Bustling bodies filled the streets of Kawanura. The nobility boasted robes of heavy silk with all manner of color and designs. Commoners slipped around them, content with their duller, more modest attire. Though only specks of clouds drifted above, a considerable number of Erru held up raincatchers, not chancing the prospect of a full day without skywater. Aromas of noodles, fresh produce, and cider swirled through Aiya’s nostrils, and the hypnotic rhythm of violins in the background was so melodic that she at times felt as if she had begun floating. There were gobi fish displayed in overlapping stacks in the stand next to them, its stench a fraction of the offense coastal towns and port cities offered. It was a warm start for winter, Third Day on the second week of Yin.
Aiya, Ira, Shozhu, and Koji lagged far behind the rest of the Takasa family, perpetually sidetracked to every attraction along the way. It was on noon days like these that Aiya imagined the four of them as a pack, paroling through the city with prowling eyes, daring any of delicate flesh around them to make one false move, or else whisper the wrong thing. In times of tension, even nobility were better off keeping their guard up, lest they be subject to the High Lord’s wrath. A malicious thought, one that made her question how much she aligned with her father, but was it not steeped in truth? Even so, the question, along with an unceasing whirlpool of guilt, combined with the sense that she was floating through the days, weeks, years, internally adrift, lingered at the back of her mind. The rice wine was failing to wash away the resentment she felt towards her father. Roaming the city atmosphere with Koji and Ira did its part to ease her, though she could do without Shozhu.
“How many clans do you think will dedicate soldiers to this heir’s cause if father agrees to an alliance with him?”
“You really reckon there’s a possibility that we’ll hand over our manpower, Aiya? I’d say he’s come at the worst possible time. Do tell, what’s in it for us?” Koji asked, though the question came off as more an accusation.
Ira lunged to her defense. “Forgery is one giant smithery, the largest in the empire. The only thing we can offer is manpower. You’re dismissing that they are a more central province, so a deeper relationship with them can only improve our standing within the empire.”
Shozhu waved for them, sauntering on with his slight limp. The pudgy man freed himself from the lure of a street musician by dropping a few coin bits in his basket. The musician nodded once, eyes still lowered as his fingers worked furiously upon his flute. Like Aiya, Shozhu shared a particular appreciation for the melodic arts. “Let’s press on, young ferrets. His lordship must already be at the meeting grounds.”
Aiya dodged a serious-looking noble man, whose cloud-patterned navy blue robes seemed a size too small. He did a double take after noticing who she was and stopped to profusely apologize.
“My lady, forgive my indifference! I failed to notice you.”
“A small thing, Lord Ona,” Aiya said, putting on a smile. She only barely remembered him from his stiff posture paired with a wobbly tone. She knew nothing of his trade, only that he’d proposed his three sons to her on a number of occasions, swearing their eternal servitude. Though she’d declined, she’d seen kindness in each of their eyes, and did so with grace. “You may be on your way.” They briskly separated, the man complaining something to the merchant as they walked away.
No one recognized the four of them as Ginju. Of course, very few knew who, or even what, the Ginju were. To the Erru, they were men just short of monsters, hidden or perhaps locked deep away in the High Lord’s dungeons, waiting to be unleashed and wreak havoc. But here they walked now, free as doves, enjoying the festive atmosphere the meeting had brought upon the city. The morning announcement proved a shock to the masses in Kawanura, and the streets were soon flooded with anticipation. Children laughed, adults droned or chattered in excitement, and Aiya couldn’t help but be intoxicated by the thrill, a much needed respite from the events of the previous night.
The four Ginju went through shops, long-ribboned women spinning to the hum of stringed instruments. Crowds gathered around firetaming performers. Unable to resist, they found themselves pulled into a crowd standing outside a caravan and waiting for the beginning of a story. Aiya squinted her eyes at the sight in front of her, vision a bit shaky from one too many helpings of sake. “Why is Ari lagging behind the rest like a lost pup?”
Ira shook his head. “Yeah, I thought that was our job.”
