Tsuisaka’s walls towered in front of Sen’s armies, as solid and pristine as the day they’d been completed. Home at last, Sen thought. Cheers erupted around him, a shell of what it might have been had every single soldier not worn themselves out over the past days, weeks, months. With Sen was his army, his mother and a thousand of her men being pushed onward. The rest of her army returned to their own cities until Sen could figure out how to deal with the west. Rain was forced back to their own province, for now.

The time for proaction was here, which meant tying a few loose ends with the east.

The ground outside the city was exactly as they’d left it. He’d taken every last capable man from the city back to the hill with them, leaving its walls completely barren. Corpses still littered the ground with broken weapons on top of bloodied soil. The carcass of the dragon was the first one they passed. A large, scaly hulk with sinewy muscle still visibly stuck between its teeth. Most of the men kept their distance.

“Gheki, I need you to gather supplies and five hundred of my mother’s men. Depart for Chinuu at once, and escort its lord straight to Tsuisaka’s dungeons. We are all tired, but he will come this time, as news spreads of my victory. Bind him, and also take his closest retainers and strip them naked. Bind them as well.”

“My lord.” The youthful Gheki bowed, spun his horse around, going off to the side to round off the men.

“Who in particular do you speak of, Lord Sen?” Tsugo asked.

Sen watched the sun, having sunk halfway into the unknown. Twilight was upon them. “Komei, my uncle.”

“The name sounds familiar,” Koji said.

“Yes, you’ll recall he was the third lord we advanced on to replenish our troops.” Sen watched Aiya cock her head in realization.

“Komei, the one you called your old mentor? Who denied us aid, right?”

“Yes. And for that he will be justly punished. Imprisoned, along with my mother. If he resists, Gheki will have his city burnt to the ground, with not a speck left that isn’t ash.”

Everyone turned to Ueko at that moment, whose bound hands gripped the reins of her horse. Her expression was opaque, impenetrable. “You are an angry child, Sen,” Ueko said, then she laughed. Sen almost started. He’d hardly ever seen his mother laugh, not since Komei had gone. “I dishonor myself by continuing to call you that. Child. You’ve taken the win from me fair and justly, even I can’t deny that. But I know you well, regardless of what you think. You may be High Lord, but you are still an angry man in his youth. You teem with thoughts and feelings of power, justice, glory, purpose. Revolution.” Her eyes flitted to Lord Tsugo. “You think yourself a conqueror. I can see much of myself in you. I believe that may be the death of you.”

Sen didn’t back down. He knew that look his mother gave him, when she stared into the depths of his soul, intimidating him. Her effort was not to intimidate him, but assess him, challenging his ability to look a true first-class noble in the eye. She examined his worth, his resolve.

“Have her imprisoned,” Sen told a group of elite guards to his right. “She may be questioned in the future, but throw away the key.”

The reins were yanked from Ueko’s hands. She put up no resistance as she was taken away towards the city.

“And if the heavens permit it, we’ll never see her again,” Risako said, watching her go.

“That is likely,” Sen responded. “I can see it in the way you sit upright on your horses, your journey for this affair is not over, or at least it does not end here.”

Risako nodded. “Apologies, Lord Sen. Father, we hope you understand too. We must return Johori’s ashes to Agriculture. I imagine Koji and Aiya here have similar obligations.”

“We will return as soon as we have seen Ira back to full health,” Aiya said firmly.

Lord Tsugo met those four pairs of eyes, the Ginju he’d brought with him to the battlefield. Without them, Sen might look much like the men lying on the field right now.

Tsugo wiped his eyes and started to speak, stammered, then cleared his throat. His old age was more apparent than ever at that moment, his beard and long hair tied back into a bun, the latter a slightly lighter shade of gray. “Yes. Were I not obligated to stay here, I would come with you. I should be the one to stay anyway, given that I owe Lord Sen my life. I will handle the Republic’s part in restoring Forgery while you are gone.” His sorrowful words came with a strength only old bones could muster, the likes Sen had glimpsed in his own mother, in Lord Aneken, and those who had known death so intimately many times over.

Sen spoke. “Take all of Agriculture’s soldiers with you. Let them rest up too. We’ll all be better for it.”

Totane ordered a one-armed soldier to go with Ueko’s imprisoners and retrieve his brother’s ashes. He sped off. Totane gave Sen an inquisitive look.

“What is it?”

“I’m curious. What will happen with her, exactly?” He gestured in Renna’s direction.

She was a little ways away from the group, mindfully watching. Thick bandages were wrapped around one of her thighs. She remained in an ever distrustful stance, which Sen could not find at fault.

“She’s proven her loyalty enough at this point. She turned with us on the Empress. On her province even. We will keep Renna in check at Tsuisaka for the time being. Not to mention, she’s too valuable to lose.”

