by Travis Bughi
“They’re all clean, I can assure you.”
“Assurance isn’t good enough. I’ve seen what this plague can do. Send them back. Only you and I will talk, unmounted.”
Lord In-Su balked. In customary parleys, each side brought a guard. It was only reasonable. To outright demand that In-Su remain alone while Takeo kept his guard was not only dangerous, but also rude.
“If you refuse, we have nothing left to discuss,” Takeo continued, seeing the lord hesitate. “You can go back to your city, and I can go back to watching you die.”
Lord In-Su spoke to his guards. The conversation was short yet heated.
“Will you concede to sending them back halfway?” Lord In-Su asked. “I’m afraid my leg has been giving me trouble, and I don’t walk so well as I used to. I’d like to have my mount nearby.”
“Lord In-Su, am I correct to assume that you came out here today with the intent to join me?”
In-Su hesitated again. He started to sweat and drew out a handkerchief to dab his forehead. When he didn’t reply, Takeo continued.
“If I’m right and you’ve realized your city is doomed, then you’re about to submit to my rule. I’m not here to broker a compromise or listen to terms of surrender. You’re here to offer total submission to my will, and my will is that you will dismount and send your soldiers back.”
Another heated debate followed between the lord and his guards, which was a sign of weakness in Takeo’s eyes. No lord should debate with their underlings. However, in the end, the result was unsurprising.
Lord In-Su dismounted and sent his guards away. Takeo, feeling generous, broke away from his oni and came forward to meet the daimyo halfway. Lord In-Su smiled, or rather forced a smile, as he dabbed his forehead in the sunlight.
“That, uh, em,” Lord In-Su stuttered under Takeo’s gaze, his words forced out like a not-so-well practiced first line. “That was a dirty trick you played on us, spreading a disease. My people are dying.”
“It was your idea to bring a plague upon my army. I had to sacrifice a lot of soldiers to contain it. If you didn’t want to die like this, then you should have fought with honor rather than subterfuge. What is it we tell children? Don’t play with fire if you don’t want to get burned.”
“It wasn’t my idea,” In-Su begged. “It was that rakshasa. You know how it is. Sickness happens among the villagers sometimes, and when this one did, he decided to use it against you. I followed the wisdom of my advisors, and they said no one was as clever as a rakshasa, so just do what he says, and victory will follow. He brought the plague upon your army, not me. It’s him you want dead. I’m just a puppet, you see? I’m no threat.”
“And he’s paid for his mistake,” Takeo replied. “Qadir is dead, along with all your brothers except Oiu. This may be news to you, but did you know you’re currently the shogun of the Nguyen empire? In some regards, you and I are the last two ruling powers fighting over the fate of Juatwa. Your life stands between me and absolute victory.”
Lord In-Su shrank before Takeo’s gaze. His eyes flicked to the Karaoshi blade, sheathed yet no less dangerous. He dabbed his forehead vigorously.
“Listen, Takeo, eh, I mean, uh, Lord, well, my lord, yes, my lord—you have to see that I’m no threat. If what you say is true, then you’ve won. There’s nothing to gain from ending my life. You can ask Oiu, really, he’ll tell you. Not every daimyo is a power-hungry tyrant looking to stab you in the back. Some of us just want the good life, you know? The three W’s as it were: wine, women, and warmth. Please, hear me out. I’m sure a man like you is constantly looking over his shoulder, am I right? Well, you’d never have that problem with me . . . my lord. You’re looking for a puppet for the Nguyen throne? I’m your guy. Eh? My little brother, well, you never know. Just look how he used you to come after us. You can’t trust him. None of us ever did. But me? Ha! I mean, come on. Look at me. You don’t think I earned a gut like this sprinting out onto the battlefield, do you?
“Just, let me take my brother’s place. You don’t even have to kill him. I’ve had no news from my other brothers, but seeing those oni behind you, I have to assume what you’re saying is true. My other brothers are dead, and you’re on the cusp of victory. Let me make it that much easier for you and give up, huh? Just think what you could do with two Nguyen brothers, eh? Can you do that? I—I just want to live.”
