The sight of the disfigured trader was unnervingly grim, and was one that Fuu felt more than a sliver of shame for finding comfort in. Gathering information in the dark and empty streets of Keisato had not been easy, but Yu had eventually managed to glean their target’s whereabouts from one of the many patrolling soldiers around the town walls, leading them directly to the front gate where the broken man hung. Secured with thick rope, his arms were tied at an unnatural angle behind his back and ridden with rows of blue-black bruises, no different to those upon his ashen face and abdomen. Beside him was a cobalt-scaled snake that had been pinned to the platform upon which he kneeled. Nails had been hammered through its body, the first at the tip of its tail and the last through the reptile’s mouth. As with the nearby women at each side of the town’s main gate, Genjo’s naked body was exposed to the freezing cold with crude characters that had been carved into his deathly pale skin to spell out the word ‘THIEF’. Fuu called the man’s name several times before he was roused from the soporose state he appeared locked in. His torn lips moved wordlessly.
“I need to ask you a few questions,” Fuu explained, edging closer to the raised wooden platform. Genjo regarded her with a hard stare before closing his eyes once more. She frowned.
“Is he really in any shape for you to be interrogating him?” asked Yu.
“I want the answers regardless of whether it is convenient for him or not. Cut him loose,” Fuu ordered with a nod.
With a smooth breath, Yu lifted himself onto the rough-cut platform and allowed one of his thin daggers to slip from his sleeve into his palm. The blade’s edge bit through the rope cleanly and Genjo instantly collapsed. With nothing left to support his precarious position, the man’s face slammed heavily into the splintered wood beneath him. If his nose was not broken by the peacekeepers’ beating, it most certainly had been after that.
“What now? I don’t expect there’ll be another ferry for some time, and it’ll bring more trouble than it’s worth to carry him around the town all night.”
“We simply need to find somewhere quiet and warm. He can go his own way once we have finished with him,” Fuu replied. With her help, Yu hauled the merchant to the ground before removing his warm woollen fleece and draping it around the man’s shoulders.
A booming yell intercepted their return to the front gate. Moving toward them in rapid strides was a peacekeeper, imposingly tall and clad in thin blue plates of lacquered steel that reflected the glow of the lantern upon his waist.
“So it is as I expected,” he said with no attempt to hide his animosity. “Why, I wonder, are you so determined to set free this sickly Won vermin?”
Bathed in the orange firelight was a thin, crooked nose and a jawline sharper than a knife, features that Fuu recognised as belonging to the man that had directed them to the merchant.
“Do you think that our treatment of their kind is too cruel, too inhumane? Don’t. They are not human, but a swarm of parasites that has infested our home, selfishly feeding upon the blood and hard work of our people. Perhaps you'd like to know why the punishment for theft is so harsh?”
Fuu gave no answer. Knowing the cause for which these foreigners have their rules would be pointless, will the result not be the same regardless of its reason? Quickly and subtly, she scanned the surroundings ahead of them for any additional peacekeepers that might impede the night’s plans. Her stature straightened upon realising that the guard stood alone.
“The word ‘thief’ is no more than a label for the liars you see strung to their poles. They filtered through our borders like flies to festering meat under the guise of starving refugees. Won's needy and helpless do not hesitate to steal from the mouths of our children, and they actively undermine the military and agricultural power of our Daimyō. Honest Sen farmers, beaten and robbed by Won brigands, their tools and land pillaged. My soldiers have seized opium and other unsavoury substances being smuggled into our forts and roaming camps. These refugees are a scattered plague that acts with a singular mind, and whoever is directing has been trying their damndest to sow disorder among our ranks.”
“Your soldiers?” Fuu finally responded.
“Yes, my soldiers. You speak to one Dōsaku Inoue, infantry commander of the Mizūmi Prefecture. I had received word that our Lord had hosted the Emperor himself, along with a group of unusual individuals. I had not expected them to act so foolishly.”
Yu stepped forward, “Have you been following us?”
