The nearer the Shinkansen got to the capital, the further dominated the skyline was by towering skyscrapers made of glass and steel. Only the latter material was common in south Yeupis, and the former was found in the north only in the construction of important town places and mausoleums. Stefan’s eyes could barely understand what had surrounded them. It seemed that there was more sky than building the deeper they got into the city. He remembered the distant towers of downtown Shargara, briefly seeing them on his way to the Anbieter’s manor nearly seven months earlier.
But this was different. He was in the middle of it all, and most importantly, this was all due to the minds and hands of Terrans, not very different from him at all.
He thought back to what Gareth had told him when he first came to his base—that Titanians had stolen inventions of the Terran past. He wondered if all this was all that remained in its original form—if that was what his life could’ve looked like had the Titanians never left their moon.
Swiftly after arriving at the central station of the city—a sprawling, vast terminal that was not only the rail hub of the capital city but also the nation as well—they were quickly escorted into long, road-based cars that Anwen learned were dubbed limousines. Despite how grand the station was, it was eerily empty. Even Stefan, who had never been in anything quite like it in his life, knew that this was not the norm.
They must have closed it down for our arrival, he thought as he and his fellow Yeupisian travelers made themselves comfortable.
“Friends, welcome to Iwasoto. The capital city of the nation of Shimajima and the home of our Shogun, Daisuke!” Genichi’s voice echoed through a speaker system aboard the limousine. Anwen translated immediately after, speaking into the microphone the daimyo sitting across from her held in front of her face.
The limousine erupted with cheers and applause. Most of the sailors aboard had never ventured into a large city, not even Shargara in their homeland. This was a great cause for celebration after such an arduous journey, a true milestone of not only during their time together, but indeed their lives as well.
Ivan sat next to Genichi, in between him and Rohan. The Yeupisian men both muttered vigorously, practicing what they might have to say before the Shogun. Sitting on either side of Stefan and Anwen were Manisha and Ilias, each looking out at the city around them with different temperaments. Manisha gazed outside calmly, while Ilias gasped at seemingly anything that moved or seemed remotely different from what he was used to. Genichi expressed amusement at their joy, before turning to Anwen with a look of caution on his face.
“Anwen-sama, there is more I must say about the Shogun. I cannot say it aloud here over the speaker. I shall wait until just before we enter the palace so that no unwanted ears may hear us.”
She nodded and then translated for the other Yeupisians nearby. Stefan glanced at the bag that rested between his feet on the floor, containing the knife that Manisha had given him back in Chitran. He did not want to use it, but Genichi’s comment made him increasingly drawn to it. Ivan quelled the concerns of the southern Yeupisians around him, simply concluding that the Shogun was just an important man.
Anwen herself, up to that point, had not seriously considered what they may encounter at the Shogun’s palace. Nothing since their arrival to the islands indicated any sort of threat, besides Lady Makoto’s warning which she chalked up to the woman behaving parentally towards her. Nothing, in fact, except…
…the guards with Genichi-san. The way they just barely hid their distaste for us. Genichi-san isn’t like them at all. Could they be… the Shogun’s men, acting under his orders?
---
The palace where the Shogun resided made the Daimyo’s impressive residence in Yakuramoto look like a doghouse in comparison. The gated area in which the palace, the gardens, and other buildings within it were so large they could fit several Marius-sized pieces of land within it.
“Anwen-sama… listen carefully,” Genichi spoke softly as he and the southern convoy were escorted into the palace grounds by a handful of guards. “Tell your folk to choose their words carefully. Do not speak until Daisuke-dono has finished speaking, and do not speak until he has explicitly given you permission. If not, I doubt that your people will receive what you came here to get. And that… would only be the cause for more problems than that which you already face.”
The sight that awaited the Yeupisians was one that they would not forget. Several rows of armored warriors known as samurai stood in formation in the main courtyard, prepared to receive their Shogun’s honoured guests. The head guard marched to the front of the Yeupisian delegation, where he had a brief talk with Genichi. Although they spoke in whispers, Anwen was able to tell that the guard was doing more of the talking, while the Daimyo was the one keeping open ears. After the brief discussion, the guard requested the Yeupisians to follow him, his tone polite and calm, but indicative of a hardened military man.
The reception hall they were brought to had more than enough standing room to accommodate the 35 or so guests. Lining each wall were members of the Shogun’s court—ministers, advisors, high-ranking noblemen, and several concubines of the Shogun. At the back centre of hall, kneeling, was a young Shimajimese man. He was perhaps a decade or two younger than Genichi, who was about 50 years in age, his youth indicated by the long full tresses of dark hair that fell to his midback. He was clothed in an intricate set of garments known as sokutai, which had so many layers that the Yeupisians wondered how he could even move.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
Genichi bowed so low before the man that his knees, hands and forehead all touched the floor. Anwen copied him, although not bowing nearly as deep. The other Yeupisians did as their interpreter did.
The deeper the bow, the greater respect is being shown… there’s no doubt about it, Anwen thought. He isn’t an ancient man like I’d thought, but this is him, the man we came to see.
“Lift your head, Yakuramoto no Genichi,” the Shogun spoke in Shimajimese. His voice was gentle yet authoritative. “Have your guests introduce themselves and let them speak as to why they have crossed the great ocean separating them from us after so many long years. The rest of you may also lift your heads.”
