The parts of Kakon-shi that my Guide led me through were little more than a collection of shacks and small wooden houses. The people who lived in them and milled about the area were dark around the eyes, listless, and impoverished. Their clothes were scarce and worn thin, their bodies malnourished and frail. One thing that struck me immediately was the lack of children. It wasn’t that there were only a few children, no, there were none whatsoever. The Forlorn Kingdom had had a lot of children running about in the Village, so it was notable to say the least.
We passed beyond the eastern Slums and entered into the Marketplace with rows of stalls full of merchants and craftsmen, and the smell of food in the air. The people here were far healthier, but still had that strange darkness in their eyes. It was then that I remembered where I’d seen eyes like that before. The memory of my would-be killer, Mŕtvy, her eyes brimming with darkness, like deep wells full of all the worst things imaginable. Eyes like those came from experience, and not the pleasant kind. I recalled the Captain’s tale of a land torn apart by a bloody struggle. In such struggles it is always the ordinary people who suffer the most, despite just trying to live their lives in peace.
“Where are you taking me?” I asked the Masked Man, after we’d passed through the Marketplace and entered into the Residential District, which was a few steps above the Slum in terms of quality, but still far from luxurious. The houses here were also made from wood like those in the Slum, but their construction had been done in a proper manner, and several of them had their own cute little gardens. The streets were, however, completely deserted, which I found to be more than just a bit unsettling.
“I am bringing you to my employer,” he said, without breaking stride or turning to look at me.
I wondered who his employer was, but didn’t bother asking.
I will find out soon enough.
Among the many houses in the Residential District were occasional shops and local restaurants, which, unlike the makeshift stalls in the Marketplace, had permanent residence here. One of such shops was an antique dollmaker’s, which we stopped in front of, though I wasn’t sure why.[1]
Without explanation, Jirō slid open the door and entered. When it became obvious that this was our destination, I quickly followed suit, though more than just a little bit confused.
The inside of the store was fairly disturbing to behold. Rows of shelves on the walls, as well as tables lined around the room, displayed an uncountable number of dolls in many different shapes and sizes. A few even hung from the ceiling, like meat in a butcher’s cold-storage. Some were human-sized, with intricately-carved life-like faces, and some were smaller than my hands, but crafted with painstaking detail, which was no doubt bothersome work. What I found most disturbing about all of this, was that the reflective glass beads, or jewels in some cases, within the eye sockets of the dolls, made it appear as though they were tracking my progress through the store. Amid the gaze of the several hundred dolls, I felt my skin ripple with gooseflesh, and I did my best to avoid looking at any one of them for too long.
The Masked Man was already at the other end of the room, just about to descend a staircase I hadn’t noticed. I hurried over to his side, eager to leave the room, and I could’ve sworn I heard him emit a brief chuckle at my expense.
The wooden steps led down into a basement and each footfall produced a drawn-out creak. Before I’d made it halfway down, a voice hailed my Guide from within the darkness.
“Is that Jirō who goes there?” The voice that sought us out was frail and flawed, like whoever it belonged to was old and disused to speaking.
“I brought you what you asked, Genzō.”
“Only one? What a shame.”
I stopped by the foot of the staircase, staring into the pitch-darkness from which the voices came. From the sounds of it, the basement seemed far bigger than the store upstairs, and I got the feeling that this was some kind of secret base or outpost.
After a moment, my Sight started to activate, and orange lights wormed their way across the walls and floor, limning the contours of my surroundings, but then Jirō lit a candle on the table he was standing by, as well as several more around the room, making my Sight retreat and vanish like a banished shadow.
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My guess turned out to be fairly spot-on, as the glow from the flames revealed a large chamber with some kind of bed on the floor in the corner, several tables with scattered papers and letters on them, as well as a bookcase housing a variety of books, ranging from mythical stories to Chinese works on warfare strategy and philosophy. In the very centre of the room was a table with a large map of the city and its environs. Coloured pieces, like those from a boardgame, were scattered across it: red, white, and blue. The majority of the white pieces were assembled in what looked like the northern part of the city, whereas the red and blue ones were assembled at various points outside the city limits, though a few were also within the city itself: a couple of the red bricks occupying the Slum we’d passed through earlier, and blue ones taking up spots in the western part.
“What is all of this?” I asked, looking at Jirō.
