Chapter 13.
“The Empire of Eiyu faces an existential threat from Catay, which aims to dominate the continent and expel the powers from across the sea. Catay has a population of over 400 million, while Eiyu has only about 70 million. This numerical disproportion makes it impossible for us to compete with those savages in a conventional war, so a different strategy is required.”
“Eiyu must take advantage of its technological, military and cultural superiority to inflict maximum damage on the enemy at the lowest cost to itself. To do this, it is necessary to massively recruit citizens, especially young people, to form an army of millions of soldiers willing to sacrifice themselves for the emperor and the nation. These soldiers will be trained in the use of reiki. They will also be indoctrinated in the spirit of bushido, our nation’s code of honor, which teaches them to be loyal, brave and to despise death.”
“The Second War”
War Stories: Catay
Written by Marshal Katsura Nogi during the third siege of Xi’an
Hajime Miyagawa hurried through the hallways of the imperial palace. His heart was pounding in his chest. He had received an urgent message from the empress, summoning him to her personal chamber. Apparently, there was news about the search for the so-called Yellow King.
The Yellow King, that was the name given to the leader of a secret sect that sought to overthrow the empire. He was said to be a powerful and cruel man, capable of controlling the minds of the weak and sowing terror with his abilities.
No one knew his real name or appearance.
All that was known was that he wore a yellow mask and had many followers willing to die for him.
His former mentor, Marshal Yoshijiro, was in charge of finding and capturing the Yellow King. According to his letters, Hideki Miyoshi, one of his men, had been following false leads and blurred trails for months, without obtaining any results.
But now, at last, there seemed to be hope.
The eunuchs opened the doors of each of the rooms upon his arrival. No one dared to stand in his way.
Everyone knew who he was and what he did. Everyone feared and respected him.
Miyagawa stopped before the doors of the imperial chamber, where two imposing figures awaited him. They were Yutaka Nishimura and Jun Kato, the leaders of the Blood Spiders and the Imperial Guard, respectively.
Both were trusted men of the empress, and also her most fearsome executioners. They were the only ones who could open the doors of the chamber, and would do so only if the empress ordered it.
He greeted them with a bow, and they returned the gesture with a slight nod. Without a word, they opened the doors to let him pass, and closed them behind him with a dull sound.
The imperial chamber was a large and luxurious room, decorated with silk tapestries, wool carpets and lacquered wooden furniture. At the back, behind an ebony table, sat the empress, whose otherworldly beauty took one’s breath away. Her face, of an almost painful perfection, seemed sculpted in white jade: high and delicate cheekbones, perfectly outlined crimson lips, and almond-shaped amber eyes that shone with the intensity of a thousand suns. Her long blue-black hair fell like a silk waterfall to her waist, adorned with intricate gold and green jade brooches. She wore a blue silk kimono embroidered with golden dragons that enhanced her slender and elegant figure, and a red fan with which she fanned herself impatiently.
The empress was not alone: To her right was her brother, Prince Kaito, whose masculine beauty rivaled that of his sister. Tall and majestic in bearing, he possessed the same perfect features that characterized the imperial family: amber eyes framed by dark lashes, chiseled jaw, and blue-black hair that fell in elegant locks over his forehead. His haughty and arrogant expression only managed to accentuate his aristocratic attractiveness. To her left was Chiyo Kaba, the Minister of Shadows, a hunched and wrinkled old woman, but with intelligent and penetrating eyes.
Miyagawa recognized them immediately, they were two of the empress’s most influential advisors, but not the young man who was in a corner of the room, looking at the floor timidly. He was a boy of about twenty, with brown hair and pale skin, dressed in a simple tunic without any distinctive marks. He seemed nervous and uncomfortable, as if he didn’t know what to do or where to look.
He looked at the empress and bowed deeply, showing his respect and submission.
“You’ve arrived, it’s about time,” she snapped in a cold, cutting voice. “Did you have any setbacks on the way?”
“I came as fast as I could, majesty,” he apologized humbly. “I didn’t want to keep you waiting a moment longer.”
She made a gesture with her hand, as if she wanted to forget that matter.