“No, nor would it be necessary. Even in a marketplace frequented by all manner of oddities, you are still a nail that sticks out, Jie of Han. Why you are here does not concern me, a guest of the Daimyō should be treated as the Daimyō himself, but what you have done here tonight is something that I cannot ignore. It would be helpful if you’d share some insight into what you want with this frost-chilled scumsack, otherwise our pleasantries shall have to end here,” Inoue prompted, offering a glimpse of the unusual weapon in his hands. Clasped with his right was a small hand sickle, its blade honed to a deathly sharpness, and in his left was a heavy iron ball. Both were connected by a long iron chain more than a metre in length.
“I might have been inclined to tell you, were your eyes not so murderous. In all honesty, was there ever any plan to spare us?” Fuu smirked wryly.
“No, I don’t suppose there was,” Inoue shrugged. “I couldn’t ignore the opportunity to sever the neck of Han’s future, but a fight is always more interesting with a build-up. Wouldn’t you agree, Lady Jie?” Inoue’s eyes flashed open, and with a wild grin, he unleashed the power of the chain’s iron ball. Seemingly slow at first, the hunk of metal accelerated in a wide arc around the large man, creating an impassable barrier that threatened to crush bone with each consecutive swing. With no time to lay Genjo neatly on the ground, Yu shoved him aside and brandished both daggers in a defensive stance. Unarmed, Fuu cautiously backed away.
“I cannot thank you enough, Dōsaku,” said a voice she could barely recognise as Yu. He exposed entire rows of teeth in a smile so wide that split his face nearly in half. “So long has it been since last I danced that I can feel my very joints rusting from disuse.”
“Perhaps a touch of percussive therapy would remedy the problem?” Inoue laughed in turn, spurred on by his opponent’s enthusiasm. With his next breath, he lunged forward, bringing the iron ball hurtling toward Yu’s head. The handservant adjusted his body just enough for the projectile to hit the ground with a dull thump. There was no doubt in Fuu’s mind that if the strike had made contact, his skull would offer no resistance against such crushing momentum. Taking full advantage of the opportunity, Yu dashed forward and manoeuvred to the soldier’s unarmed side quicker than Fuu’s mind could process the sight. Inoue recoiled as Yu stabbed at the space between his ribs. A red-glistening knife cut through the space separating the two men. Taking a step backwards, Yu probed the fresh gash across his lower neck with a fingertip and found a warm welling of blood. It was a sight that triggered something primal within Fuu.
“Yu!” cried the Jishu, abandoning the side of Genjo and slicing like an arrow through the air toward the fight. Twisting his head in disbelief, Yu gritted his teeth and made a vain swipe with the tip of a dagger, but the distance between them was too great and the window of opportunity long since lost. He leapt backward just as the iron ball came barrelling toward his shins.
Inoue pointed with his knife in distaste, “You certainly are agile. Men like you care too much about fleeting around to put up a truly enjoyable fight.”
“Please do not dictate how I choose to dance, dear Dōsaku, it is ever so rude,” Yu responded, extending an arm to hold Fuu at bay. He regarded her with a disappointed frown, “What are you doing?
“You were hurt- I-” she stuttered.
“The chances of that happening again drastically increase if you continue to interfere. Move, if you would?” he dismissed her with a wave of his hand. Inoue seized upon the momentary distraction, lunging again in a similar fashion, though this time made no effort to hit his target. Having evaded Dōsaku’s feint, Yu began closing in to counter and found himself trapped in the iron ball’s path as it came around in a second swing. The daggers he raised to defend himself were worthless against the devastating blow; an orb of solid metal nestled itself within the hand servant’s ribcage. The crack and pop of his shattering ribs was very clearly audible. Fuu cried out, but Inoue was the first to rush to Yu’s side, his sickle and knife poised for a finishing strike.