Totane looked as if he wanted to say something, but didn’t press the issue further.

Some time passed, and the soldier returned with a red vase in hand, dotted with gold at its neck. He slid from his horse and knelt below Totane, head down while holding the vase above it.

Totane simply regarded it for a long moment before taking it. When he finally had it nestled under his arms, he spoke to Sen again. “Johori gave his life away for our cause. He died saving you. When we return, we expect some progress to have been made in the unification of Forgery.”

Sen touched his fists together before the young Agriculture lord. “Trust that we will honor your words, and make it so.”

Without another word, Totane and the rest of the Ginju turned. Yko called on the rest of Agriculture’s forces, and before long they were off, marching into the imminent night. They would waste no time traveling back home.

Only Renna, Tsugo, Sen, and twenty-five hundred of his commanders and soldiers remained. Sen immediately set his attention on Renna, a true mystery if he’d ever seen one. “Don’t think you are completely off. I’d like to hear for myself how you came to be here with us, why you turned your back on your siblings and the Empress.”

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Renna touched her fists as Sen had done. She stood ordinary, and at first Sen could not place his finger on the strange quality about her. Suddenly, he realized she possessed an appealing set of glinting gray eyes. “It is a rather long story, Lord Sen.” She spoke humbly, as a soldier to her commander. “In short, my friend was wronged while my family proved to be quite the callous type. It’s not out of the ordinary in Rain province. As for the Empress, I would more willingly be drawn and quartered than submit to her.”

Sen considered her. As a Rain Ginju, she was no doubt a powerful boon to them, and that was without the fact she’d slain her blessed kin. Blessing ceremonies were held once every seven years, in homage to the seven virtues of Engo. After that, each province had no choice but to wait another twenty years for the next seven-year period. Only one child in each High Clan was blessed in any given year, with a maximum of three children allowed. Komei had given Sen this knowledge. He thanked the heavens for his fortune. “I have heard the high born culture of Rain is rather… pernicious. You may have chosen right to join us, as unexpected as it was. Have her searched and her weapons confiscated for the time being.”

The guards moved to do so. Renna let forth a slight grin. “Also, just a tiny correction to your accusation about me.”

“Hmm?”

“I didn’t turn my back on my brothers. They turned their backs on me.”

The guards removed the two daggers she used for combat, twelve-inch blades thoroughly stained. Along with those, they confiscated a scroll, a long and bright sheet of rolled paper tied by a red string. They took it from under the damaged purple armor where it had been pressed to her hip. Next to it was some strange doll, a small figure in the imitation of a girl. It was stitched burlap, with thin lines threaded on its face for eyes, and perfectly combed black hair that fell back to the end of her flowery red and white dress.

“What is this, a message?” the guard said, eyeing the scroll and tossing the doll to the ground.

“No clue. I found it when my brothers and I were traveling to Tsuisaka. It was on the ground near a bush and I thought it looked important. We tried everything to open it. I’m not sure why, but we couldn’t.” Her eyes landed on the discarded doll, bemused. “As for that, I have no idea where it came from.”

“Interesting,” Sen said. “You’ll get your own private rooms for tonight, where you’ll have time to get that leg patched up. Lieutenant, help with the burning of that dragon corpse. It may not be our last.”

*****

Hours later, Sen trudged over to his makeshift throne within the central hub building of his austere city. It was a large maroon pillow in the center of the room. Besides the huddled human bodies, the room was empty, save for a brazier in each corner. Sen snatched the pillow up, took it to the floor near the back, placed it there, and collapsed into it. Slumping against the wall, he raised his head and let his eyelids sink until all he could see was black. Sleep called for him. He was tired. So tired.

“Bring me some sake,” he called to no one in particular, eyes remaining shut. The room was full of the highest ranked officials, who would refer to him from now on as High Lord. That was surreal. He’d imagined the possibility of this scenario his entire life, but he’d never truly considered it becoming reality. He would have preferred infinitely more to be at the side of another with the Yomenuura name, one fit to rule in his place, whom he could serve and cherish.

Regardless, it was finally over. Night had fallen. The soldiers had settled into the city, organizing themselves into the barracks. His sister was dead and his mother imprisoned. Komei shared her fate. He savored the moment before moving onto the next.

“Here you are, Lord Sen.”

A noble lord handed Sen a cylindrical wooden cup and held out a bottle of rice wine. “Like all the finest wines, this comes native from Rain province.”

“How consoling,” Sen mused, allowing the man to fill the cup in his hand. He eyed Sen as he did so. Curiosity and amazement drifted there.

