by Nikita Thorn
Seiki was surprised that they were not the first customer of the day.
On the cushion opposite him was a woman in a purple and silver kimono, Ibumi of the Court Minstrels [Level 23], whose geisha-styled hair was heavily ornamented with beads and hairpins of all sorts, and who turned to look at Seiki and his friends when they entered.
It took Seiki a moment to recognize where he had seen her before. Apart from her attire and hairstyle, this girl was identical to Ikumi of the Shinshioka Scientific Society, the houshi he had met at Taira Mansion, as well as Irumi of the Crafters’ Guild, and someone else with a similar-sounding name that he could not quite recall.
“Hello,” said Ibumi.
“I think we’ve met,” said Seiki.
Ibumi smiled. “I don’t think so. You must have met one of my sisters. There are seven of us, you know.”
Seiki could have sworn she had recognized him. “I think you’re Ikumi,” he said, flatly. “I think you’re all Ikumi.”
Ibumi let out a quiet laughter hidden behind her sleeve, and Seiki had to give it to her that each of the girls’ mannerism seemed different.
“Ibumi-sama,” said the District Official. “I believe this is your koto.” He placed the stringed instrument on the floor beside him, since it was too large for his little desk.
“Ah,” said Ibumi in delight. “Thank you. I’ve missed it so much!”
She then plucked a series of notes with her long fingers and smiled at the delicate Ancient 17-Stringed Koto, made from polished black painted wood.
“That thing goes in your main weapon slot?” asked Mairin in surprise.
“Of course,” said Ibumi, a hint of pride in her voice. “I’m a minstrel. Instruments are my weapons of choice.”
“What does it do?” asked Mairin.
“Well,” said Ibumi. “It plays music.”
“Come on, you know what I mean. How do you fight with it?”
Ibumi examined her koto. “Well,” she said. “I suppose you could bash someone in the head with it, though that would completely mess up the tuning.”
The kitsune sounded disappointed. “What? No magic song you can play that will hypnotize people or stuff like that?”
“No,” said Ibumi with a little laugh, before turning to the official. “And I have a biwa?”
The official browsed through his records. “Ah, yes,” he said, scuttling away behind a wooden partition, before returning with a Pearl-laden Biwa, a flat fretted lute which also occupied the main weapon slot.
The minstrel sighed. “I should have known when the Nobles said there were fifty guests that the banquet was going to end in the inevitable.”
“An invasion?” said Ippei.
“What else? Fifty guests, one of them was bound to betray you,” said Ibumi. “I was forced to flee before I even got paid and had to leave all my instruments.” She turned back to the official. “And I have a flute as well?”
The official looked again and shook his head. “I’m afraid we haven’t got that here.”
Ibumi grimaced. “Someone must have stepped on it. It was a nice Clay Flute. Lovely sound, but the problem with these is that you drop them and they shatter. And ever since last month, the price of clay has gone up like mad and now I’m going to have to spend hundreds for a new one.”
“So what do these instruments do?” asked Mairin. “I mean, what’s the point?”
“To remind people to make music and not war,” said Ibumi. “It’s like a philosophical puzzle.”
Seiki was slightly amused. “Because you can’t equip a weapon and an instrument at the same time?”
“Exactly,” said Ibumi. “Like, you get your hands on a lute and you find you can’t will yourself to play it. You then inspect it and see that it goes in the main weapon slot, so what you have to do is to unequip your weapon first, and then you’re like ‘Why do I have to unequip my sword – Oh! I get it.’ It’s indirect communication, you see.”
Ippei snickered. “Yeah, while they’re doing just about everything else they can to promote violence.”
“Depends on how you look at it, like this thing on greed as well,” the minstrel said. “I heard people say when that giant skeleton popped out last week it was allegedly because someone saw a piece of ancient armor gear on the ground with crazy stats and had to pick it up.”
“So the guy can then philosophize about how his greed has brought destruction upon the world?” asked Ippei.
