by Travis Bughi
“Hey! What are you doing?” Norio cried out. “I told you where they were. You said you’d let him go!”
“I made no such promise,” Takeo replied without stopping, his arm only mildly shaking as Pranav fought to free himself.
Takeo braced himself, gripped his sword for strength, and then tossed Pranav one-handed. The boy yelped and flung his limbs wildly, but he was caught mid-air by Emy, Takeo’s intended target. She caught him by the back of his clothes and with a single, outstretched arm, and held him at a distance, where he dangled over the drooling mouth of her komainu. Pranav froze.
“Don’t fight her, boy. She hasn’t eaten anything live in some time,” Takeo said, then mounted his own komainu and glared at Norio. “You almost made a foolish decision today. I can’t ignore such blatant defiance. Your son will stay with me to ensure you think more clearly in the future. This is really a blessing, honestly. Right now, there are countless families out there just like you preparing to condemn themselves and their loved ones to death by opposing me. With Pranav in my care, you may just survive the whirlwind.”
Lord Norio stood aghast, staring helplessly as his son was dangled by one creature over the mouth of another. The komainu licked its lips and panted with anticipation, the hot air from its mouth sending Pranav’s loose strands of hair dancing. The lord glanced at his troops, and for a moment Takeo thought the man was going to make that suicidal charge, but another look at his son quelled the thought. He sighed, and Pranav went a touch pale.
“Father?” the boy whispered.
Takeo kicked his heels into his mount to set off, and the others followed. Emy put Pranav over her saddle and held him there. Pranav flailed wildly, but he might as well have been strapped down with chains.
“Father!” he yelled out as his home began to fade in the distance.
“Be brave, son!” Norio shouted back. “Remember your family honor!”
Takeo kicked his mount again, spurring them faster, and soon Norio and his group of distraught guards were left in the dust. Then it was Takeo’s turn to sigh.
“What an annoying little family,” he muttered. “I’m surprised you two sat through that so calmly.”
Oiu tensed, alarmed that his retreat into obscurity had been called out.
“Are you talking to me, my lord?” he asked.
“Well I certainly wasn’t talking to the rakshasa,” Takeo replied.
“If you expected defiance from me, my lord, you’d be sorely mistaken,” Oiu continued. “My mother taught me obedience to a fault, and subsequent years spent in Lady Zhenzhen’s dungeons pacified my desire to re-enter one again. My mother left me to rot there, too. And with all due respect for Lord Norio, it’s easy for him to criticize my decision to join you from the comforts of his mansion.”
Takeo smiled.
“Spoken like a true logician. I think you and I are going to get along well, Oiu. And what about you, Gavin?”
“Eh, I knew you weren’t going to kill the boy,” the knight answered.
Takeo looked over his shoulder and cocked an eyebrow. Gavin shrugged.
“It’s true. I know when you’re going to kill someone, sometimes, I think, before you know.”
The ronin shook his head. A memory drifted to the surface of their time in an old ruined fortress, when some idiot samurai named Chet had chosen to defy Takeo. Gavin had issued a stern, or rather dire, warning to Chet to back down, which the boy had refused. Takeo had killed him shortly after.
“I think you’re right,” Takeo said. “I believe you missed your calling as a sennin, Gavin.”
“Nah,” the knight replied. “I’ve come to accept that I’m whom I need to be, right where I need to be.”
“You don’t miss your daughter and wife? Or think they miss you?”
“What’s important is that they’re alive to miss me, and if you’re truly bent on seeing this war through, then I better be at your side. Afterall, someone around here needs to keep you in check.”
Takeo smirked. His old friend was back.
Chapter 3
In many ways, the last battle for domination over Juatwa was well under way. After striking a deal with Oiu and freeing him from Lady Zhenzhen’s dungeon, Takeo had taken his best troops and made a lightning assault into Nguyen territory to the north. Reports had stated several skirmishes were breaking out along the Hanu-Nguyen border, and Takeo thought there was a Nguyen army lurking behind the lines at the ready, probing for weaknesses. His intent was to break through that line and surround the Nguyen fortress as soon as possible and thus disrupt whatever plan Qadir had in mind.