“My Ginju status may come as a shock, but I assure you there is not much to it. My mother simply could not afford to have her children in the way of her rule, even her blessed children.”

He sipped the wine, slid it around his tongue. It was a strong liquid that almost stung. Upon swallowing, his chest warmed considerably. Now to the real discussion.

Tsugo, Gheki, a couple of older generals, a dozen lieutenants, and a few noble lords, including Lord Aneken, sat around the room. Lord Juso, who’d been killed in an honor duel months ago in River province, was noticeably absent. Sen had lost a good fighter, and an even greater economic strategist that day. He tried not thinking about how things might be different were Juso still here with them.

“Let us begin with the biggest issue on our minds. We’ve pissed off the Empress. By some freak turn of chaos, we confronted her long before we originally planned. We, the Republic, which Forgery has hence forth fully assimilated into, have declared war on the Empress far before we were prepared to. Now, we must direct our efforts into shielding our two provinces from retribution.”

“Therein lies the difficult part,” Lord Aneken said. His back hunched, eyes drooped, and his hair had gone white, marking him clearly as the oldest in the room, the one who had the most experience, who’d seen ages come and pass.

None offered a solution, creating a pervading solemn mood.

“How long do we have?” a nobleman asked.

Sen contemplated for a second. He’d begun to sweat. Now that the gravity of his words had fallen on them all, he wondered if there was any making it out of this alive after all.

“Hoho, don’t tell me we’ve come this far and his lordship has already lost hope.” Aneken chuckled.

Sen grappled with feeling exposed, correcting his expression to appear unbothered. Aneken always knew how to read him well. “You know of a path through this?”

“Our revolution has until the end of spring,” Tsugo answered. “The rest of Fenn, and the months of Toma, Saka, and Rama. That is the time we have to prepare for retaliation.”

“How do you figure?” asked Gheki. Sen could count the number of times he’d seen his companion form a sour face, bearing an at once stoic yet cheerful expression. Now he frowned under characteristic youthful eye bags.

“Deduction,” Tsugo began with an elegant lilt. “We know the Empress came to Ueko’s aid. But the empire itself, the rest of the land remains unaware. Word will likely spread that she came to put an end to the civil strife in Forgery, but the details will be obscure. Of course, the Empress will want to keep it that way. We will too, lest the entire empire be suddenly pitted against us.”

“If that’s the case,” Gheki pressed, “why wouldn’t the Empress let the facts of it all be known? Not to sound treasonous, but I’d reckon she could take out at least half the provinces on her own with the proper preparation. As I see it, we’re sitting ducks.”

“Your young mind still has much to learn. Such a thing would put a stake right through her pride. Imagine the shame she must feel as soon as news of today’s events reaches her ear. She came to sort out a conflict that was surely beneath her, only to be confronted with the most profound impudence. Behold, now her blasphemers still live to see another day! Not the type of tale she’d want circulating with all the other terrifying stories surrounding her, is it?”

Aneken nodded. “Additionally, some of the northern provinces have ignited in more conflict. She’s certainly got her hands full and doesn’t need any arrogant High Lords thinking she’s grown incompetent.”

Tsugo continued. “Still, the Empress will eventually come. Originally we would have created a situation for ourselves in which we possessed more ample time to plan and execute our revolution. Now I would imagine we have three years or less to kill her and split the empire. In the meantime, we must completely unite our two provinces. By the end of spring, we must have shielded ourselves against any moves the Empress might make.”

Kill her, he’d said. Kill the Sorceress of Storms. The words just didn’t sound right, didn’t sound doable, even to Sen.

“What must be done, must be done,” Sen replied. “With Komei out of the frame, the matter of East Forgery is settled. Now we shall discuss options for subduing the west. They are in a weakened state and doubtless exhausted from warfare, needing but a single blow, and we will have them toppled. However, our aim is to absorb them into our cause. Though some violence may be necessary, I’m not certain another campaign is the best course of action. The east and west have warred with each other long enough, and for this to work, we will need more sway.” He faced Tsugo. “I wonder, Lord Tsugo, if Agriculture is as united in one purpose as you claim, and if I can utilize some of your own strategies to our advantage.”

Tsugo stroked his long beard. “Agriculture does not share the same history as other provinces. Our roots run deep in rebellion, and our culture is completely entwined with that cause. Our society operates towards that one goal, as I helped mold it. Our citizenry, they feel as if they differ from the rest of Egaisha. They live in a unique society, where everyone is accepted and has their own appointed place. Moreover, every citizen of Agriculture has a say in all matters. A Republic is governed by the will of the people, by mechanism of the vote. Even commoners vote. It’s the way of the Republic.”

“‘Even commoners’, you say,” said Sen, interested. “In that case, there may be a sound way to bring Forgery together after all.”