Something switched in Fuu’s mind, and despite being unarmed, she descended upon the soldier in an instant. She did not feel the knife’s point dig into the flesh above her breast- her attention was locked onto the burning lantern fastened to Inoue’s waist. The flame inside the metal casing flared as her fingers brushed against it, instantly expanding into a red fireball. A swipe of her hand broke the fire free from its cage, dragging the blazing light through the air and into the soldier’s unprotected face. He was fortunate to be clean shaven, for any bristles of facial hair would have been instantly disintegrated by the current of flame that rushed against his skin. The saliva evaporated from Inoue’s mouth the moment he opened his mouth to scream. A swift strike to his temple separated the man from his consciousness.
“How are they?” Fuu asked.
Yu prodded at his ribs. A grimace reappeared upon his face, “I’m not sure they should wobble like this.”
“Are they broken?”
He offered her a queer look, and without breaking his gaze, poked a finger into his chest. His teeth clenched tightly as his finger sank to the second knucklebone.
“Might just be bruised,” he murmured dryly.
After retreating from the town’s outer perimeter, the merchant had guided Fuu and Yu through the use of vague gestures to his shop where they had taken shelter for the night, though it now lay in a sorry state. Ornaments that had once adorned shelves and tabletops had been shattered against the ground into a motley mosaic of ceramic shards. It was in the building’s small attic that the three nursed their wounds, well out of sight of the increasing patrols along the market street. Yu had applied a makeshift bandage to her stab wound in spite of her concerns over his own haggard condition. Inoue’s knife had gone deeper than either of them had realised and pierced several inches of flesh, though fortunately stopped short of any crucial implements. The commander had inflicted upon her no small modicum of pain even without counting her spoiled dress, and she could hardly bear to think of the prospective scar that would mar the pale skin beneath. As for Genjo, thoroughly shaken by the numbing cold of winter, he had wrapped himself in several layers of straw matting in the corner of the room where he sat alone and unmoving. To prevent frostbite, Yu had bathed the merchant’s stiff fingers and toes in lukewarm water, at which he had whimpered pitifully. It was then that Yu discovered the man’s tongue had been severed. A fleshy, bloody stump remained in its place, but Fuu was doubtful that it would offer her the answers she needed.
When Yu returned to her side, she wrapped her arms around him like a python while willfully ignoring his pained grunts. Together they remained still, each comforted by the other’s embrace, until the flickering candlelight grew dim enough for the both of them to drift into a deep recuperating sleep.
Sporadic gunshots broke the silence of the night. Fuu found herself roused on more than one occasion by the abnormal sounds, unable to believe that the residents of the area could sleep under such circumstances. Almost as if to spite her stance, however, Yu continued to soundly sleep without so much as a stir. An hour or more of weary delirium passed before Fuu was finally able to convince herself that the distant explosions were from the harmless circuit of travelling ferries, gradually allowing herself back into the realm of slumbering peace.
The early light did not dawn within the dark walls of the shop’s attic. Even so, it became clear moments after waking up that the merchant was missing. Fuu closed her eyes and snuggled into the warmth of her lover, though disappointed, she had already decided that nothing of worth had been lost in the trader’s disappearance. Why waste this morning of momentary comfort?
Minutes later, her previous assumption was proven false when Genjo ascended the ladder to rejoin them in the attic. He was neatly clothed in a cheap-looking blue yukata robe covered by a thick woollen jumper to ward off the cold and almost had an appearance of normality. Waking Yu with a gentle shake, he returned the white fleece he had been given the night before.
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
“I thought you had gone, that perhaps you had fled while we slept,” Fuu admitted. Genjo’s bruised face could barely maintain his quizzical expression. He revealed a small notebook in his hand complete with a pen and began to scribble several words onto the first page before turning the book to show her.
“Where would I have gone?” it read. The words were scrawled as if by a child.
“Anywhere away from us,” Fuu answered. Genjo began to write once more.
“Away from you, and toward the peacekeepers. To them, the very presence of Won is a provocation. I would be throwing away my life and the lives of those depending on me.”
“Your friends, the thieves?” Yu asked, but Genjo shook his head. “Then who?”
“The last of those I love. My family is broken, scattered across the continent, I do what is necessary to support the few that remain.”
“Why come here in the first place? Why leave Won?”