She noticed their approach, turning nonchalantly in her spot among the gathering crowd. A blue dyed orchid complimented her slim Takasa robes, tucked into her hair bun. A flower for the unwed and the innocent. She was just fourteen after all.
Aiya closed in and snatched it from her sister’s head with as much drunken grace as she could summon. There was no reason to handle her like Kitani, but there was also no reason for her to be here, ready to ruin their stroll with some sly quip she’d no doubt already formed as soon as they’d met eyes. She didn’t need words, though–she could say everything with a look–remind Aiya of her servitude to a woman four years her junior. The disdain between their two parties was destined to go on and on, perhaps till the end of their days. “You shouldn’t go off on your own, defying father.”
“I’m not, you brute.” She stuck out an open hand with a defiant expression.
Sometimes, Aiya coveted her younger sister, and she found that weird. As the middle child, she was more grounded than Kitani and less emotionally volatile than Yuuki. Father and mother would have her as first pick for heir, were it not for optics. Aiya couldn’t deny her some respect. Still, the orchid remained pinched between her fingers.
“You’ve been drinking like the adults?” Ari asked.
Aiya tensed as Ira and Koji’s presence behind her sent pressure in her cheeks. How to keep them from questioning her decisions? “It’s the proper thing for adults to do when we celebrate. Makes us happy.”
Ari only studied her. “Father’s a real asshole when he drinks.”
“Good thing I’m not him,” Aiya replied, and tossed the orchid back. She turned to the sight of tall figures at their side, not seeing if Ari had caught it.
A number of Kotonese sidled among the walking throng. Her eyes darted from one to another with slight aversion. Unlike the tawny Erru, they were a terracotta skinned people whose features appeared scrunched at the upper half of their faces. Men and women alike avoided eye contact, avoiding the attention of the Erru in any way, the lank of their limbs kept rigid at their sides. They didn’t look sad, or scared, but simply observant of what lay ahead of them.
Kotonese represented nearly half the population of southern fishermen. They’d occupied Egaisha a long time, perhaps the most stagnant group of people on the continent. Despite their majority population in some southern towns, the sight of them was enough to evoke feelings of revulsion. Even common Erru thought of them as low, an unmotivated and mischievous race. The mental image conjured up by their mere mention was a base person simple in their ways, groveling, wretched, undignified. A scowl skipped across Aiya’s face before diverting her gaze.
“Apparently a diet of just salmon makes you lazy. That’s why they don’t want to fish anymore. That’s why they can’t learn to do anything else.” Ari began walking ahead, but turned and faced Aiya again. “You’re just like them.”
“What’s that supposed to mean, you wide-nosed pig?” Ira demanded, but she’d already stalked off.
“Let the little brat go,” Koji said. “Looks like it’s about to begin.”
A pair of Ushin in dirty white burlap robes strode together in front of their view, sporting wide brimmed straw hats atop their heads. Aiya trailed them with her eyes. Ushin warriors, dubbed snidely as the poor man’s Jodai, made their living as mercenary soldiers for hire against bandits and thugs. They might police the streets of a countryside, or save city shop owners being robbed, or act as escorts to a caravan traveling through dangerous roads. Unlike Jodai, they were of low birth and far from military grade.
Even they could be organizing treason against the High Clan.
Enough of that. Aiya shook her duties from her mind, concentrating on the story that was about to unfold at the gathering’s center. A dull excitement rose in her. This was the true highlight of any city-wide festival. At the very least, she would enjoy herself for the duration of it.
The crowd’s energy dissipated into an excited hum. A storymaster in mauveine robes of exaggerated length and beard hairs woven into a thick braid exited the caravan’s door and began to speak, a solemn but lively spark in the wrinkle of his eyes.
“Before River, we were a people of the Kingdom of Nirogawa. Before Nirogawa, we were only men, whose main pastime was strife, as much as it is today. Before men, there was only the Empress.” The storymaster cast his voice, settling like a blanket over the audience. His hands moved in hugely exaggerated gestures, inciting awe in his present audience. “The Erru have always been a squabbling people. Hundreds of years before even the earliest era of the empire, we fought against one another among innumerable tribes. It was a far more treacherous time then. Spirits and monsters roamed from place to place, and much of the land suffered an endless torrent of freezing rain.