Lord In-Su let out a long sigh and dabbed his forehead again. The ronin furrowed his eyebrows.
“That’s it?” Takeo asked, and In-Su froze. “I killed your mother, rose to power in the Hanu, subjugated the Katsus, sacked the Nguyen fortress, burned the Phan city to the ground, and brought the ancient Ngo plateau to its knees, and now here you are before me, who has done all of this, and the best you can offer is a poorly delivered promise that you’ll never be a threat?”
“Well, I, uh,” In-Su stuttered. “Uh, hm, I can, uh, maybe I should have said something like, well, what do you want from me?”
Takeo sighed. He realized with sudden clarity that the old Lady Nguyen had been a terrible mother, or at a bare minimum a terrible teacher. Her sons had been less people and more tools of the trade to her, and she’d never spent much time raising them with the sensibility to rule and conquer. The most attention she’d given to any of them was to Oiu whom she’d raised like the daughter she’d never had. The rest of her sons had been allowed to grow however they pleased, and this one had chosen the path of least resistance. Hidden by age between his older and younger brothers, he’d settled into a life of decadence and had never had to beg or argue for anything. He didn’t know how. If he did, he’d have known that Takeo had no use for such people. He’d have figured out that Takeo, being a warrior, wanted other warriors. He’d have heard that Takeo didn’t intend to stop at the domination of Juatwa. He’d have put it together that Takeo needed soldiers and generals to conquer the known world, and it didn’t matter who wanted to stab Takeo in the back because the ronin had always expected that and, in some ways, even welcomed it. Lord In-Su's promise to never be a threat was meaningless. No one was a threat to the Dark Lord.
“Pity,” Takeo whispered. “I’ve drawn this out long enough.”
“No, wait!” was all Lord In-Su got out before the ronin drew his sword and decapitated the man in a single swing.
In-Su’s head rolled, smoke drifting from the severed neck while the body collapsed. Blood sprayed out. Takeo stepped back to wait for the next part of his plan.
It didn’t take long.
When In-Su’s corpse started to rock, the oni behind Takeo looked at each other in realization. Takeo waited until one large, red arm burst from the body before he gave the order.
“Pull him out,” he commanded.
The oni rushed forward and yanked Tokhta from Lord In-Su’s remains. Tokhta gasped a lungful of air as his head broke free into this world once more.
“Put him on the ground,” Takeo said. “Hold him there.”
Tokhta yelped rather un-oni-like as his own kind obeyed the human, pulling him free and dragging him across the grass. There, soaked in royal blood, Tokhta was pinned to the ground, still reeling from what had happened, as Takeo paced over to the oni and laid his sword on the creature’s neck.
The blade hissed where it touched.
“Look at me,” Takeo commanded, and Tokhta did. “You are not human. The next time I give you an order, you will obey it to the letter. If you negotiate on my behalf again, I will cut out your eyes, your tongue, your fingers and toes, then bury you in an iron prison deep within the ground for all eternity. Am I understood?”
Tokhta swallowed.
“Yes, my lord,” he said.
Takeo cleaned his blade and sheathed it. Then he walked back to his camp. Tokhta was left behind by his fellow oni to recover, as they had been ordered to accompany Takeo, not to assist others. That was okay, though. Tokhta would come eventually. And if he didn’t, he wasn’t worth helping.
When Takeo got back, he explained wha
t happened to Lord Oiu and Qing, briefly.
“He’s dead, then,” Oiu said with a sigh. “I can’t believe it. I outlived them. All my suffering growing up, all the pain they caused me—thank you, Lord Takeo. I know I said I wanted to kill them myself, but I’m pleased with this outcome just as well.”
“You’re lord of the Nguyen realm now,” Takeo said. “By my will, of course. Do your best to be worthy of it.”
“I will, my lord. I promise,” Oiu said, adding a bow of gratitude.
“My lord,” Qing cut in.
Takeo glanced at her. She continued.
“What about the Ngo fortress?” she said, nodding to the plateau. “There are still people inside.”
