Sen watched the sun dip lower while making his way through the forest. Night was still distant, yet too close for comfort. The captive’s mouth had been gagged with cloth, and none offered to upend the dreadful quiet under the trees. The last time Sen had come through here, he’d been fleeing.

Now Sen fought back bitterness. In his mind played an affliction of memories, years under Ueko and his father’s household. His father, who was not a much better person than his mother, had died in a wagon accident. That had begun this civil war, and the greed of his mother had ensured none of his siblings had lived a long life. On the outside, Sen appeared calm, collected, calculating. That was to the benefit of others, for he was their leader. Inwards, he was ready to erupt.

He would give no heed to the pleas of any who opposed his rule, to those such as Hasa. No High Lord, most of all his father, sustained influence or power by giving an ear to his opposition. Each was to be given a choice; his father would have his civil enemies castigated, exiled, even executed. The simmering rage within Sen longed to do the same, but another part of him, that which made him a true leader of men, recoiled at the thought of becoming like his father, becoming like his mother, a man who lived by arrogance and cruelty. Perhaps the two of them had always possessed a greater sense of duty than he, unconcerned about these things.

He ran his fingers across the burn scars on his arms, determined to humiliate his mother in front of thousands. How could he make her look the fool? He wouldn’t have a chance to act out his ideas, not most of them. Once Hijimata was settled, they would need to consider their next steps immediately. Regardless, his mother would surely see her blunder of going against him, of cutting short the the lives of Yahida, Hasu, Pana and Gara. That was certain.

Aiya appeared at his side. Sen hadn’t known this one for long, but she looked more worn than many of his soldiers, sluggishly clinging to wakefulness. “You really meant what you said, didn’t you?” she asked. “About things not getting any easier beyond here. First the Empress interrupts us in the middle of our climactic battle, then a dragon begins rudely ripping us to pieces, and now we still have to go back and claim those fucking hills.”

“This is just the beginning,” he answered. “We may not make it out this winter alive.”

“Heavens, what happened to your optimism?”

Sen sighed. “I haven’t given up hope, I’m only stating the reality.”

Aiya mused, deep in thought. Despite himself, she captivated him. Her hair flowed and lips pressed together thoughtfully, marking her with both beauty and intelligence. Sen wondered if there were many women within River province like her. “Your mother, she sent men to die by your hand. Why attack you in the first place?”

An observant question. “She knew Hasa was the one heir I would never bow down to. Ueko’s not one to take chances, for even her other blessed children were made to perish. Her generals, however, died by my hand because none in Forgery back down from an honor duel.” Taking note of her doubt, he added, “It may seem like a paradox, but so is human nature.”

“Then why are we pretending Hasa’s alive? You have her head strapped to your horse. If Forgery is so huge on touting honor, you should be the rightful heir.”

“Ueko commands respect from all of West Forgery, they won’t turn on her so easily. That, on top of the fact that the Empress herself came to her aid, and yet we defied her. I don’t imagine her subordinates will be any more pleased to join us.”

Outside of the forest, the sun nearly touched the horizon. By the time they got back, it would be sinking into the night. If they succeeded here.

“There it is,” Yko said. “The first hill.”

It was the first of two hills, a monumental bulge of earth. At its peak was the top of Sen’s abandoned HQ. The trudge up was daunting, but they climbed. With each step, Sen watched the hilltop recede, the tent advancing more into his line of sight, anticipating the moment he’d find his mothers face looming there, arms crossed, leading an army more than ten times the size of the one behind him.

Near the crest of the hill, the invasion of his headquarters became clear. Thousands of enemy soldiers roamed through his old tent and patrolled to and from Ueko’s HQ on the opposite hill, gathering up dead bodies and retrieving weapons from the battlefield between the two mounds of earth. Agriculture and East soldiers were made prisoners, awaiting their fate while bound in groups on their knees. His mother stood with arms spread over a table placed behind the tent, with that same creased, frowning face. Commanders Fun and Masuo stood on one side of her, with commander Reni and an unfamiliar Rain general on the other. The five had seen Sen coming, and they were ready.

“I refuse to believe it,” Fun boomed in a voice so deep that it might split the ground underneath. “This scoundrel was actually able to scramble his way out.”

Ueko only continued to wait, lips sealed.

Sen brought his steed to halt and dismounted. Surrounding soldiers had stopped whatever they were doing to watch the proceedings. Chatter dissipated, leaving only the sounds of camp. The clink of armor, footsteps, weapons, the grunts and neighs of beasts, the breeze against their tents. Sen took his place standing at the table. His mother stood opposite. Sen took in her features, the aged lines in her face, her fearsome intelligence. On the precipice of fifty, she was a true commander. A real leader of men, a woman who carved out her purpose in the world, who would exterminate anyone in her path.

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Including her own son.

They regarded each other for a long while.

“Hasa is alive,” he told her frankly. “She’s not in the best condition, but we shall hand her over once you deliver Lord Tsugo to us.”

Ueko waited more. She was above quickly answering demands from the likes of him. “Don’t play me for a fool, Sen. As for your Lord Tsugo, he’s being brought out right now.”

The soldiers around them began to part as a group of men came out the main tent and towards the meeting table. More guards, guiding Tabeni Tsugo in their center. His wrists were bound with ropes behind him, his feet shackled.