“Times grew unbearable as war turned into necessity. Across this same land of mist and rain, starvation, plague, and despair took the lives of many. However, there would come a savior. A woman in robes of lavender whose porcelain skin radiated like the rising sun. The woman was said to be the daughter of the Shinti, an immortal who walked the earth, watching over each creature, all the same. As part human, she felt responsible for her half-kin. She witnessed the carnage throughout the lands, as tribes turned on tribes, father on son and mother on daughter. Thousands of men lay torn to pieces in the Valley of Zakura, where demons feasted on them from First to Seventh Day.
“The woman was not to interfere with the Shinti’s creation, but finally her desire for order took the better of her. The great warlord, Kozuku of the Uchiname tribe, came to the woman to request her aid in exchange for his eternal servitude.
“‘None under the heavens can ever be eternal in body apart from me,’ the woman answered. ‘But in name, your honorable words today will make you so.’
“Thus, she became his head, and he her vassal. She banished the monsters and spirits from the physical realm to the spirit realm, where most hide today, lurking with resentment and fear. She and Kozuku conquered all his enemies, until they stood united under one banner. Thus, the immortal woman became Empress, sovereign over her people.
“Many would submit in fear at the first sight of her, but there were those who would stop at nothing to nourish the greed in their hearts. Many a tribe came together as her armies rampaged across their borders. Her Sovereign was untroubled, and demanded her troops stand aside. Ten times ten thousand men with spears and swords and clubs charged doggedly before her. But there was no intimidation in any part of her.
“With a simple gesture, she conjured up storms of lightning and mists and wind. These were no ordinary storms, but storms of spells, causing those inside to shrivel into frozen husks of themselves. They screamed, cried out, and more quickly than any other army had before, died. It was a gruesome sight to behold, one that was never forgotten. That is why, to this day, the Empress causes Wailstorms, and the frostsickle they inflict. They are a mere display of her power, their wails serving in remembrance as the last cries of her enemies brought to justice by the storms.”
His tale had drawn the audience into a sort of trance, so that Aiya didn’t even notice Shozhu before he had to pull them onwards. She’d heard the tale before, but its grandeur performed with such zeal never failed to leave her spellbound. It was a story of ancient and mythic quality, indeterminable in authenticity yet cautionary in its profound plausibility.
Koji and Ira went ahead as Shozhu took her arm and stopped her. “I won’t let you go through today believing your blunder has gone unnoticed. Look perplexed as you wish, I have seen the injury on your arm that you’ve been trying to hide.”
Aiya flinched at his mention of it, pain returning to the gash along her bicep. Somehow his judging stare was worse. “You sure never asked if I was okay.”
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“The music, these festivities, they nourish the soul, don’t they? Your father doesn’t share our appreciation of these fine arts. The bastard is simply a dullard. However, seeing you like this, I’d rather fill my time in his presence over yours on any occasion. Dull as he may be, he is simply a true Takasa. He and I spoke shortly before our departure. He noticed it too. He believes such an injury calls into question your dedication, your resolve and character. I share his sentiment. Look around you. The clans, they do not respect you for who you are, as intimidating as you think you may be. They respect you for what you are. They fear the Takasa blood within you. Koji has thus far proven himself, in my eyes. Ira, disappointing as he is…at least there’s a reason for his incompetence.”
Aiya’s innards sunk as Shozhu’s bearded scowl turned away. The notes in the air no longer invigorated her, but passed through her, empty, as she followed her hobbling uncle to their destination. For once, she’d believed she’d done everything right, carried out her task in a way above reproach. Perhaps she was incapable of even that.
Off in the distance were the meeting grounds, an expansive circle of cobbled stone surrounded by wooden fencing. Inside the fence, there were already a number of noble families gathered around a central tower. Commoners congregated outside it.