“Plagued people,” Takeo corrected. “Soon to be dead people. We can’t save them. They must be quarantined. Maintain the blockade and make sure no one escapes. The place will have to be burned to the ground to be properly purged. Every night, loose five flaming arrows into the city. One night, there won’t be enough people alive to stop the flames, and then this plague won’t be a problem anymore.”
Qing blinked, but quickly followed it with a bow. Lord Oiu mimicked her stiffly.
“As you wish, my lord,” they said.
“You should be happy, Lord Oiu,” Takeo replied. “The war for Juatwa is finally at an end. Only one more city needs to be sacrificed.”
Takeo stayed to make sure his orders were properly carried out. Not doing so was how this plague had happened fester in the first place, and although Takeo had turned that tragedy into victory, he didn’t want to test his luck again.
He passed the days in his tent, alone when he could manage it, but usually in someone’s presence. He was now the undisputed general of Juatwa, making him more powerful than any other such general in living memory. Many daimyo wanted an audience with him, and not just those who had been with him all along. While the Ngo fortress lay rotting, Takeo wasted no time, sending out letters to every daimyo in the Nguyen territory, commanding them to come swear fealty to their new Lord Oiu and, by implication, Lord Takeo. For good measure, the message included a bit about the Yilmaz family lands being open as a potential gift for loyal vassals, as that family no longer needed them—they didn’t exist.
It wasn’t long before their camp was alive with visitors.
Little Pleiades was kept close by. Takeo wanted her to watch as he interacted not just with these new daimyo, but also with the older ones. She sat in and helped pour tea as Takeo talked politics with Lady Anagarika and Lord Oiu. She listened as Takeo talked strategy with Aiguo and Lady Kuniko, now fully recovered. She was there when Takeo read and replied to the letters sent directly by Lady Zhenzhen.
As for the Ngo fortress, it took a month to die. Things played out as Takeo had expected them to. That is to say, nothing happened for the first week. Likely a debate raged inside the walls over who would lead, now that In-Su was dead, or even if any should, or if they should surrender immediately. Eventually they realized that was their only choice as fire arrows diligently yet gently rained into the city every night while countless more perished from the spreading plague. They sent out a rider with terms of surrender at the end of that first week. He was promptly put down from range and then set aflame.
They tried again a few days later, this time being clearer in their attempt by forming a well-organized procession of royals, dressed in formal clothing and bearing large flags.
Takeo put them into the ground, too.
Honestly, he didn’t know why the survivors clung to life at that point. His message was clear, yet they fought destiny. They put out the fires and tried to escape in small bands in the darkness of night. However, there was nowhere to run, as Takeo’s full and growing army stood at the ready to slay any and all who made such an attempt. For good measure, he had his full contingent of komainu scour the lands lest anyone use escape tunnels to circumvent his siege. The army was well incentivized to kill any survivors, as not a single soldier wanted to catch the plague.
Finally, one night, there weren’t enough people left alive to stop the fires. One arrow caught a dried thatch roof, and no one put it out. The fire spread, eventually consuming the whole city, and the Ngo fortress became a funeral pyre that raged through the night and well into the day. The heat was so intense that one could feel it in the Hanu camp.
Only then did Takeo leave, and by then, it was time. While he’d been putting the final nail into the Nguyen coffin, other arrangements were being made. Now he was bound for the Hanu city, his loyal army in tow.
A wedding ceremony awaited.
Chapter 21
When it came to Lady Zhenzhen’s extravagance, Takeo had thought he’d seen it all at Nobu’s funeral. He’d forgotten that extravagant people were often vain and that they would easily spend double on themselves what they would on others.
The way Lady Zhenzhen saw it, this wasn’t just her second wedding, which in and of itself was worthwhile. Her first wedding had been arranged, political, and before a much smaller audience—only a third of the realm. This time around, she was being crowned Empress of Juatwa.
Specifically, that meant of all Juatwa needed to be present.
Pixiu carrying invitations had filled the skies, delivering summons throughout the realm. A two-for-one special, as it were, requesting, yet demanding that lords and ladies come pay fealty to their empress and see her wed the man who had made it all possible. They would see the former ronin be elevated properly from common samurai to reigning lord, then directly into emperor. The message was clear: Bow before their might and glory or kneel with the help of a blade.