“All open to interpretation. If you want to hear more, the Society hosts public debates and announcements every Sunday afternoon, with performances to recap weekly happenings around the world, told in verse and prose, by me, of course, and, mind you, I do tell very good stories. Want to hear how last week’s invasion went for the West Defenders? Want to know who now has the Ambition of the Sun Priestess? Come to the performance at the Akashika Inn. Forty gold per table.”
“Unfortunately,” said Ippei. “We’re the kind of people who would buy poison and play poison roulette if we had forty gold.”
Seiki had a feeling his friend was just trying to get rid of her.
“Shame,” Ibumi said. “Well, apparently I’ve got a siege to catch right now, and I’d rather be there to chronicle it for my next week’s performance.”
She got to her feet, her ornate kimono rustling noisily around her as she picked up her instruments and shuffled out of the room, turning to give a demure smile to the official.
“Have a good day, Ibumi-sama,” said the official. The man watched her until she disappeared through the doorway before turning back to Seiki and his friends, his expression changing. “What do you want?”
After Seiki could explain that he had lost two named weapons and would like to claim them back, the man asked him to write down his name on a piece of paper. He then yawned lazily and vanished behind a decorative wood panel.
“So what’s the point of music?” said Mairin.
“RP, maybe,” Ippei said. “It’s a weird one, actually, since it’s not really a Trade Skill, and it’s not an ability, and you can’t use it in combat, so it’s more like… a hobby. I’ve heard the instruments play exactly like the real things.”
“Why would people even do it?”
The samurai shrugged. “I heard if you play for the Inner Palace noble people, you sometimes get Honors and Favors and rare gifts. Probably to cater to people who aren’t here to kill things. The unique Needle dropped that way, after a two-hour performance by some clan a long time ago.”
“There’s a unique needle?” Seiki said.
“It’s called some fancy Needle of the Sky Princess or something like that, but it’s actually a Trade Skill dagger, which temporarily adds two levels to Trade Skills as long as you have it equipped, so you can craft higher-level items for more XP and save some money on the materials. I guess they have to please crafters, too, since everything else is a combat piece.”
Seiki wondered if having it equipped would also allow him to climb higher trees, which would make no sense but would probably be amusing.
The official soon came back with a small wooden box, containing the Kohagane dagger. The weapon looked very bluish and silvery, and so amazingly lovely that Seiki had to stare at it for a little.
“Do you happen to also have my sword?” Seiki asked, after sheathing the dagger and thrusting it through his obi in the secondary slot.
The official smiled, ambiguously. “I may or I may not.”
“Uh,” said Seiki, unsure how this worked, before remembering that he had lost his dagger a few days prior to losing his sword, and that processing time might be the issue here. “I’ve got Favor points so can you, uh, speed things up for me?” he said, cringing as he said it, and wondering why the game was teaching him to bribe government personnel.
The official looked at him, sounding a little interested. “How many?”
“Ten,” said Seiki.
“Oh, God.” Ippei groan
ed. “You’re not good at this.”
The Mannaka District Official took his time to answer. “Twelve,” he finally said.
That was when it hit Seiki that this was perhaps like the Wilderness peddlers, who needed to be haggled with. “Oh, okay,” he began. “How do I get two more—”
Ippei sighed audibly. “That’s really not how to negotiate.”
Mairin piped up. “Okay, take ten of his, two of mine.”
“Very well,” said the official.
“Wait, no, don’t do that,” Seiki said.
The kitsune giggled. “You just ate one of my Favors, so how is this any different?”
The official disappeared behind the wood panel again.
You have spent 10 Favor Points. You now have 0 Favor Points.
Seiki looked at the kitsune girl. “Thank you,” he said.
“Okay, you two are hopeless,” said Ippei. “If this ever happens again, I’ll do the talking.”