“That’s not important now,” she said, then pointed to the boy in the corner. “First I want to introduce someone. This is Jurou, my new personal secretary. I need someone of absolute trust to help me with the letters. He’s been with me for a few days now and seems very... competent at what he does.”
Miyagawa looked at the young man in the corner and gave him a slight nod. The boy returned the gesture timidly.
“Her new lover”. It was no secret that the empress was not a chaste person.
There were rumors, like poisonous vines, that clung to her name, gossip that accused her of forbidden relationships and dark loves. There were even whispers of a twisted connection with her own brother, a shadow that darkened the imperial family.
The empress turned to the table and pointed to the letter with her index finger.
“But now we must deal with this letter,” she said firmly. “It’s time to know what the marshal tells us.”
And she pointed with her index finger to the table where the missive was. It was an envelope sealed with the marshal’s seal. Everyone looked at it with expectation and fear, but no one dared to take it and read it aloud. Not even him.
The empress frowned and looked at him impatiently.
“What are you waiting for?” she ordered in a harsh voice. “Read the letter. I want to know what the marshal tells us.”
Miyagawa swallowed and reached for the letter. He picked it up carefully and broke the seal. He unfolded the paper and brought it close to his eyes. He recognized his mentor’s handwriting, firm and clear. Then, he began to read aloud.
“My dear Empress, I am very sorry to have to trouble you with such grim news. But certain events have taken place, events that you must know about. I know you are eager to know the outcome of my search for the Yellow King. I write to inform you that Hideki Miyoshi, the man of my utmost trust whom I sent to search for that madman, has failed.
He paused and looked up.
He only saw faces of frustration.
“Continue,” ordered the empress.
So, he did.
“He was ambushed in the mountains, though he managed to escape. His men were not so lucky. We found them later, with their tongues cut out and their eyes sewn shut. Their minds were destroyed. They babbled incessantly, we had to give them merciful death. They all wore a scroll around their neck with a single word: War.”
The silence in the room was sepulchral. The faces of those present reflected horror and consternation. The empress was pale, her knuckles white from the pressure on the arms of the throne. Her brother had his fists clenched and his jaw tense. Chiyo Kaba remained impassive, her eyes narrowed in a cold gaze. Jurou was trembling, his lips pressed into a line.
He felt a lump in his throat, but forced his voice to continue.
“I fear this false prophet has unified the warlords against us. We must prepare for battle.”
The empress took a porcelain cup from the table and threw it to the floor. The sound of the impact resonated in the room like thunder. The white fragments scattered across the red tapestry like the petals of a withered flower.
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The woman contemplated the broken remains with flashing eyes. A lock of hair as black as a raven’s wing escaped from her elaborate hairstyle and fell over her forehead, framing features that even enraged retained a fragile beauty.
“Damn him!” she screamed in a torn voice. “How could this have happened?”
Her brother approached her with cautious steps and touched her shoulder gently.
“Calm down, sister,” he tried to soothe her with a soft voice. “Now is not the time to lose our nerves. We must act with prudence and wisdom.”
The empress shook off his grip with a brusque gesture and fixed her gaze on him, full of disdain and fury.
“Prudence? Wisdom? What are you talking about?” she spat the words with contempt. “Soon, the whole world will be in flames. A war is coming, a war we cannot win. The Yellow King is more powerful than us. He has allies everywhere, he has legions of soldiers who follow him blindly. He’s going to crush us like insects, and you know it.”
The empress paced back and forth, with agitated breathing and clenched fists.
“The Taiko, that useless old man, has done nothing but weaken our empire and our army for decades. He has wasted our resources, he has ignored our traditions, he has allowed corruption to spread everywhere. He doesn’t deserve the title of regent. He doesn’t deserve to live.”
He knew she was right, at least in part. Eiyu’s power had waned in recent years, victim of a game of thrones divided into two factions, like two currents clashing in the same river.
The Taiko, wrapped in the pomp of his castle in the Inner Walls, ruled with the authority of a negligent king. At his side, old and outdated counselors swarmed like hungry crows, concerned only with filling their pockets and maintaining their privileges.