“Sen, my old friend. I wondered if I’d be seeing you again,” Tsugo said. His long beard was ruffled and his robes stained. From what Sen knew of the man, he likely hadn’t put up a fight so much as been forced rather roughly into those chains. A disgrace committed on Ueko’s part, one that was personal.

Sen hoped the man’s Ginju, especially Totane, would have enough self-restraint to keep things from getting out of hand, at least until he gave permission to wreak havoc.

“I see you haven’t been so quick to capitalize on your apparent victory,” said Sen.

Ueko sniffed. “I was going to have him hung in the middle of the plains, and have his troops wander back to Agriculture without supplies.”

The Rain general was shorter than Fun but equally as burlish, with a voice of incredible hoarseness. He took one look behind Sen and started. “Lady Renna, are you injured as well? Where are Shoba and Dekuri?”

“No longer bleeding,” Renna answered. She made no show before him, letting the words out simply, almost smug.

The general worked for a response, her words hanging in the chilled evening air. Understanding dawned on him. “You ungrateful bitch! You dare turn against us, abandon your province? You’d turn against the Empress herself?”

“Round up your men, general,” Sen ordered. “The battle of the Hijimata hills is over, and it is ours to claim. My mother and I will settle the rest of this conflict on our own.”

“I’ll be damned before I retreat from a lordling of your stature!” the man responded, slamming a fist on the table.

The other generals had to keep themselves from exploding into fits of rage. Masuo was the only one to find humor in the audacity of Sen’s words. “You seem to be under the impression that you aren’t terribly outmatched, and that you and your friends haven’t marched here to your doom. It isn’t long before you’ll be worm feed.”

Sen lowered his hand to his waist, grabbing the hilt of his blade. The other generals, taken off guard, did the same, as did half the soldiers surrounding them. Sen exhaled. “It’s true that you hold the upperhand in manpower, mother. But I have my own advantage, which is that I possess every Ginju on this battlefield.”

He moved his hand away from his belt and positioned it facing the sky, arm outstretched above his head. With his palm spread out, he forged his mind.

He no longer saw his mother, or anything in the tangible world. The fields, the camp, the clouded sky, receding, gone, as if billowing smoke. The strained muscles in his face loosened. Throughout his body, his muscles relaxed. Once again, that familiar sensation that he had been here forever returned. His mind was no longer in the natural world. As if purifying gold, he let go of all thoughts and concepts, all contaminations, all that would defile him in the presence of the great blackness that enveloped him. That darkness was forgery.

Forgery set the course of the world. Unlike the domains of other deities, forgery was not a simple feature of mother earth, nor the exploitation of nature. It was a step beyond that. It required a base level of advancement to begin with, and it changed what was possible. Forgery gave one command over the elements of the earth, shaped them into tools and weapons fit for any purpose. It gave mankind dominion over their own minds, lending those who would harden themselves the capacity to accomplish anything. It made change possible.

He leaned back, vulnerable, spread openly on an anvil a hundred-thousand times his size, the anvil of his deity. His impurities, gone. His body and soul, malleable. There they were, those flaring orbs of power above. They were like a molten hammer, and he was at their mercy.

Sen knew his deity as well as he knew anyone. It didn’t matter if the Empress called the deities full of wrath. For him, there was no wrath, only enlightenment, enlightenment that burned if he pressed too deep, asked too much. He couldn’t wield all of that power that shined greater than the sun. Sen was allowed only a portion. He imagined forgery making the same demand to him every time they came into alignment: what shall you become?

It wasn’t a god, not sentient, but by its own nature, it was his god speaking.

“Make me fire,” he said.

Its hammer came down on him.

Flames burst from his palm, blasting into the air. Around him, commanders and soldiers alike took three steps back. Ueko put up an arm covering her face, shielding herself from the heat. The fire coiled upwards, continuing to reach higher until it came to an arch and fell down like a mound of hot vipers onto the table.

All encircling him scrambled back at least ten paces, shouting at the flames. Masuo shuffled too quickly and tripped over himself. A shade of blood forged itself in Sen’s irises.

“What the hell are you?” Fun demanded.

Sen stepped away from the crackling heat, his robes singed but his body unharmed. He placed his undivided attention on the Rain general. “Renna is with us now. If you wish to make anymore of a show out of this, if you refuse to pay respect to the clear victor of this civil conflict, then with her aid and my armies of East Forgery and Agriculture, we will resolve this dispute right here and now, and everyone shall die on this hill.”

Ueko blew air through her teeth, a habitual show of annoyance. She’d been forced beyond pursing her lips, acknowledging the gravity of his threat. “My eldest child, Sen. You are a fool if you truly believe you can lead Forgery. Doubly a fool for going against the Empress herself.”

Sen didn’t hear her movement, but he heard the ring of Risako’s sword sliding from its scabbard. She moved in front of Ueko before any Jodai could react, holding her short blade flat against the side of his mother’s neck. “You have a hard time learning when to quit blathering,” she said. “Sen is the winner here, and a greater leader than you’ll ever be.”

There was burning in his mother’s eyes. “Put down your weapons,” she called out. The air around them was stifled, rigid with tension. Ueko’s men didn’t move. “That’s an order,” Ueko finished. Ungraciously, the Jodai moved to do as told.

The Rain general grit his teeth. Scowling, he straightened and yelled for his men. “All troops are to stand down, immediately! Commanders of Rain, gather the men! All troops will withdraw!”