midoru was upon him in an instant, slashing furiously with the wakizashi. His opponent began to slow and Midoru slammed him to the ground and stabbed him repeatedly in the throat.

When he was sure he had severed the neck Midoru leaped back to his feet and turned back to face Konestu. The old man had just climbed back to his feet, and now he and Midoru stared at each other for a moment. “Do you remember giving me this?” Midoru asked, holding out the bloodied wakizashi. “DO YOU?” Konetsu turned away, casting about for his lost weapon, or perhaps unable to meet the Crane’s eyes. Midoru bolted across the clearing and seized Konetsu by his hair. “Emma-O!” he yelled.

There was no flare of light, no great rush of wind: they were in the ruined camp, and then they were elsewhere. A gray, sunless plain stretched off into the horizon, and about them stood ten bone-white pillars. Konetsu took a breath and began to scream. He dropped to the ground and shook like a man in the trip of a great illness. Midoru stepped back and reflexively cleaned and put away his wakizashi. He did not know what was happening, or what he should expect next. Emma-O had been uncommunicative on this point, and Midoru had not presumed to question him.

After what seemed like a very long time Konetsu began to cough violently, and with a great wracking heave he coughed out a round stone the size of a lotus seed, smeared with blood and phlegm. It was black like a pearl, and shone with a faint green luminescence. Konetsu pushed himself back away from it, panting for breath. The pain was gone, and with the clarity of its absence he realized that he had carried that pain for years, ever since the Rain. He took a deep breath, reveling in the ease of it, and then looked around. Gray stone, gray sky, white pillars, and a skeleton clad in a stylish blue kimono. “Midoru?” he said, not understanding how he recognized his son, but knowing it to be him all the same.

Midoru put a bony hand up to feel the fleshless planes of his face. “This is my form in the Realm of the Dead, for I am the son of Emma-O,” he said. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

“Yes. But it was not my secret to share.” Konetsu rubbed his eyes briefly. “I am sorry.”

“No,” Midoru said. He knelt down before his father. “I should not have questioned your judgement. I am to blame. I beg your forgiveness.”

Konetsu reached out and just barely brushed the tips of Midoru’s finger-bones. “Of course I forgive you. You have ended my long blasphemy–I could not ask for a better son. ” He looked up at the armored form that had silently appeared next to them. “And now it is time for my judgement.”

Emma-O put out his left hand and the black stone rose up into his grip. “Only the dead are judged in this realm,” he said. “We will meet a third time, Doji Konetsu. My son, I will call on you again.” He raised his right hand in a gesture of benediction and the gardens of Kyuden Doji bloomed around them.

Konetsu looked around at the autumn-plumed trees, and then up at the stars. He wept, just a little.

************************************

Few things threatened the safety of the empire from the confines of Otosan Uchi anymore, yet the foreboding sense of despair and abandoned hope seemed to cling to the air around the former Imperial City. Kataoko frowned as another chill wind blew across the camp and wondered if the change in weather hid a change in her fortune. Bad luck followed her, no matter how far she traveled away from her home, and she had no doubt that this new assignment spelled her doom.

She lay on the thin mat and stared at the stars as she attempted to settle her mind, but it was no use. She could not summon the calm that came to her on the hunt and sleep danced away to the outskirts of her mind every time she reached out for it. Finally, with a grunt under her breath, the young assassin pushed herself upright and took in her surroundings. The others in the patrol, deep in their slumber around her, did not seem to share her restlessness. She stepped away from her bedrolls and made her way to the small campfire burning at the edge of the camp.

Two warriors were sharing the warmth of the fire yet neither spoke or even looked at the other. Kataoko had met them earlier in the day, and her first impressions of the pair had held true throughout the entire day. The first, a grizzled, blunt man named Butoken, looked to be an absolute idiot. His only saving graces were the bulging muscles that hinted at barely suppressed violence. Rumor held that Butoken had been chased out of the Crab lands when he broke two of their warriors’ backs during a bar fight – with a bar stool.

The other was a gentle soul, a priest of the kami named Enomoto. Kataoko had paid special attention to the shugenja, as ronin with the gift of speech with the kami were very rare. She could not figure out why the man had been wandering the land with no Clan affiliation before he joined the Legion of Two Thousand. One thing was absolutely clear: Enomoto’s kindness was no act. He was truly concerned with the welfare of his new brothers.