Anwen translated the request for Ivan. For some reason, although the young man could hardly supress his nerves on the Shinkansen ride to Iwasoto, he felt amazingly calm and confident, speaking with no hesitation.
“Yes, Your Excellency. My name is Ivan Hout, and I am the head of this convoy. We are comprised of both northern and southern Yeupisians, and we come to you with a great request. Our homeland, which you know has been oppressed and occupied by the Titanians for a millennium, has been engulfed in a new war that is on a scale never before seen. They use weapons we have never fought against, and they can kill hundreds of people at once. The leader of our organization has decided that the only way to gain any sort of edge is through an increase in manpower. That is why we have come here today. We would like at least 35,000 armed soldiers with knowledge of your… shinpitekenaishi. In exchange, we will readily give you whatever you desire. We have already provided Daimyo Genichi with a sufficient supply of wood for building. For you, we can give you anything on our aboard our vessel and assets that may be of interest to you.”
After the words were delivered to the Shogun in a comprehensible manner through Anwen, a grin appeared on his lips. It widened as a chuckle emerged from his lips, which increased until it became a boisterous guffaw.
“T seems yond the Daimyo hath becometh a dram greedy since I lasteth did see that gent. Welcoming a dealeth without shaping a prop'r relationship? Yond is not the way we Shimajimese negotiateth. But doth f'rgive that gent f'r this want of professionalism. That gent isn't hath used to such high-level discourse. Anon, how about we filleth thy stomachs? The voyage hath been a longeth one.”
The language the Shogun spoke was so familiar to the ears of the Yeupisians, yet not the same, either. It was an old form of Yeupisian, the one spoken in the years immediately after the First Invasion. It was close enough to the foreigners for them to understand it, and it was clear that Daisuke could converse with them without the need for an interpreter.
“Y-You speak our language, Your Excellency? That is incredible. It’s a great honour to know that our language has been preserved for all these years in your country. This indeed will be the start to a great relationship.” Ivan spoke with humility.
What’s up with him? Anwen wondered. For whatever reason, she was more surprised by Ivan’s uncharacteristic demeanour than the fact that a man from an isolated nation could speak a language his people hadn’t heard in a millennium. He never acts like that.
---
Sailors and courtiers alike filled their stomachs with foods that the Yeupisians loved the taste of on their tongues, while simultaneously being unable to pronounce their names. Okonomiyaki, yakitori, unagi, and onigiri steamed off of every plate and bowl. This feast was much grander than the tea ceremony in Yakuramoto in every way possible. Every surface looked much more solid and ornate, the atmosphere was even more lively, and nutriment was tenfold heartier.
“This is way more food than we had in Genichi’s place.” Anwen said as she pulled an empty skewer away from her mouth.
“Oh, yeah. It definitely is.” Stefan nodded. He looked in his peripheries every few seconds, a byproduct of his time with the Black Shield. It usually served no purpose, but this time, it did.
“By the way,” he said upon completing a round of glances. “Genichi isn’t here. Isn’t that weird? He’s the man who brought this altogether, yet he’s nowhere to be seen.”
“Now that you mention it, that is strange,” Anwen noted. She remembered what the Shogun had said about him earlier. Was not eating with dear and honoured guests a punishment for not adhering to the Shimajimese way of speech? “But it’s none of our business, though. But let’s brush that to the side for now. Isn’t it so great that the Shogun himself understands us?”
The girl’s speech was gleeful. She sounded an awful lot like Ivan when he spoke with the Shogun.
Stefan raised a brow, tilting his head.
“You okay? You don’t sound like… you.” he said, his voice tinged with suspicion and concern.
“Why are you grilling me at a time like this?” Anwen said, before she grabbed a chicken-crammed skewer from his plate. She waved it in front of his face with a wide beam spread across her lips. “Do you want me to end up like this meat over here? Just relax for a bit, Stef. We made it so far. Give yourself a break this once.”
I have been taking a break this whole time! He wanted to scream. From the training, from the fighting. From what I know best. You don’t know how bad I want to go back to it.
And the death, Grandson. You neglect to mention that.
“Mine own two new young friends! I've been toldeth many most wondrous objects about thee from Mr. Hout.” A voice spoke from behind the two teenagers. They turned to see the face of the Shogun, smiling deeply.
“Your Excellency, you’re so kind. You didn’t have to do all this.” Anwen spoke as if she had been a yearslong devotee of the man.
“It’s amazing. Thank you.” Stefan spoke in a milder tone, having used a great amount of mental strength to shake the voice in his head away.
The Shogun bowed for a moment, expressing gratitude for the recognition.
“I behold forward to getting to knoweth thee bett'r in the coming days. Enjoyeth thy food!” Daisuke said, before taking his leave.
Anwen then turned her focus back to the boy next to her.
“Well? You heard him. Enjoy the food. You’ve barely even touched yours.”
She handed him the skewer, which he took with some reluctance.
“I’m not that hungry, but thanks.” he said anyway. No matter how odd it was so see her so cheerful in such an uncertain time, he didn’t want to dampen her mood, so he ate the skewered meat.
Little did she, or Stefan himself, know, there was growing hunger within him. One that could not be quenched with food, and one that was growing a tiny bit more by the hour.