Meanwhile, the empress, protector and mother of the child emperor, tried to govern from the Forbidden City, although there was little she could do without the Taiko’s approval. Her influence was limited to palace affairs and court intrigues. Her voice was barely heard outside the sacred walls.
Chiyo Kaba intervened with a voice as firm as her frail body allowed her.
“Don’t be so pessimistic, empress,” she said. “We still have options. We have a loyal and brave army, we have resources. We can resist the Yellow King if we unite.”
The empress mocked her words.
“Unite?” she asked with a cynical smile. “The Taiko controls everything, and I am nothing more than a decorative figure, a ‘shadow without will’. If the Yellow King comes, he will raze everything in his path. And I won’t even be able to protect my own son. Only Marshal Yoshijiro is loyal to me. The other useless ones only follow the orders of our ‘Supreme Regent’, who doesn’t even see the danger this madman represents. Taking this letter to him and reading it humiliated before him will change nothing.”
“You’re right about the Taiko, empress,” he spoke carefully. “I know him well. He’s an old man who wants to avoid an unnecessary war. He believes he can maintain the peace and prosperity of Eiyu without doing anything. It’s unlikely he’ll do anything despite the marshal’s letter.”
The empress looked at him with fury.
“I already know that!” she snapped, then jumped up and pointed to the door. “Everyone out!” she shouted. “Out of my sight! I don’t want to see you anymore! You only bring me misfortunes!”
One by one, they stood up, bowing respectfully to the empress before beginning to leave the room with unusual haste. The rustle of their robes and the hurried murmurs filled the air, leaving behind a trail of agitation and disorder.
Hajime Miyagawa vanished in the corridors like a shadow, but before losing himself among the wooden arches and the flashes of paper lamps, his eyes captured a last instant.
It was the figure of the Empress, throwing herself into her brother’s arms with a passion that contrasted with the fury that had possessed her moments before. Their bodies melted into a desperate embrace, and inaudible whispers were lost in the echo, a mystery that remained suspended in the air, destined not to be revealed.
***
The empire had changed a lot in the last three hundred years. It was no longer the same as the one that had come to the continent from the distant Islands of Origin, with its red-armored samurai and steel swords. It was no longer the same as the one that had conquered kingdoms and founded cities, that had brought order and civilization to the wild lands.
The empire had expanded too much. Its borders had extended as far as the eye could see, and beyond, and that brought problems. Its enemies multiplied like stars in the night sky.
Its problems accumulated like snow in winter.
To the north and northeast, the barbarian tribes resisted submission, and attacked caravans and border posts. To the south, beyond the great Chang Jiang River, the tropical lands were a hell of heat, humidity and diseases, where the natives hid between the jungle and the swamps.
To the west, the remnants of ancient Catay had reorganized under a new leader, the so-called “Yellow King”, who threatened to recover what the empire had taken from them. And everywhere, the silk routes were coveted by bandits and pirates, who stalked the merchants who brought the riches and wonders of the west.
In short, now the empire was bigger, richer, more powerful.
But also more vulnerable, more complex, more difficult to govern.
The old system of peasant militias no longer worked.
Simple farmers could not be expected to leave their fields and families to go fight against enemies they had never seen. They could not be trusted to have the discipline, training or equipment necessary to face the challenges of modern warfare.
Nor could they turn to the samurai of the Islands of Origin, as they had done in the past. The last ones had died decades ago, and those born there were grandchildren or great-grandchildren of those who had crossed the sea.
Those false samurai had lost touch with their roots and no longer had the warrior spirit of their ancestors. They were used to peace and luxury, to culture and trade. They were not interested in leaving their home to venture into a hostile and unknown world.
The empire needed a new type of soldier. One who was loyal, brave, skilled and obedient. One who was willing to serve the empire with his life, regardless of the cost. One who was capable of adapting to the changing conditions of the battlefield, of using the most advanced reiki skills and tactics, of cooperating with his comrades and following the orders of his superiors.
That type of soldier was the reikan.
The chosen among the chosen.
Those privileged ones who had had the honor of graduating from the Imperial Military Academy and who had learned to control reiki, the vital energy that flowed through all things. This power allowed them to do incredible things, like healing wounds, creating shields, throwing fire or manipulating the earth. The reikan were the guardians of the empire, the protectors of the emperor, the heroes of the people.