Kataoko stepped forward into the light. “Good evening,” she said softly. Both men startled at her words and stared at her – one with wonder and the other with anger.

“Fortunes,” Butoken spat. “I almost mistook you for another ghost from this cursed place.”

“She looks blessedly real,” Enomoto said, his eyes studying her as she sat down beside him.

“I step lightly,” Kataoko replied breezily. She smiled and wagged her finger toward the berserker with mock consternation. “If you can’t even spot a young girl stepping through the camp, you’re not doing your job very well.”

Butoken snorted. “Sentry work, in this part of the city? Even bandits have abandoned the area because it just wasn’t worth it here. The only thing we need to worry about is ghosts, and ‘nomoto here can sense disturbances long before they can slit your throat.”

“And of course, the kami do not consider you a disturbance in any matter,” Enomoto added. He bowed politely to the woman.

Small wonder, considering what I’ve done, Kataoko mused, and left the thought unsaid. Instead, she began to roll a small wooden ball along her fingers and stared into the fire. “Have you been a part of the Legion for long?” she asked.

“A while,” Butoken replied.

When it became clear the man would not embellish his tale, Enomoto smiled and spoke. “Of course, I knew of the work of the Two Thousand from their adventures over the years. I only joined the legion when it became clear that my help was useful – no, required.”

She slipped the small tool back into the folds in her kimono and raised an eyebrow. “Required? What do you mean?”

Enomoto stared into the fire and the skin around his eyes seemed to tighten. “It’s hard to explain to someone who’s never heard the other language,” he said, almost to himself. “It is a whisper on the wind, a reminder that there are greater things around you. It’s a feeling of certainty from the core of your being that the gods have a place for you in their world.”

Butoken and Kataoko shared a glance. She stood up, took a few steps away from the fire and began to stretch her legs in place. “That must feel nice,” she said.

“Sometimes. Sometimes it is overwhelming,” Enomoto admitted. “It is a constant reminder that we are all just servants to the gods’ will, and–”

“What are you doing, girl?” Butoken interrupted.

She continued to stretch and decided to ignore the slight. “I like to keep moving,” she said. “It keeps my body warm and ready for whatever may happen.”

” I see,” Butoken said. “Well, that may have been helpful on the road, a pretty woman like you, but there’s no need to warm up here. No danger around. This is a pure, straightforward, tea run. So, unless you want me to help you with–”

A bloodcurdling scream echoed from the middle of the camp, and the three of them were instantly on their feet. Without any speaking between them they raced toward the source of the disturbance. Butoken had already swung his large ono into a firm two-handed grasp and Enomoto’s eyes were sharp as they scanned the camp. Kataoko’s fingers were brushing against the throwing knives strapped to her leg as they reached the middle of the camp.

A young shugenja leaned over her bedroll, a pool of vomit slowly seeping into the ground in front of her. The Legionnaires around her were wide awake and staring intently at the source. Kataoko could not remember her name but remembered seeing her walking along the edge of the procession by herself. The shugenja’s chest heaved and she looked as if she would vomit more.

Enomoto knelt beside her and raised a concerned hand. “Little one, what ails you? Do you feel the Taint nearby, or some perversion of the elements?”

“It is not here now,” the girl whispered hoarsely, “but it will be here. They will be here, and we must be able to stop them.”

Butoken slammed his ono to the ground in disgust. “They’re not here?” he proclaimed loudly. “Thanks for waking the entire camp for your warning, girl.”

Enomoto ignored him. “Can you sense the future?”

“No,” she answered. She wiped her mouth and stared intently into her counterpart’s eyes. “But the elements are screaming silently. They can sense it coming.”

Enomoto maintained a neutral expression as he slowly straightened. His expression changed slowly into a grim frown as he listened to the elements around him. “You are right. Something is coming,” he said.

The foreboding words settled in to the crowd with the weight of judgment. Kataoko could almost feel the anxiety and paranoia settling within the peoples’ minds. No one would consider this patrol an easy assignment again, for as long as they stayed in the ruined city.

************************************

Mirumoto Ichizo dismounted from his horse and crouched a few steps away. He appreciated the service done for him by the horse, but there were times when he needed the feel of the earth and the touch of the grass.

Now he simply wanted to know why the bird song had stopped.

Ichizo could see that there were more tracks than normal leading in the direction of the tower, but that might not be indicative of anything out of the ordinary. The Tortoise made use of this road as well, and their comings and goings around Sunset Tower were not as regimented as those of the Dragon.