“Our years have been paved with mistakes and misfortune. After the Verdant Cradle was usurped by the new Sky-Chosen, we took up arms, but were hunted and driven from our country into the lands of our enemies. None of us are here by choice.”
“So you do know about them.” Fuu straightened her posture, finally interested in what the man had to say. “Then tell me- who are the thieves of Keisato?”
Genjo hesitated for a moment, but continued writing nonetheless.
“They might kill me for telling you, but as things stand, there aren’t many that wouldn’t. The ‘thieves’ are more than just a band of petty criminals, they’re part of an army of refugees- a reaving division. They’ve ravaged the smaller villages and farmsteads around the Mizūmi Prefecture for food and supplies to support their leader, but also act to disrupt the movements and inventories of the local military. In the towns, they employ thieving tactics to gather valuables that can be sold by fences.”
“Such as you were?”
“Out of obligation rather than choice. I need the money from the stolen goods just as much as they do.”
“But if they are organised enough to act on such a large scale, where is that all of that money going?”
“To their leader, Esengei Möngke, and to their operations in the Mizūmi Prefecture. Esengei is a dangerous man and his ambitions are only bolstered by the Ancestral Sigil upon his neck.”
“He has a Mandate of Heaven?” Yu interrupted with a raised voice.
“And with it, he intends to seize the town and prefecture both,” Fuu concluded. “This is not something I wish to involve myself in. We should return to the Daimyō’s home in the ravine town and wait for Lord Naga there.” Facing Genjo once more, she continued, “Stay here for now, I doubt Lord Inutani would react well to a visit from one of the refugees he so dislikes. I promise I shall try my hardest to ensure you leave this town a safe and free man. With any luck, either he or Lord Naga may be willing to offer some support to your family as compensation for your assistance.”
Genjo bowed his head carefully at the prospect.
Yu stepped between the two, “Before that, however, there is one last question I’d like to ask you. Is there anything you can tell me about Sukh Mengu?”
Genjo made no attempt to hide his disdain. “Dead, if we are so lucky,” he wrote. “He spurred half a nation to go to war against the Sky-Chosen. We’re all that’s left.”
Preparing for the return journey to Lord Inutani’s abode was a drawn out and rather tedious episode throughout which Yu, finally feeling the full effect of his broken ribs, struggled to make his way to the entrance of Genjo’s ransacked shop. He had needed Fuu’s assistance when dressing himself in his fleece, and while she was perfectly content with doing so, she had already begun to work herself into an anxious state about both his condition and her own. It seemed it would be difficult enough for him to make the descent into the ravine town, but an even greater concern lay in the watchful eyes of the town’s peacekeepers that would be unlikely to miss Yu’s unusually stiff walk and the awfully sore gash that stained the bosom of her jacket and fuchsia dress with dark, dried blood. Drawing any attention to themselves could very quickly escalate into a public confrontation. If the events the night prior were anything to go by, Fuu knew any such encounters would undoubtedly end in catastrophe.
For all of her fears, the market street appeared to be subdued under the morning’s blanketing downfall of snow. White flakes floated weightlessly as an opaque fog throughout the trading post, reducing visibility to less than a hundred yards. They trod swiftly through the poor conditions, though with enough care to maintain composure in the face of the few traders and fewer visitors that persisted in the unwelcoming weather.
Fuu caught sight of a familiar face among the crowds gathered at the docks. There were far more standing in wait for a ferry than there had been the day before. Many huddled together like baby birds, others isolated themselves, blowing hot air into their hands to feel some measure of warmth. All wore their faces of discontent. A small detachment of peacekeepers clad in their blue lacquered armour spoke loudly and sternly from the far end of the docks in their apparently unsuccessful attempt to ward off the gathering townsmen.
Rising above most of the crowd and drawing a number of queer looks was a head of emerald hair, those long tresses so uniquely familiar. Sio Ko had reached Keisato. Fuu hailed her, to which she allowed a small smile.