Jirō in turn looked to Genzō, who was currently bent over a scroll of some kind that he’d somehow been reading in the dark before we arrived.
The old man turned around, his baggy, dark-grey yukata sloshing around his thin body as he hobbled across the floor towards the table in the middle, supporting his weight on a gnarled wooden staff.
“Excuse my errand-boy for not explaining it to you first. This is after all a volatile situation we’re dealing with,” the old man began. Although it was impossible to see his expression under the mask, I could tell from the way he shifted his stance that Jirō didn’t much like being referred to by such a title, although he said nothing.
“I’m here because you need mercenaries, right?”
“Yes and no. We aren’t looking for just anybody. We require capable fighters who may aid us in saving our lands from this bloody civil war.”
“What started the conflict? If you don’t mind me asking. I’d prefer to know the full story before I agree to anything.”
“The same as any other war: Greed,” Jirō responded, before the old man had a chance.
“Indeed,” Genzō concurred.
“The leader of the White Tiger clan was too soft in dealing with his rivals and when he didn’t immediately seize on the opportunity to smother the ember of animosity, the two other large clans took it as a sign of weakness and believed that they could do a better job of ruling Kakon-shi and her people.” There was quite some resentment in Jirō’s voice, and I got the sense that this was a touchy subject.
“Do not let anyone else hear you speak like that or it’ll be your head that rolls next.”
Jirō laughed. “I would like to see them try! Besides, you know I’m right, Genzō.”
“I didn’t say I disagreed, but, in times such as these, loyalty is valued higher than wisdom.”
“I take it you’re both part of this White Tiger clan?” I asked, interrupting their little back-and-forth. It was hard to believe these weren’t real people, but just very sophisticated ‘automatons’ constructed by a World Architect and sprinkled with the magic of the Watcher.
“We may have certain misgivings about our current ruler,” Genzō stated. “But we still believe him the most capable man to run this city. The Vermilion Bird and Azure Dragon clans both think they could do a better job of it, but this war was wrought by their hands, not ours. Jirō aside, most of the warriors of the White Tiger are peacekeepers, not executioners. The Vermilion and Azure clans believe that military prowess easily translates to political acumen and that they have what it takes to govern our city, but—”
“They are wrong,” Jirō chimed in.
“And what exactly would you have me do?” I asked them.
Genzō put his wrinkled hands on the edge of the table and smiled, showing his stained teeth. “With my extensive network of spies throughout the city and countryside, I have managed to locate both the Vermilion Bird’s fort and the Azure Dragon’s mansion, as well as their hideouts in the city. The plan was to have an elite group of mercenaries invade their bases at night and cut off the heads of the snakes, extinguishing the flame of war that has roared bright for the last seven years. However, since it was only you who answered to our summons, the plan has to be altered. I will work out a way for you to somehow infiltrate their clans, so that you can get close enough to their leaders to deal the killing blow. But, while I do that, you must go to The Palace. Byakko-sama wishes to vet our prospective mercenaries.”
The old man looked me up-and-down, then shook his head. “Do you have anything more formal than that?” Before I could even reply, he continued, “Of course you don’t… Jirō, when you take her to the Palace, make sure she’s given a bath and some proper clothes.”
“Understood.”
I followed Jirō as he went back up the stairs and left the creepy store full of dolls. Outside, the rain had ceased, and the rooftops and streets were now covered in red, with puddles scattered everywhere. It looked like the aftermath of a massive fight, but based on the lack of reaction from my Guide, I gathered that it was a common occurrence.
A melodic duet of a Koto and Shamisen backed by a Taiko drum suddenly erupted, and a banner sprang to life before my eyes, stating, “Now entering Stage ‘Allegiance’.” I’d forgotten that it was still possible to enter a Stage while in a Safe Zone, so it caught me by surprise and sent my heart into a panicked flutter.
I looked around, while the string duet sounded through the air, startled by the announcement and imagining enemies descending upon us from the shadows of the nearby buildings.
For several minutes, I scrutinised every building, alley, and street that we passed, but no one engaged us, so I eventually relaxed, though I didn’t let down my guard entirely. My left hand remained on the scabbard at my hip, prepared for anything.
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[1] Part of me figured that Jirō just had really odd hobbies, which, considering his outfit, wouldn’t be too far-fetched an idea.