The Hikari was another thing Seiki had never really looked at closely after getting it. And now, as the official handed it back to him, he was reminded once again what a fine blade it was, gleaming white in its solid black polished sheath. Hikari - The Blade of Light. +35 attack. Damage 3.2. Speed 2.1. Range 1.1. It had scaled quite a bit since then, too.
Seiki lifted it, feeling the familiar curve of wood and the weight of the sword in his hand, and even when it had only been a few days since he had last held it, he found himself grinning as he wielded it again.
The official frowned as a sign that he was not allowed to unsheathe it all the way within the Bureau. So, as soon as Seiki got to the front garden, he could not resist the urge to draw his Hikari just to look at the white light-forged razor-sharp blade that had now become the standard by which he judged all other swords.
The cooler air made him feel alive and awake. And all around, this unfamiliar world was dawning, new and fresh. The incident was laughably small, and arguably silly, but it somehow felt like a tiny victory, and maybe from now on this was what he had to do: claim back his life, bit by bit, step by step, celebrating each moment on his way, until…
All he knew was that forward was good, and up was good. It had been such a long time since he actually felt happy about anything.
As he glanced up toward the Kano Castle, perched on the cliff on the towering mountain range, Seiki even felt a tiny spark of childish excitement.
Mairin followed his gaze and smiled. “Okay, Kano Castle, here we come.” She whistled to her horse, before pausing in surprise. “Or, rather, Kano Castle comes to you,” she added, doubtfully.
At the gate in front of the Village Bureau was a man in a long black white-trimmed kimono, marked Hiroji of the Kano Castle [Level 23], who appeared to be waiting for them, and who addressed them politely by name.
“We were expecting you. This way, please.” He beckoned toward the road. A horse carriage—drawn by a single pitch-black horse with decorative golden armor, which looked like a very fine and expensive beast—was on standby. The vehicle was painted all black and labeled European-styled Horse Carriage. Made by Michiko of the Crafters Guild.
Hiroji has added you to the Kano Castle guest list. You may now enter the territory without an invitation from clan members.
Hiroji opened the carriage door and, since only Seiki figured on the guest list, he had to invite his friends to a group in order to board together. The white fox dashed into the carriage as soon as she could. The seats were made with cream-colored leather that was cool to the touch, and the interior was painted black. Ippei hesitated for a moment before following them in.
You have entered a Kano Castle clan carriage. Destination: Kano Castle west gate. Estimated time: 8 minutes. This is an instanced carriage. You will not be able to leave the carriage once the journey starts but you may log out during.
Hiroji smiled and shut the door. Immediately, the horse, driven by a nameless NPC, started trotting down the road between the rows of buildings.
“A clan carriage?” Seiki said.
“Yeah, they’re pretty neat,” said Mairin. “Something you can unlock with Clan Honors,” she said, as she knocked on the glass. “Isn’t glass, like, anachronistic?”
“If you want to go there, lots of things are,” said Ippei. “Boots, belts, hairstyles.” He shrugged. “At least, they have an explanation for that. The ocean’s southeast of here and there’s a trading port where ships come in with so-called imported goods.”
Seiki looked at him. “Like a proper ocean?”
“Allegedly,” said the samurai. “Ryuta and I once tried to go see it, but we couldn’t make it that far, since it’s a Level 25 zone and apparently, beyond Fuoka, every tiny snail can kill you.” He chuckled in a way that suggested that it really had been a tiny snail that had cut their adventure short.
Seiki was not ready to move on from the topic, though. “You mean an ocean with water and waves and sand and all that?”
“Uh, yeah, unless there are other kinds of ocean,” said Ippei in slight confusion as to why Seiki sounded so excited.
Seiki exhaled. He would die to see the ocean one more time, even a virtual one.
The carriage took them through Mannaka and up a mountain path toward Kano Castle. The dirt road was a craggy, winding one, flanked with pine trees which occasionally parted to offer breathtaking views of Mannaka Village below. Mairin declared the ride was totally worth it, and Ippei mused silently about how difficult it would be to directly invade this particular territory.