That’s not quite how things turned out.
Takeo had struck deep into Nguyen territory and surrounded their mountain-fortress, but instead of coming into contact with some massive army lying in wait, he’d instead encountered little resistance at all. Actually, to be more accurate, zero resistance would have been a better description.
The Hanu army had marched unimpeded through territory after territory, hardly encountering enemy scouts let alone any guards. Takeo couldn’t make sense of it, and he’d suspected a trap right up until he reached the Nguyen fortresses and found the place near-deserted. The Hanu army laid siege, surrounding the mountain, and Takeo sent out scouts far and wide to figure out what in the world was going on. His gut told him that Qadir was doing the same, sending a strike force into Hanu territory, and Takeo would have to pull back, but that never materialized. Reports came back empty and plainly stated that, for all intents and purposes, the Nguyen lands might as well have been at peace for all the commotion that hadn’t been raised.
Takeo was baffled.
For a half second, he’d hoped the Nguyens had capitulated their throne. Perhaps Qadir’s head was on a pike somewhere, and they were waiting on bent knees for their new ruler to waltz in. Yet that was clearly not the case. The Nguyen fortress stood prepared for war.
Not much had changed since Takeo had last visited the Nguyen seat. A small town still surrounded a great, steep mountain that thrust up from the ground like a spearhead, and a magnificent fortress still rested at its peak. The only way up the mountain was still a single, narrow path, that was blockaded at several points, meaning any invader had to break down several gates and walls before the fortress could be captured, all the while assailed by the defenses of the main fort. Daunting didn’t even begin to describe it. Takeo knew when he’d surrounded the Nguyen fortress that his plan to success lay in starving the Nguyens out, for his chances of taking the place by force were close to impossible. Even if he did manage to storm the place, the losses would be so heavy that he wouldn’t have a standing army large enough to occupy the region anymore. A rebellion would shortly follow, and all his hard work would be for naught.
Then the bad news had struck, that only one of three brothers was inside. The other two were unaccounted for, or had been, until Takeo had ripped the information from Lord Norio’s throat, and now Takeo was on his way back to his camp with even grimmer news.
In order to cull the Nguyen bloodline, Takeo would have to capture not just one impenetrable fortress, but three.
“It’s that damn rakshasa, I know it,” Takeo said as the four—or five, including Pranav—reentered the Hanu camp. “In-Su and Seiji wouldn’t have left the safety of their main fortress without Qadir’s express insistence that their survival depended on it. Now all three are holed up in fortresses spread across the Nguyen lands, each with a full garrison untarnished by fighting me, unlike Botan had done.”
The Hanu supply convoy and baggage train had arrived just a week prior, so the Hanu camp was a hive of activity, a little city in its own right. Traders, messengers, and escorts had established a string of outposts between the Takeo encampment and the foremost Hanu city, meaning a person could travel by mount in relative safety and ease from the main fight to the Hanu capital and back again, which meant a host of lords, ladies, advisors, servants, cooks, scribes, and many more were stocking Takeo’s ranks and weighi
ng down his army’s mobility.
Not that Takeo could be angry or dismissive with these particular daimyos. Their mere presence indicated they had come to accept—or even embrace—Takeo’s leadership. On the contrary, Takeo needed these people and more like them. They were casting their dice with his lot, which meant his failure would have dire penalties for them, too, so Takeo did not dare send them away. It was well known by now that Lady Zhenzhen intended to marry the ronin upon him winning the war, so ambitious royals were setting up shop to take advantage of the change in power. Takeo could hardly blame them; on the contrary, this was exactly what he wanted.
However, that didn’t mean he had to entreat them personally. For that, he had two much better suited to the task.
Kuniko Zhao was a daimyo in her own right, and she took to corralling royalty as well as she took to motivating troops. Honestly, Takeo didn’t know what he’d do without her. Yet, she was only one woman, so it was fortunate for all parties involved that she had help.