The crowd parted, making way for the late-arrivals. As they made it into the inner circle of the meeting grounds, Aiya watched her family standing on a stage encompassing the entire base of the tower. Below them, lower River clans stared reverently.
Lord Arusuke perked up as a Jodai guard approached him from the opposite side of the circular stage. Arusuke wore the same light blue Takasa robes, except for a white gobi fish patched onto his chest. Lady Uaya wore matching robes, and together, they represented High Lord and First Lady of River.
The two made the perfect duo, each on the cusp of forty, Arusuke two heads taller with an ever present distinguished look on his face. Uaya sat contently, pretty with red lipstick and an alluring smile. From a more intimate point of view, however, one discovered Arusuke’s strong face took on an irritable and self-centered quality, and Uaya’s smile became a simple facade to hide a personality as reserved yet fiery as a viper. Aiya was not much closer with her younger siblings, Yuuki and Ari, the unblessed of the River lord’s daughters. Even at fourteen and twelve they were crass and simple-minded. Kitani, eldest unblessed son, was a year older than Ari, a selfish brat that reminded Aiya of a yellow-back monkey, with his long limbs, knobish build and his habitual outbursts over trivial matters.
The Jodai whispered something into Arusuke’s ear, deep blue lamellar armor glinting in the sunlight. He was a servant of Arusuke, as were all Jodai in River, noble men of every class trained in the sword since the age of two. The title of general granted authority closest to that of the High Lord himself, though this man was likely only a high-ranked footsoldier, marked by the absence of an officer’s finned helm.
Aiya had always seen Jodai as tall, straight-backed warriors with an appetite for ruthlessness. Though she hadn’t the experience of participating in the midst of battle, her interactions with them proved true. They were among the most honorable and dignified men in person, but when facing opposition, they fought like ravenous wolves and stole the heads of their enemies as trophies. Disregarding internal strife, River had remained on good terms with neighboring provinces since the establishment of Takasa rule over forty years ago. She’d seen the aftermath of their craft in the history books, leaving her to wonder just how true these men around her could be to their historical image.
Arusuke held up a hand and the crowd hushed.
“Hold on,” Shozhu demanded. They were at the front of the crowd and facing the stage, stopping so as not to disrupt the ceremony. They’d watch from afar, keeping their ears open for any dissenting noble opinions. Not far from them, the crowd was making way for three Forgery caravans, large wooden carriages marked by bold and exotic colors. A tingling levitated in Aiya’s chest, uplifting her spirits as she looked excitedly on the beginning of the festival’s main event. The caravans came not twenty feet from the crowd as guardsmen hopped around to escort the passengers out.
Aiya picked up harsh whispering behind her: “I can’t take this. When will we receive our own caravans to parade around the city?”
Aiya turned to see a wispy haired, solemn faced old man violently nudging a younger looking one. “Lord Takasa protects us, watch your tongue and mind your blessing!”
The young man noticed Aiya, eyes timidly falling to his feet as he reluctantly piped down. She turned her attention back to the caravan, noting the bold red painted wood complimenting matching red wheels. The doors were opened, and out stepped an orange robed man with hair so long it fell to his shoulders. He had a determined expression to him, clean shaven with strong features. He was also surprisingly…young. Young and unexpectedly handsome.
The Forgery heir walked on stage, men from the other two caravans stepping out to follow suit. He waited for the rest of them to stand behind him, presumably his trusted subjects and counselors. He was a spectacle, standing opposite the Takasa family, facing the crowd with those closest behind him. He opened his mouth to speak with a rich voice of conviction that suggested he’d spent more years on the earth than at first glance.
“My name is Lord Yomenuura Sen, heir and soon-to-be highest lord of Forgery province. And you, colleagues of River, are an honor to stand before. Underestimate not my gratefulness for the opportunity. Upon my return from these doors, I hope to consider you more than colleagues, and to secure an alliance that may aid us both. May the Empress shine her favor on River.”