“There seems to be a shortage of boats today. On an enclosed lake, it makes you wonder where they’ve gone. I can’t say I really have the patience for this myself,” the host commented as she circled the queuing passengers. Her eyes widened near unnoticeably as she cast an examining sweep over Fuu and her servant. “A nasty wound. You’ve seen better days.”
Fuu gave a slight bow, “The knife did not agree with me. It is good to see you again, though I must say I am surprised you have rejoined us so soon. Were you not headed east?”
“I was, and I did. Now I’m here. There's been a slight deviation in our war strategy. What I’m here for is short and simple, but it seems that fate isn’t fond of simplicity.”
“May I ask what this deviation entails?” Yu asked.
“I was asked to meet with a man named Möngke. Supposedly he’s down there, somewhere in the ravine town.”
“Esengei Möngke? The thieves’ leader?”
“Is that what they call him?” Sio replied, disinterested. Her attention seemed to be focused elsewhere. “Has it started yet?”
Fuu exchanged an uncertain glance with Yu.
He spoke first, “Has what started?”
Sio turned to peer through the thick snowstorm toward Steep Lake. The ravine lay far beyond sight.
“The birth of a new nation beneath a banner of thieves. It’s quite exciting, really,” she answered in a tone that didn’t match her words.
“I see,” Yu nodded slowly, understanding no more than he had before.
“Do you?” she mused. After a few minutes of pause, she spoke again, “The ferries don’t appear to be returning. How inconvenient.”
“Doesn’t seem like they will for a while, either,” added an unfamiliar voice. A boy appeared from the crowd behind Sio, sharp-faced and somewhere in his mid teens. “The town is already taken.”
Sio sighed, “Of course it is. They couldn’t have waited another few hours?”
Fuu shook her head, “What do you mean by ‘taken’?”
“Taken, as in taken by force against the will of its inhabitants. Seized. Stolen. Taken as in it doesn’t belong to them anymore.”
Yu took a step forward, “Who are you to speak so rudely to the heir of Han? State your name.”
The boy widened his eyes in mock surprise, “Forgive me Miss Jishu, I do apologise for answering your question.” He bore his white teeth in a grin.
“Who are you?” Yu demanded again, seizing the boy by the front of his insulated coat. Fuu didn’t miss the suppressed grimace on her lover’s face.
“Kana,” he answered simply. “That's my name, now would you be so kind as to release me? I'm not here to fight you.”
“No? Then why did you come?”
“Why?” Kana's gaze flickered between Yu and Sio. He answered lazily with a pointed finger at the emerald-haired host, “To sever her head.”
Yu frowned, looking to Sio for an answer.
“Kana’s reasoning is irrelevant for the time being, as are my reasons for allowing his presence. His loyalty will serve our purpose here. That’s all.”
Fuu pushed between the boy and her servant. “What exactly is your purpose here, Sio? What business do you have with this thieving band of refugees?”
Before the host could answer, Kana slipped behind Fuu and guided her by the shoulders until she faced the restless townsmen swarming the docks. Yu watched him with a deathly glare.
“That band of refugees has managed to seep through every line of defence set in place by the Daimyō,” the boy whispered. “They’ve taken the lives of anyone that might oppose their invasion and almost seamlessly replaced Keisato’s town guard. They aren’t docile, and whoever is leading them isn’t someone that can be ignored.”
“What are you even talking about?” Fuu asked, squirming free of his grip.
“The peacekeepers,” Sio answered for him. “Look at them. Listen. They order their enemies with foreign tongues. Though they wear the raiment of our people, they cannot speak in their voices.”
“You know just by their accents? Then how has nobody else noticed?”
“Some have. That’s why I said almost seamlessly,” Kana shrugged. “Though I doubt it’ll help them now. No doubt the refugees have already dispatched anyone they deemed a threat.”
“Then what are we supposed to-?” Fuu’s words trailed off at the same moment that Sio stepped out onto the lake. Holding steadily beneath her slippers, the water’s calm surface almost solidified as each step came into contact. She walked several paces alongside the jetty before glancing back at the others.