The Hanu city was packed by the time Takeo arrived.
Games, festivities, and banquets had turned the strong trade hub into an outright carnival for all the daimyo in Juatwa and their families. So many had arrived that commoners were put out of their homes and made to camp outside the walls of the city so that lesser lords and ladies might have a roof over their heads.
In a way, it was beautiful. All the might of Juatwa had gathered for the first time in an age. Former enemies were forced to mingle in the streets and in ballrooms, sipping wine and discussing the vast shift in politics, now that peace might finally have been bought. There was also talk of the cost—in whispered corners, in dark rooms, and late at night in private quarters where the chances of being overheard were minimal.
Or so they thought.
Unbeknownst to most, Takeo had been right about more things than winning an ancient war. When his victory over the Nguyen had been sealed, people changed how they viewed the world, even the ninja clans. They realized, swifter than most, that as reigning lord of all Juatwa, Takeo would not only have an arm of military might yet unseen, but also an unrivaled pool of tax money. Under a chaotic realm, the ninjas had relied on small payments from lesser lords and ladies competing against each other. Under a central tyrant, they could theoretically position themselves to be paid handsomely and consistently.
The ninjas made their gamble by releasing all prisoners and sending dispatches to Takeo personally. They offered, in exchange for their lives and a bit of coin, to become his secret network of spies and assassins. It was the best they could have done because, while Takeo wanted to massacre the ninja clans, he was in a more dire need of keeping the peace. There were still a lot of daimyo who were more than bitter about bowing to a former ronin, and they needed to be dealt with quietly and efficiently.
So those lords and ladies in the Hanu city, visiting for the wedding and coronation, gossiped in corners among confidants, not knowing their servers were ninjas. They whispered at night while ninjas perched on their roofs, listening through open windows. They even muttered to themselves in the privies, and all they said was written down, collected, and passed onto Takeo’s enforcer: Lady Kuniko.
Ambushes were set up and, unbeknownst to many daimyo, when the wedding ended and they left the city, they would never make it home.
Yet all of this happened without much effort or interes
t on Takeo’s part. Instead, he was distracted by what greeted him when he arrived in the city. True to rumor, Lady Zhenzhen had locked herself away in her room for months. No one was to see her until Takeo returned victorious, and on that day, he would take her directly from her room to her crowning ceremony, where they would be wed and proclaimed rulers of all Juatwa.
All the arrangements were set, and Takeo marched up the tower dressed in the finest clothes, tailor made for him, thinking all the while that Lady Zhenzhen had surely gone insane. Either that or perhaps she had died and this whole thing was just a clever distraction thought up by Lord Virote before he’d been assassinated. He could think of no other alternative as he stood motionless in front of Lady Zhenzhen’s doors, staring at the massive slabs of wood bolted and covered in dust from disuse, while the guards worked loose the locks that had been driven into place on their shogun’s orders.
At the same time, Takeo could hear Zhenzhen pulling back her own locks on the other side, so certain she was that someone might try and disobey her order of self-confinement. Takeo glanced at the small cutout at the bottom of the door—which had allowed food, water, and waste to be passed between Zhenzhen and the world—and wondered if it might be faster to crawl through there. Then the locks clicked into place, and the ancient doors were pulled back, creaking as their rusted hinges were brought to life.
Takeo had expected Lady Zhenzhen to be dressed in her most regal attire, considering the importance of the day. Instead she greeted him in an old nightgown. His shock at this was quickly tripled when he realized why that was; her old clothes no longer fit her.
The Lady Zhenzhen was pregnant.
She stood there in the warm light seeping through the stained-glass windows of her room, both hands held under her massive belly, and Takeo quickly did the math: nine months. It’d been nearly nine months since he'd last seen her.
Lady Zhenzhen smiled.
“I wanted you to be the first to see,” she said, rubbing her swollen stomach. “It’s a miracle, isn’t it? I’m sorry about the gown. I couldn’t risk sending out measurements for a new kimono to be made. Word would get out.”