The Dragon had regular duty shifts guarding the Tower. Ichizo commanded the garrison whenever possible. He had accepted that responsibility from Kitsuki Berii when they discovered the terrible artifact that was housed within, and he had never regretted his posting. If there were ever regrets, they came when he was away. He had faith in Ino and knew that he was capable of performing his duties, but still

And now Ichizo could feel there was something wrong.

He waited silently and listened but it was not what he could hear that concerned him. It was what he could not. Finally he stood and continued down the road, leading his horse rather than riding it.

When he reached the outer guard point, he was not met as he should have been. He scanned for signs of the guards who should have been posted there. It did not take long to find what he was looking for. There were small blood splatters on the road, leading to a grassy area that was well matted down, seemingly from something being dragged across.

Ichizo moved to the edge of the road and saw the two Tortoise samurai who seemingly had been stationed there. A man of medium build lay on his back, forever unblinking. His throat was sliced open and his chest and chin were drenched in red.

Beside him lay another samurai, facedown, with a wound torn through the back of her armor near the shoulder blades.

Ichizo leaned in to assess the nature of the wounds, to see if he could recreate what had happened. Before he could barely begin, he heard a groan from the second fallen samurai. He helped the wounded samurai roll onto her side and she looked at him with clear eyes.

“““““`

Kasuga Keiko kicked at the dirt beneath her feet. “Do you ever get used to all of this?”

Kasuga Mamoru smirked a little. “All this what?”

“Dirt.”

Momoru shook his head. “You would think we were leagues from the ocean the way you carry on. You don’t always get to be on ship, girl. You had better get used to the idea.”

Keiko snarled, with no real force behind it. “That doesn’t mean I have to like it, old man. It is no wonder that I can barely understand what the Dragon are on about when they talk. How could anyone be lucid when they spend so much time in the mountains? The thin air must get to their brains.”

Mamoru chuckled. “You should feel lucky that we have Mirumoto assigned here. I met one of those Togashi once. I asked him a question and in the end I was so confused that I completely forgot what it was that I asked.”

His laugh was returned. “Someone managed to confuse Kasuga Mamoru? Call in the heralds!”

“Sarcasm noted. Still, it is I that your father put in charge of this duty, so watch your tongue, girl. Tough it out. This too shall pass and you will get the feel of a ship beneath your feet again.”

Keiko opened her mouth to speak but before she could do so she saw movement behind her fellow Tortoise. “Mamoru!”

The older samurai spun around to be met by a men seemingly clad in shadow. A sword swung out of his misty edges, leaving a trail of black smoke behind it. He moved so fast that Mamoru never even got his katana clear of its saya before his throat was sliced open cleanly, as the blade looked indistinct but cut with razor precision.

As Mamoru fell, Keiko moved to intercept his attacker, but a blow from behind felled her. The shadow did not travel alone. When she fell, her head struck a rock in the road, knocking her unconscious.

““““““““`

Mirumoto Ichizo and Kasuga Keiko approached Sunset Tower warily. There were no signs of movement around or within, as far as they could discern.

“Are you certain you can continue? Your wounds”

Keiko cut Ichizo off. “My wounds are not a concern. I can have them tended to later. Duty comes first.”

Ichizo saw the steel in her eyes and chose not to pursue the matter any further. “I will take the lead.” Not waiting for her response, the Dragon entered the main entrance. They had traveled no more than ten feet when they found the first body.

Keiko’s voice cracked only slightly when she said, “Kasuga Keda.” When Ichizo glanced at her she said, “My father.”

““““““““

Kasuga Keda watched the two Tortoise stationed within the main doors for a moment before accosting them, “Is this how a Tortoise samurai does his duty?” Both samurai straightened their backs quickly but before either could utter a word Keda continued, “If Mirumoto Ino had seen you slouching like a laboror, it would have brought shame to our clan. Do you want to be the reason the Tortoise are relieved of our duties here?”

Both stammered out a variation of “No, Keda-sama.”

“I should hope not. The next time I see you on duty, you hold both better have your” Keda trailed off as the main door to the tower swung open and a shape cloaked in shadow flowed through.

The shadow was less complete from when Mamoru and Keiko were attacked. The shape of the attacker was more defined, but that was no solace as that outline was hunched and misshapen. When the sword flashed it came completely free of the shadow, as did the hands that held it.