He turned from the crowd to Arusuke. The short speech seemed slightly rehearsed, but still the crowd watched in anticipation. Lord Sen and his retainers were led into the tower first by blue armored Jodai. Soon, Arusuke and his family followed in silence, a jittery buzz returning to the crowd.
“Let’s go,” Shozhu said, stepping forward, as Aiya focused on keeping her balance. The doors remained open for them, and as they walked through, a chill ran down her spine. The events of the day’s unfolding had finally begun to weigh on her, as she realized the conversation in this room could very well alter the course of River. Such an opportunity would provide her clan a pocket of power outside their province borders, furthering the scope of their influence, and at the same time, their enemies.
The inside was modest, nothing but the polished floor and ashwood walls, filled with a foreboding quiet. Jodai guards stood off to the sides. She recognized the goateed man sitting next to her father as General Yun, whom in the past, she had limited interaction with. Unlike his soldiers, he wore a black robe, though he still kept a sword tucked at one side. His gray hair was pulled back, just long enough to form a tail.
They sat behind their father in a line with the rest of the River lord’s family, while Uesaka Sano and a couple of high ranking lords took their spots behind them. Aiya waited for one of the lords to speak. Ira fidgeted as she resisted the urge to sniff. The young Forgery lord, strong-jawed and handsome indeed, cleared his throat.
“We thank River for this welcoming occasion. Lord Arusuke has been gracious to us, and we wish to make the most of our meeting today. Your time today shall not be in vain.” He dipped his head, touching together two fists. His next words were spoken with more conviction. “As you understand, the relationship between my clan and I has been less than ideal as of late. The conflict concerning my sister has continued for too long. Through our own persistence, we’ve managed to hold back her advances. However, our resources have been dwindling, and not all who fight under my banner remain faithful. Therefore, I come today to humbly and formally request an alliance between River and Forgery.”
He looked up with hard eyes boring straight into Arusuke. “I understand River has experienced dwindling relations with Agriculture, especially as of late. With the joining of our forces, my last living rival would be pincered between us, overpowered and forced to give up her conquest for the throne. We would be forever in your debt.”
Moments passed before Lord Arusuke’s answer. “Interesting. You speak more of your own province’s interests than you ascertain mine. Who’s to say you’ll keep your word if we do lend you aid?”
Quite direct of you, Aiya thought. She was no stranger to statecraft and had sat through a fair number of diplomatic negotiations with lesser officials from outside provinces. Such suspicions were usually brought about with more tact that kept both parties in good faith, leveling the ground until a more clear opportunity to position oneself higher arose. Though River was already on higher ground, such blunt accusations on the Forgery lord’s character were surely unnecessary.
“Your lord, with respect, such an act would not only be foolish, but selfish.”
“Yes,” Arusuke mused, “and possibly advantageous. You’re young, not only inconsiderate, but also inexperienced. I expected a speech of more character. Something revealing intelligence.”
Sen twitched at this. Some of the men around him moved uncomfortably.
“Lord Arusuke, perhaps I was not clear enough about your own benefit from our allegiance. I understand we do not come from a place of close companionship, and your own misgivings are of a more personal nature. Yet we serve the same Empress, and are both served by our respective people. We possess resources you lack. The conquest for Tarshan grows more heated by the day. You are second closest in proximity to those raging seas. You may soon want a cheap way of garnering arms to prepare yourselves, in case the Empress deems your shores fit for a second vantage point in the war. We could supply you greatly in high quality steel, of course.”
Arusuke eyed the Forgery lord. “I suggest you think before you speak, boy. For what sensible purpose would we expend bodies in your own power struggle with no guarantee of a return on investment? We have enough soldiers taxed out of us each year. I suppose next you’ll suggest we stoop as low as to draft commoners. This was supposed to be a negotiation, instead you offer a half-assed plea!”
“Pardon if I speak out of turn,” said a large white-haired man next to Sen, adorned in robes of crisp white, “but Lord Sen is fully accustomed to court politics, and his presence demands respect.”