Anagarika Katsu was much older than Kuniko. She had children of her own and a host of diplomatic skills earned over a lifetime trying to survive the regicidal bloodbath that had been the Katsu family in the wake of Lord Ichiro’s death so many years ago. To Takeo’s understanding, Anagarika was to Botan what Kuniko had been to Takeo, minus the blind zealotry. While Botan won wars and captured hearts and minds, she had worked to keep the lower caste of daimyo entertained and informed, as well as to ensure that Botan’s far-fetched battle plans had the necessary logistical backing to attain victory. The two cousins had formed a meaningful business arrangement, cut short by Takeo’s blade to Botan’s throat. If Anagarika was in any way vindictive over her younger cousin’s death, she hid it well.
Since joining Takeo’s war effort, Anagarika had quickly become indispensable. Soft spoken and meek, she was an outward opposite to Kuniko’s brash style. However, Anagarika was no less skilled in getting people to do as she wished. Armed with guile and indirect threats, she’d managed to convince the entire Katsu clan not to openly revolt against their new ruler. On the contrary, she’d even managed to wrestle away their ranks of samurai to bolster Takeo’s army.
Takeo had responded in kind by increasing her position of power, as was Lord Ichiro’s way back in the day. Takeo still knew little about ruling, so he took his cues from the only one he’d known to be successful at it. The late Lord Ichiro had been a savant at recognizing talent and then tying it to himself through a combination of ruthlessness and special treatment. It was simple; people were faithful to power and fearful of punishment. Ichiro had been the source of both, and Takeo tried to be, as well.
So, between Anagarika and Kuniko, Takeo could once again focus on what he did best: killing.
The four ditched their mounts upon returning to camp, and Takeo’s honor guard resumed their posts at his side, clearing the way as he marched through the rows of tents. Samurai and conscripts alike rose and bowed as he walked by, pausing in everything they did to acknowledge their general, the man shrouded in that irresistible combination of mystery, infamy, and victory. All the while, the great mountain of the Nguyen fortress cast its shadow upon them. More than a few curious glances fell upon the young boy, Pranav, as he fought against the iron grip of the rakshasa that dragged more than guided him along.
Kuniko intercepted Takeo’s path the moment word spread of his return.
“The war has changed,” Takeo said to her as he marched through the camp. “I'll need to meet with the lords and ladies. Fetch Anagarika and have her gather them. There’s nothing secretive about our next move. Is Qing back yet?”
“No, my lord.”
“Hm, that can’t be good. What about Nicholas? Where is that sack of meat?”
“His usual spot, my lord,” she said with a smile. “Sometimes I think he sleeps there.”
Takeo diverted from his current route to the mess hall.
As a viking, a giant, and a braggart, Nicholas loved little else beyond eating, drinking, and attention. He spent an exorbitant amount of time consuming all three in the only communal area in the camp beyond the latrine and the training grounds. The mess hall had everything Nicholas desired, and Takeo could hear the place roaring over the viking’s tales long before he could see it. The place was in such a state of bedlam that not even Takeo’s approach was noticed.
Nicholas occupied the middle-most section of the tent, towering over those around him, speaking in that boisterous voice of his. In one hand, he held a slab of kappa meat, in the other, a stein containing enough booze to pacify a minotaur.
“You were there?” Nicholas boomed at a man with a thick mustache directly in front of him. “I can’t believe it! Finally, a witness.”
“I saw the whole thing, and I can barely believe it,” the man shouted back, grinning just as wide.
A roar of laughter filled the tent.
“Tell them,” Nicholas commanded, slamming his drink on the table, then pointing to a table just down the way. “Those doubters!”
“He tells the truth!” The man shouted, eagerly. “I was right there, Lord Botan just paces away. That oni came out of nowhere and struck the Dark Lord down, and then BOOM! This behemoth charges out of nowhere and lays into the creature with nothing but a hammer. The knight and the purple beast were there, too, but it’s true. The Immortal Slayer earned his name that day and laid open that oni’s head like a melon.”
The following roar was deafening.
“I have to say,” one man said, sitting next to the one with a mustache, “I miss Botan sometimes, but I’m all too glad to be fighting with you rather than against you, Immortal Slayer. Let’s just say you were mentioned in the Katsu circles.”