But there was a problem. They were few, very few.
Years of peace and complacency had convinced the various taikos and emperors that it was not necessary to encourage their recruitment. After all, who would dare to challenge the empire? What enemy could face its legions?
Deep down, he could understand the Empire’s stance regarding reiki. Allowing the plebs to have access to such power would be problematic. Many would use it selfishly, to loot and kill. They might even rebel against imperial authority. Reiki was a divine gift, which should be granted only to those of loyal spirit, or at least that’s what tradition said.
Miyagawa let out a sigh.
“Tradition... always tradition holding back progress, strangling necessary change”.
The enemies of the empire, those who moved in the shadows, had no time for such nonsense. In the distant lands of Catay, rumors spread like the waves of the sea in search of unknown beaches.
It was said that this false king had ordered his shamans to instruct all his subjects in the art of reiki, without distinguishing between social class or merits. All with a specific purpose, a cause that floated in the air like an ominous omen: the annihilation of Eiyu.
Miyagawa clenched his fists in frustration.
While Eiyu stubbornly clung to old customs, its rivals grew stronger, evolved. The balance of power tilted against them.
Of course, it was impossible to compete with that. But Hajime Miyagawa would not give up so easily. He knew he could not match the number or fanaticism of the Yellow King’s soldiers, but he trusted in the quality and discipline of his own.
“We must adapt or die,” he reflected. “We need warriors, not scholars attached to dusty scrolls.”
“Tell me, director, do you think about death?” he asked.
The man looked at him in surprise. He was the director of the Imperial Military Academy, a prestigious but also bureaucratic position.
“Every mortal does,” he replied cautiously.
“And what do you feel about it?” he insisted.
The director frowned.
“I feel... respect. Fear. Curiosity. Why do you ask me this?”
Miyagawa took a sip of wine. The alcohol was not going to make his problems disappear, but at least it would attenuate them a bit.
And tonight, he needed to relax.
He had come to talk to the director about an important matter, but first he wanted to know him better.
“Because I want to know if you’re a man of action or words,” he explained. “Because I want to know if you’re willing to do what’s necessary to save the empire.”
“What do you mean?” he asked nervously.
Miyagawa leaned towards him and spoke seriously.
“I want you to change the education method of the reikan,” he indicated. “I want the browns who pass the rank exams to have a different training from the rest.”
“What kind of training?” asked the director warily.
He smiled slightly.
“Real training,” he said. “Training that tests them, that makes them grow, that makes them strong. Training that turns them into true warriors.”
“And how do you plan to do that?” asked the director skeptically.
He took a scroll from his robe and handed it to the director.
“These are the names of several reikan of my total trust,” he explained. “They are the best in their respective specialties. I have personally selected them to be the instructors of the new reikan. Those who pass and rise in rank will be immediately put into teams under their command.”
The director took the paper and read it carefully, then bit his lip.
“This breaks with centuries of protocol,” he finally said. “The Imperial Military Academy has a tradition and a reputation to maintain. We can’t change the education method just like that!”
“We can and we must,” insisted Miyagawa. “Times change, Hideo, and we must change with them. Protocol will be of no use to us if we lose the war.”
The director hesitated, his eyes seeking answers in the folds of the paper between his fingers.
“But... the Taiko should approve these changes,” the director protested weakly. “Military matters are under his jurisdiction. Does he know of your plans?”
Miyagawa took another sip of wine.
“The Taiko is irrelevant. The Academy is on the grounds of the Forbidden City, under the Empress’s authority. She appointed me supervisor for my talent. She trusts me without reservations.”
The director frowned.
“Even so, such a drastic change requires Her Majesty’s approval,” he suggested. “We should...”
“The Empress doesn’t need to know,” Miyagawa interrupted. “She has more urgent concerns. You must trust me, old friend. I do it for the good of the Empire.”
The director touched his beard, thoughtful.
“The students... many won’t survive such a harsh regime,” he murmured.
Miyagawa scoffed.
“Those who survive will be ready,” he stated. “The weak will die. That’s how war is, Hideo. There’s no place for cowards. Only for those with the will to survive at any cost.”