Arusuke paid none of it. “He’s barely more than my eldest son. If he’s to be the next High Lord, the future of Forgery does not look bright.”
Aiya grinded her teeth in agitation. The discussion was not progressing how she’d hoped. Were an agreement met, it would further cement the firm rule of Takasa, and that might mean less midnight excursions to murder insurgent clans. She ignored the burning ache in her bicep, reminded of the consequences of those who tested her father. Aiya could think of no reason for his rudeness and unwillingness to engage other than foolish pride.
If she prodded gently, she might sway things…
No, that’s the sake in you. That wasn’t true. She was in control, even if her head had begun spinning and spilling with pent up anger, discontent. She was here to look out for her clan’s best interests. She could set the meeting on a proper path. She unfurled her fists, red from her own grip.
“Father,” she began, with a voice more faint than she knew she possessed, “it may be…”
“SILENCE!” She didn’t meet his face even as she jolted at his demand. Her eyes stuck to the mats below her, her beating heart almost knocked from its place. Fool, she thought. Idiot. He’d taken great offense to her interruption, his reaction untempered; perhaps she would be excluded from the rest of this diplomatic discussion. She’d not shame herself further by lifting her head for all to see. She waited for his correction.
When nothing further was said, she raised her head to the opposing party, no longer seeing through a drunken haze.
Sen now looked angry. “I assure your lordship I’ve enough experience to not come to you as ignorant as you presume.”
“You are nothing,” the River lord responded flatly.
The white-haired man grew bolder. “I refuse to listen while my lord is mocked and his accomplishments undermined!”
“Surely the boy can speak for himself,” Arusuke said, not caring for the offense being given, “I’m simply helping him understand his place: an innocent pup pretending to be one among the wolves. He’s yet to even grow a wisp of hair on his chin.”
Sen glared at Arusuke, a dangerous look in his eyes. “Your careless threats might prove reckless and dangerous. I advise you to show some of the respect you so readily expect for yourself.”
“Oh, the pup attempts to growl,” Arusuke said, challenging. “But will he actually bare his teeth?”
The man shot up from his sitting position. He was surprisingly bulky for a man his age, somewhere in his mid-fifties. He was at least a head taller than every other person in the room, with an appearance like that of an ape. “Lord Sen will receive his due reverence! I won’t take anymore from this River scum!”
“Down, Juso,” Sen said. The man hesitated. Finally, he sat with reluctance.
“I am greatly dismayed at our conversation so far, Lord Arusuke. It seems it was a mistake to have been so optimistic for this talk between us. For some foolish reason, I assumed you’d be more reasonable.”
Arusuke chuckled. “What would a child understand about reason?”
Aiya was appalled by the malice in Arusuke’s words and actions. Even for him, she’d expected a more civilized performance of statecraft. He had no intention of bringing this anywhere. He was purposefully antagonistic, emphasizing Sen’s reliance on him more than he relied upon Sen.
The man named Juso bounced to his feet again. “I’ll have no more of this!”
“You’ve no choice but to.” This time the words came from General Yun, who still sat coolly on the floor. “What Lord Arusuke says is true, whether or not you accept it. This was agreed to as a meeting between lords, not dogs, and any further interruption will force my own involvement.”
Juso took a step forward. “I hope you understand what you are suggesting could unwittingly cost you your life.” His hand went to his sword hilt. “An honorable duel with me is not likely to end well.”
Yun merely smiled. “Hmph. If that’s what it will take to silence your barking, then so be it.”
“Stand back, Juso!” Sen commanded, but Juso ignored him.
“I humbly apologize, my lord, but I must uphold your honor above all else.” He unsheathed his blade. “I, General Juso of Forgery under Lord Sen, accept an honorable duel between me and the River official scum before me.”
Aiya’s eyes darted from Juso to Yun. The escalation between the two parties had occurred so quickly, she could scarcely believe what she was witnessing.
General Yun stood, a whole two heads beneath Juso, unsheathing his own sword. His blade sung softly as it slid against the metal scabbard.