“Ah, that’s just the way of life for a soldier,” Nicholas replied. “It’s no different for vikings. You fight for one lord, for honor, glory, and coin, until you fight for another, and former friends become enemies, and vice versa.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” someone shouted in the back.
That call raised a grumble of agreement, yet it also paused the conversation long enough for someone to notice Takeo’s presence. A young soldier, as it happened to be, who nearly choked on her food before standing to attention, then adding a bow. Her movement broke the dam, and the entire tent noticed Takeo, and soldiers flung themselves to attention and silence to show their respect.
They could be forgiven for taking so long to notice. Officers didn’t eat in the mess hall, among the common rabble, so Takeo hadn’t been expected. Not that he was too good to eat with the normal crew, but Takeo had gotten used to taking his personal chef’s meals in his tent where he could enjoy some solitude for once.
Takeo nodded to his troops before singling out Nicholas with a look. A quick cock of the head, and the meaning was discerned.
“Ah, sorry lads,” Nicholas said, draining his mug. “Duty calls.”
“At ease,” Kuniko commanded as Nicholas and Takeo left the tent.
“Well, well, well,” Gavin commented with arms folded across his chest. “It seems your aspirations are finally coming to fruition. You have a name now. I’m still just ‘the knight,’ or if I’m unlucky, ‘the traitor.’ Must be nice.”
“Hey now, don’t be bitter,” Nicholas replied. “When I get the chance, I stick up for you. I let everyone know what a mockery you made of me on that hill that day with your shield. But yes, if you weren’t paying attention, I’m finally getting the renown I deserve, no thanks to any of you.”
Gavin missed the sarcasm in those last words, his eyes falling at the mention of his shield to his left arm, severed at the wrist. He’d never wield a shield again.
“Oh, uh, sorry,” Nicholas said, cringing. “I didn’t mean to, uh, well, erh, Takeo? I’m assuming you had good reason to pull me away from good food and drink?”
“Aren’t you curious about where we went?” Takeo replied.
“Not in the slightest. I’ll find out soon enough, and I already got what I wanted out of this war.
You just tell me where to lay this, and we’ll be right as rain like always.”
Nicholas flicked a thumb to the giant maul strapped to his back. Takeo, in turn, flicked a finger to Emy, whose death grip on Pranav’s clothes had not loosened a hair. Nicholas regarded the boy, as if noticing him for the first time, and narrowed one eye.
“You want me to kill a kid?”
“Not yet,” Takeo replied. “For now, I just need you to watch him.”
“Wait, now I’m even more confused. Have you not been paying attention? I’ve just been regaling a tent full of hardened samurai warriors about how I saved your ass from an oni, and you reward me with babysitting duties? This is a joke, right? Gavin, please tell me our little friend here has finally developed a sense of humor.”
Gavin blinked, but otherwise didn’t move a muscle. Nicholas smacked his own forehead.
“What did I do to get stuck with two lifeless shells as companions,” the viking muttered, dragging his fingers down his face and putting his gaze on Pranav. “Lucky me.”
“Don’t let his size or age fool you,” Takeo said. “I’ve already watched this child perform an act of great stupidity. Watch him closely.”
“Aye, of course, my Black King.”
“That’s not what they call me.”
“Inky Chieftain.”
“Why do I put up with you?”
Nicholas shrugged and gestured to Emy. The rakshasa chucked Pranav like a ragdoll, though his feet didn’t leave the ground but for a half second, to Nicholas. The boy hit the ground, stumbled, then went to dash off with all his speed. The viking only just caught him by the collar, and Pranav tripped with a yelp before hitting the ground again.
“Oh ho! You weren’t kidding. Feisty one,” Nicholas said. “Hey wait, where are you going?”
Takeo had already turned away and was walking off, Emy and Gavin in tow.
“Why should I tell you?” Takeo replied, retreating. “You already said you didn’t care.”
“Humor me,” Nicholas called back. “In return for this crap job you’ve given me.”