The samurai were donning their armor. Some wore blue, or red, scale or leather. All were the best, most loyal samurai any daimyō could ask for.
Nori Hukama was about to make his move. A well-positioned man was set to fire an arrow and loose it over the palace to signal for the attack. That attack would be launched as soon as the assassin signaled that he was going to make the kill.
If that hurg mercenary failed to kill Emperor Kurosawa, then Hukama’s loyal samurai would finish the job, and make captives or bodies out of the rest of the royal family.
That the Shinju royal family had come to Yukai City so suddenly and without warning did not perturb him.
Perhaps Kurosawa sensed such an attack, Hukama thought. A brilliant move if this was planned, but he can’t hide behind the Shinju family tonight.
He hadn’t thought the Emperor was this well informed. If he was indeed this well informed as to make a counter play.
A failed counter play.
Another victory would be his, as so many before had been his.
Nori Hukama, the First Spear as he was styled by his own ruler, wasn’t one to sit back and allow others to do the heavy lifting. No. He lead his own forces into the battles that he fought. Even being paid, why should a warrior risk his life for that of his lord’s if his lord was not willing to risk his own for his men?
Because he was honorable and because he won battles, Hukama had become famous and had even made a name of himself. He was a part of history now. But it wasn’t enough. He wanted to be immortalized for a thousand years to come, his battles and his ambitions taught in schools of learning throughout the world. He wanted monks to know his name.
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And for that, he thought, I will have to become shōgun… And then Emperor.
Only through great actions could he ascend to such a place.
“My lord daimyō, we are ready,” a quiet voice said.
Hukama turned to address his most loyal servant, craned his neck to meet the swordsman’s gaze, of which he could not see. Ujiwara Karimato liked to wear his mask. Tonight, he had already stained it with the blood from one of their foes.
He was most notably known as The Sword of a Thousand Suns, a name Hukama had helped spread to glorify his army and to sear its reputation into the minds of his enemies. His disciple’s reputation was truly one to send his enemies into sheer fear. The past deeds of his actions would one day be carved out from reality in every shade of marble to be found in the world.
Hukama nodded, slapped his palm against the swordsman’s arm. “We’ve never undertaken such a dangerous task before. The enemy is weak—divided—and yet still dangerous. See that you do not fail me.”
Ujiwara bowed.
It would be a great loss to lose this man, he thought.
Hukama stepped forward to address the forty men crammed into the small room. “I will say it again. This will likely be the most dangerous task I have ever asked you do to do. Or possibly ever do. The Kurosawa dynasty might be weak and lack resolve, but the Emperor’s guard will be no easy challenge. They are not samurai born and bred on the rice patties of the upper countryside, fat and lazy from too much wine and meat. These men have seen battle! These men will die for their ruler. I believe in you. I know you will overcome them!”
His samurai slammed their fists against their leathered chests and boomed a short but impactful cry that nearly reverberated through the floor boards.
Hukama was ready, and would be there with his men. He also had a contingent of ninja waiting in another location as well as foreign agents working to spread chaos and fear through-out the city at this very moment. He had great confidence in the sorceress’ power, and that of a disturbed mad man that called himself the Spider. At first he had doubted the abilities of the shadowy fiend, but Lady Markovila had assured him that the disturbed man would be useful, despite her own apparent distaste for him.
Together, those two mercenaries were currently working to sew anarchy in the city to aid in the general confusion. But his most prized mercenary was the hurg assassin.
When hitting your enemy, always misdirect with multiple points of attack!
Hukama could practically feel the thin bamboo reed his master had used to teach him so many years ago. The daimyō owed everything he was to his old teacher.