“You may join me if you wish. I’ll do the heavy lifting. Hurry along though, it’s unlikely the new peacekeepers will approve of our watertop stroll.”
Fuu was the first to join Sio on the surface of the lake. The water was a crystalline plane beneath her, reverting to a state of fluidity the moment she broke contact.
“Lin is no longer with you, is she?” Sio asked, her eyes focused ahead.
“No. She departed last night with Lord Naga and his aide. They were headed west,” Fuu recalled.
“And so she is,” murmured the host.
Even with the snow filtering down from the bleak sky, it was obvious from a distance that something out of the ordinary had taken place in the ravine town. Empty ferries filled empty drainage channels, their boatmen nowhere in sight. Uncertainty welled within the Jishu as they approached ever closer, but she put the feeling to the back of her mind when she leapt down into the passage of smooth, damp stone. Her landing onto the perilously slippery surface was less graceful than she would have liked. Brushing herself off and taking a moment to lament the damp patch now decorating her rear, she continued with haste to the cliffside staircase. The ravine town was obscured by the snowflakes that continued to twirl without a care, decorating her with a white dusting but dispersing instantly as it landed in the residual waters surrounding them. A glance into the ravine was a glance into an unending white abyss.
Sio paused momentarily at the first corner of the staircase. “Do you hear that?”
Fuu strained to listen, hearing only the sounds of light wind and water. She shook her head, “What is it that I should be listening for?”
“Whatever you wish. You’d be hard-pressed to hear it.”
Fuu could not understand the meaning of the host’s words as they descended deeper into the ravine but very quickly came to realise their truth upon setting foot onto the wooden walkway that led into the town. Bodies lay in the branching streets. There were tens, perhaps hundreds of cold, lifeless corpses littering the second layer, and after pushing through piles of mothers and fathers with their sons and daughters, one thing became clear- death did not discriminate.
There was little question regarding the cause of the residents’ sudden demise. Frozen puddles of vomit and blood and faecal matter decorated the thick, sturdy sleepers that lined Ginzōji’s Path. Solidified lines of bile and sanguine spittle had dribbled over chins and cheeks onto their clothes and the floor beneath them. This was the work of alt ükhel, she knew, a horrific poison cultivated from the deceivingly beautiful petals of Won’s national flower. Fuu covered her nose as she caught the scent of the sickly stench. She was grateful for the cold weather, for although her nostrils were becoming a little sore, she could not bring herself to imagine how truly intolerable the foul odour would have become in the heat of summer.
“What depraved thoughts could have brought this… this about?” Fuu fumbled with her words. Sio took a few moments to reply, her thumb tapping each of her fingertips in a sequence.
“Desperation and depravity are easily intertwined. When you stand the position of conqueror, are your thoughts focused on the enemy’s wellbeing or your own?”
Fuu’s vision was red. “There will no longer be a need to focus on their wellbeing when they are cast into the depths of this ravine. This town shall become a hive of malice and vitriol. We cannot allow them to live.”
“Instead, you’ll further stain the streets already littered with corpses and turn Keisato into a grave of spectres and vermin. Like all with the Mandate, you can’t help but feed into the growing mountain of dead.”
“How can you say that, of all people?” Yu demanded. “By the time the clouds of ash have settled across our lands, you will be the one with the most bodies at your feet.”
“Is that what you think?” Sio mused. “I did not start this war. Those that fall in the coming years are already fated to do so without my interference, and idle hands cannot usher in an age of peace. What I do is for the benefit of you all. Perhaps a day will come when you finally see that.”
Fuu scoffed, “Truly? Explain to me, how will it benefit my people- my own father, when they are all killed to fulfil your benevolent ambitions?”
“The dead have no need for such benefits.” Sio’s voice was as cold and hard as the corpses she trudged through. Fuu’s glare was like a burrowing light through the back of the host's head, though nothing more was said between them. It was already clear enough that she could never come to an agreement with a woman of such prolific hypocrisies. In the absence of words, only their cautious footsteps and the subdued rush of water interrupted the solemn silence of the dead.