“It’s uphill battle all the way,” said the samurai. “And quite steep. No good angle for Mounted Strike for the attacker,” he explained. “So you can’t do the lightning brigade strategy.”
“Which is?” asked Seiki.
“You just charge and soak the damage from their defenses, and have healers burn all their abilities right from the beginning.”
“Risky,” Seiki remarked.
Ippei laughed. “Probably your style.”
Before Seiki could point out that he usually did not risk anything unless he was absolutely desperate, Mairin joined the conversation. “What’s the difference between a siege and a normal invasion?” she asked.
“In daimyo territories, invasions are just messing about. You go in to kill people for Clan Honors or steal their supplies or burn their storehouses. A siege is a like a formal challenge. The whole territory is at stake, and whoever wins claims ownership over it.”
“So basically it’s go in, kill everybody, and you get the territory, just like a city territory?”
“You’ve got to breach their wall first but, yeah, it’s just that. If you die during a siege, you’re disarmed and held in the clan’s spirit shrine. Or the temporary spirit shrine outside the territory if you’re the attacker, unless your clan mates have a Resurrection Scroll and call you back into action with a Fatigue penalty. When one side is all captured in the spirit shrine, it’s over. The winning side can then be a real bastard and execute all their enemies, which will probably set them back to zero Clan Honors, destroying all their clan progress up to that point. Or you can let everyone seppuku and exile themselves for two weeks.”
“Rough,” said Mairin.
Seiki could understand now why it was a weighty decision, and why Kiku had told them that everyone preferred to just keep the status quo.
“Or, you can let everyone peacefully walk out if you’re merciful,” said Ippei.
“And does that ever happen?”
“No.”
The carriage led them to a side gate, heavily guarded by Kano Castle Soldiers [Level 18] in black uniforms, before stopping in front of a pebble-filled yard. They could not see much from here, as more buildings were hidden further uphill, but Seiki could observe that this was just a small fraction of the whole territory.
You have entered the Kano Castle clan territory. Custom combat rules apply. PVP status: enabled.
As soon as they had passed through, anot
her notification immediately flashed:
Hiroji has removed you from the Kano Castle guest list. You can no longer enter the territory without an invitation from clan members.
Seiki jumped. Since he and his friends had already passed through the border, this did not affect them, but it went to show how cautious the man was, and somehow that made Seiki feel a little uneasy.
A Kano Castle Attendant [Level 16] opened the carriage door and accompanied them across the pebble ground to a long high-ceilinged wooden hall with a light gray roof. He asked them to take off their shoes, and then beckoned to the three square red floor cushions laid out neatly in the middle of the empty hall.
“Right in the middle?” Mairin pursed her lips, and Seiki agreed that it made him feel like they were on display.
Being in animal form perhaps exempted you from rules of polite society, and Seiki watched in slight jealousy as the white fox went running along the length of the hallway to explore the premises. She soon had to stop dead in her tracks, however, to avoid bumping into a row of servants who came in carrying a stove, pots, cups and a small table.
Before long, Seiki and his friends found themselves sipping on Ceremonial-grade Matcha [Level 19 food], made by a nameless geisha girl in purple and white who smiled at them sweetly but offered no conversation.
The tea was bitter, but was probably the best thing Seiki had ever tasted, and when he finished his bowl he got an extra six hours on no Fatigue.
Ippei exhaled. “I don’t like this.”
“What? The formality?” Mairin glanced at him. “How is this any different from your dear Lord Shogun’s Palace?”
Seiki had to agree that this place did remind him of the Palace, and perhaps this was why he was feeling a little tense.
The samurai grimaced. “I know exactly how the Shogun operates. These people—”
He had to stop, since the door at the far end had slid open, admitting a man in a patterned robe and sky-blue hakama with a samurai top knot, marked Yoshinaga of the Kano Castle [Level 28]. The man dismissed the geisha girl and sat down casually on a cushion opposite them, which a servant had placed there just seconds before, as if rehearsed.