If Keda had but a moment he would have admired the craftsmanship of the Tsi blade wielded against him. He did not have that moment as the blade sank deep and the shadow moved past him to the guards Keda had admonished.

“““““““““`

Ichizo and Keiko moved quickly through the tower. Both knew the full complement assigned there and both counted off the bodies. Ichizo used numbers. Keiko used names.

When they reached the apex of the tower, Keiko knew that she was the only Tortoise to survive the massacre. Ichizo knew there was one body still not found.

““““““““““

By the time the two interlopers reached their target, the shadow had fled them, with only wisps to remind them that they once were covered. “Our master’s magic seems to not like this place. The closer we get, the weaker it becomes.” The second figure looked to be a Yobanjin, though one of high standing. He carried himself with pride and not like the madmen that had plagued the northern borders of Rokugan.

The first figure, the one carrying the Tsi blade called Nokemono, growled in response.

“My master, then. Still, your master swore an oath to mine, so here you are to do better than what Megumi did before you. Finish the task and serve both our masters.”

Daigotsu Eiya snarled and then, with a mighty kick, tore the door at the top of the stairs from the wall. Within the chamber they found a single Dragon samurai, sitting cross-legged in the center of the floor. He wore a simple kimono, colored green and gold, with his daisho sitting across his thighs, but Eiya’s attention was drawn to the cloth that he wore across his eyes.

“I do not recognize you, but I know you to be one of those that calls himself a Spider.” Mirumoto Ino spoke in a clear voice, betraying no fear or adrenaline from his situation. “If you would be so kind, could you elucidate why the Spider, who have seemed to be working for the betterment of Rokugan of late, would turn their blades on the innocent samurai who guard this tower?”

“He does not speak much.”

“Then you, Yobanjin, should speak for him. That you are here does not surprise me in the least, but I had such hopes that the Spider could be trusted. Silly thought, I suppose.”

The Yobanjin grunted. “They can be trusted after they swear an oath to the Dark Oracle. Those are not to be taken lightly, even if you are Daigotsu.”

Ino nodded. “Yes, that explains much. Still, I have also sworn an oath, to my clan, and I am afraid I cannot let you achieve your goal.” He sighed. “It seems that our oaths have run counter to each other. I guess there is no choice but to engage in swordplay.”

Eiya growled fiercely as he dashed forward but Nokemono found only air as Ino rolled backwards into a handspring. He landed eight feet away with both of his swords in his hand, ready for use.

The two samurai circled slowly, each watching for an opening. Eiya thought he found something, or his patience failed, and he dashed in. Ino darted to the side, only to find the Yobanjin rushing forward like a Crab berserker. Ino used both swords to knock the weapons of his adversaries downwards while he leapt above them. He lashed out with both feet, catching both attackers in the head.

Eiya, with superior balance to his companion, was staggered back a few paces, but kept his composure. The Yobanjin, on the other hand, sprawled across the floor of the chamber. As he tried to scramble to his feet, Ino’s katana slashed deeply into his arm, forcing him lose his weapon and to fall back to the floor.

“Now,” said Ino, “maybe we can conduct ourselves like samurai. I sense from your movements something of the Kakita in you. Shall we test ourselves properly then?”

Eiya said nothing, but moved to an appropriate location across from Ino and fell into a stance.

“Yes, Kakita for certain, but something else as well. It seems you have gone past your training. I sense your skill and I believe it may be greater than mine. If it were not for your reason for being here, I would happily grant you your victory and ask for the opportunity to learn what you know, but alas, that cannot be. I am not sure you would make a very good teacher, regardless.” Ino raised his swords into an appropriate dueling stance. “Shall we finish this?”

Eiya moved first and while Ino tried to adjust for the changes in his Kakita style, it was not enough. Nokemono sank deeply through Ino’s side. The Dragon was dead before he slipped to the floor.

“Help me up.” The Yobanjin gasped at Eiya. The Dark Covenant is in that cabinet. Help me up and I will take it.”

Eiya moved directly to his fallen companion and thrust his sword, still wet with Ino’s blood, through the chest of the Yobanjin.

When he left the tower with his prize, he traveled north, to put Daigotsu’s oath to rest.

““““““““““““

Ichizo and Keiko stepped around the pools of blood in the upper chamber. Ichizo spent a moment standing over his fallen clansman, but his attention was primarily on the open cabinet on the other side of the room.

“Time is of the essence now. I need to get back my people before it is too late.”