“I am not so keen on these wretches of yours, Kintaro,” Zinon, irritated, drummed on the table. His other hand supported his temple in his perpetual slouch. The meetings had not been going well. Aki glowered. He had learned to hold his tongue.

Kintaro sighed, showing rare exasperation. “They are not my wretches. And they are perfectly able to work, with the rate at which we recruit, won't your orders be filled within the week? We are solving more problems than one with this, Zinon. You have to see that.”

“And what of the commission you demand for them? Lord above, two shi a piece, a day. We will be out some sixty thousand a month. The treasury is not boundless. Some even run off after taking their pay!”

“I will ask my clerks to be more prudent in their selection. The fact remains, most of them stay. Most of them are happy to find any labour at all. Two shi a day is hardly proper compensation for the work we have them doing. It is no easy thing to quarry stone, to pile dirt twelve hours a day.”

“That's another thing, that's all these wretches are good for. Not a single craftsman among them. They were penniless in the streets for a reason.”

“They can be trained.”

“Enough!” Aki growled. “The matter was settled a week ago. Kintaro has made his promise true, and soon we will have more workmen than we can use. Your protest of lacking a workforce has proven to be so much hot-air.”

“Brother Kintaro's solution is an elegant one. If we cannot provide even for those here in the capital, how can we properly minister an Empire?” Tomoni said. She had been a good addition to the committee, Aki had to admit, at least thus far. Though they had only managed to get so far along in their plans as suited her.

She agreed they had to find other gates, other portals. She had augmented Monterio's first dispatch with a number of her own Diviners, and the results were troubling. So far nothing concrete, but plenty of tales of missing people, the kind unlikely to shirk their duties, the kind that went for a walk in a forest and never came back. More troubling yet, disappearing monks at a number of temples. These were of chief concern. The two gates controlled and known, here in the capital, and beyond the mountains, were situated on ancient sites of ritual. Thus, to Aki, all Holy ground was suspect.

There was a pile of scrolls in the centre of the table of such tales. Mysterious creatures spotted, missing people. The call had went out to every prefecture, and daily dispatches rolled in. Most could be dismissed surely, common folk-tale. But not all. Zinon was supposed to be cultivating a troop of clerks to sort through the information, pick out promising leads. So far they had not materialized. The man remained unconvinced of the danger.

Kintaro smiled at Aki, but said nothing.

“It works,” Aki said. “And that is all I care for. What of the walls Zinon, how much longer?”

“The same as yesterday, esteemed General. They will be finished within the month, though a fair number of Kintaro's friends might collapse before then.”

“We don't lie to them,” Kintaro said, “they know it's dangerous.”

Zinon rolled his eyes.

“Good. Monterio, will your men be ready by then?”

Monterio was sitting with his arms crossed and eyes closed, he opened one. “Of course, they are already mobilized. Any day now we will see the first of them. The country lords are not pleased of my proposed camp, however.”

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

“Let them grumble. When they arrive take the least of them, the malcontents, and post them to the walls, even sections unfinished. The rest will march through. I take it, Kintaro, that you have been gathering a number of these impoverished for the base on the other side?”

“There are a few. We have not told them explicitly, of course. But they know the pay is better, and they know they might not live through it.”

“The soldiers can work just as well, but we will need to fortify quickly. Faster than even a regiment can work. The day we cross, is the day we have a new fort.”

“I remind you, magnificent General, that material will take some time to arrive. You are asking for no small amount of stone and wood.”

Aki said nothing in reply. His stare smouldered.

Zinon sighed. “There will be enough ready for a palisade, at least. The men I fear will be sleeping in tents for awhile. And-”

“I do not want to hear more excuses, more talk of ledgers. You will make it happen.” Aki interrupted, cutting the air with his hand.

Zinon frowned, his large bushy eyebrows pointing inward. He cleared his throat, tugged on his foreigners jacket. “I have made it happen. As I was saying, we are pillaging the lands of the provincial lords, Lord Suki has lodged no less than a dozen complaints about his forest being felled unlawfully. Something will need to be done about them, and emptying the provinces of loyal soldiers whilst simultaneously aggravating the Lords of said provinces is not a wise course of action... Esteemed General.”

“They are loyal subjects, and if they are not they will be dealt with as we have always dealt with upstarts. Tomoni, what have your Diviners unearthed in their research?”

The elegant woman snapped her fan shut, her pale face unreadable. She held hear breath for a span, the beautiful rendition of a spring time pond on her gown still. Her speech was proceeded by a little sigh.

“The Ancestors were wise beyond measure, beyond us now,” and here she betrayed irritation on her face, “though cryptic.”

“Then let us hear their code,” Aki said.

The wind picked up, brushing the gossamer curtains and sending them fluttering into the chamber. Distant the ocean glittered beyond the rich balcony, the sun in cloudless sky. All of the Gate Council turned to look at Tomoni, arrayed as they were around the deep brown and gloss of the polished table.

She plucked her fan up once more and eased to standing like a practiced dancer. Gliding about the room she opened and closed it, she stood a moment in the mouth of the archway out onto the balcony, running a hand along one of the grand pillars supporting the ceiling. When she turned back her eyes were narrowed.

“Resplendent halo, restless dreaming done inside, hidden things appear, shifting the scale of Order. Fujin strides through shimmering doors to close them in slumber.” She chanted in old plain song, her voice as graven as all ancient poems call for. She waited.

Aki took a deep breath and rubbed at his eyes.

“Well, you did ask for the code, Lord General,” Kintaro said. “Tomoni, what is this from? It sounds stilted, it's not a mode I'm familiar with.”

Tomoni glided back into her cushion, graceful quick movements, though she made them seem unhurried. “Tsukyomi, twenty-fourth year of the Autumn Moon.”

Kintaro whistled, “I didn't know anyone could even read anything from the Autumn Moon period.”

Tomoni shook her head. “We ask the Stars, and they grant us little insights. I am confident in this translation, or the spirit of it at least. There are other tablets from the era we are translating now. It is the first and oldest reference we have to the Gates. Our gates, I believe, are the very doors that dear Fujin closed.”

“I expected more than fairy tales, Lady Diviner. Fujin is a story to tell young boys,” Aki's voice frayed around the edges, he was growing tired though it was only midday.

“Fujin was a real man, General of the Gates. And in his passing he became a saint, the most important to you, I would hope.”

Aki met Tomoni's eyes, and after a brief pause said, “The moral of the story, I can agree, is useful.” Fujin the Fearless, Master of the Martial Spirit and Harnesser of the Four Waves. Other titles beside. Aki was willing to admit that perhaps the man had existed in some distant past, but he certainly wasn't the god his fables made him out to be. An accomplished warrior, intelligent leader, nothing else.

“It is a flimsy connection, at best, but continue your line of inquiry Mistress of Ceremonies. We are clear on our duties for the time being. Zinon, I will personally survey the depot you are preparing for our venture. Dismissed.”

They each inclined their heads in a minute bow and quietly left the room.

Aki lingered awhile, rolling the words of the poem around in his head, shuffling them, substituting words. So Tomoni was sure of the translation, Aki was not. The Autumn Moon period was more than a thousand years ago, everything had changed. Still a flimsy reference was better than nothing at all. Up until eight years ago, when a servant demateralized in the garden lake, the existence of the portals had been entirely unknown, even to the Emperor, if the Chancellor was to be believed.

Restless dreaming indeed, Aki grunted.