by E. M. Hardy
“Now come on, Shen. That’s not fair. You know that—”
“I know well enough what will happen if we go against you and your constructs!” Shen Feng shot back, allowing just a little bit of heat into his voice.
He glared for a moment at Martin’s walker, at the eyes painted on its face to make it a little less inhuman, before settling back in his chair with a resigned sigh.
“And I must say that it’s not as bad as I expected. The General of the White Tiger Shen Feng is obligated to be outraged that his Empire’s military might is dwarfed by its own vassal. Shen Feng the man, however, is just glad that the Empire has found both peace and prosperity… even if it means losing the glory of what it once was.”
Martin studied Shen Feng after that. The general sat there with his eyes closed, sipping his apple tea before biting into a gelatinous sweet, obviously indulging a sweet tooth.
The soul residing inside the clay walker sighed, shaking his head. “I know I’m going to regret saying this but are you up for another round of Go?”
The General of the White Tiger smirked, cracked open one eye, and quietly nodded his assent. He laid out the board, opened up his pouch of tiles, and poured out the black and white pieces back on the table.
***
On the borders between the Sahaasi Dominion and the Ren Empire,
Martin nodded as the turnover proceedings wound down, with representatives from the Sahaasi Dominion and Ren Empire shaking one another’s hands. Maharaja Venkati presided over everything, all dolled up for the event and occasionally blurting out a prepared speech.
Rich ceremonial robes of cream and gold, multiple layers of cloth for a turban, heavy trinkets hanging from his neck and ears—he even had golden ornaments dangling from his mustache, which was waxed heavily for the occasion.
The man clearly hated all the pomp, however, and was quick to discard everything as soon as the ceremonies ended. Doubly so in the hot, humid summer right on the small town right in front of Martin’s fortress—the one built in the valley demarcating the borders separating the Empire and the Dominion.
Soon enough, a line of Imperial soldiers began marching from the Sahaasi border into the waiting arms of Imperial healers and their wagons. It was an orderly and amicable affair, with the General Qiu Ja overseeing the transfer.
She wore the vestments of her station, bright red armor with a flaming phoenix helmet perched atop her hair. She frowned the whole time, but her aura revealed both relief and satisfaction at seeing Maharaja Venkati honor his word about safely returning her troops back to the Empire.
Venkati was still pulling off the last wrap around his head when Qiu Ja approached Venkati. Her armor clinked a little as she pulled back her chi, dousing the decorative flames dancing around her helmet.
“Maharaja Venkati, great ruler of the Sahaasi Dominion, it is with great pleasure that this humble servant announces the departure of the last of her Imperial troops. This turnover will not be forgotten, and you can rest assured that her Augustness will forever recognize your—”
“Oh, stuff the formalities, Qiu. I’ve had enough people kissing my ass and throwing highfaluting words in my face to last me the rest of the week.”
The nearby dignitaries gaped openly, one of them even going so far as to grasp at the hilt of the sword strapped to her waist. These people were fresh from the Sahaasi cities, never having been with the Maharaja for the campaign—and thus had no idea about the relationship between Venkati and Qiu Ja.
Instead of being taken by surprise, however, the General of the Vermillion Bird smirked, biting her tongue to prevent laughing out loud.
“Very well, Maharaja Venkati.” She pulled out a few sheets of paper, no doubt the speech she had memorized for this event, and skimmed through the words written on it.
“Blah blah, Imperial recognition of independence… blah blah, the Empress’ protection… blah blah, hoping for lasting peace between our peoples… blah blah blah, and you are now recognized as a royal peer by the Empress Zi Li herself.”
She rolled the sheets back up and tapped them lightly with a knuckle. “And just like that, everything should be okay between the Empire and the Dominion. Assuming, of course, you actually uphold the treaty and don’t stab us in the back again.”
“I think we can manage that, as long as the Empire doesn’t give us cause to,” Venkati dared back, not even wincing at the general’s barb. Martin, however, groaned and smacked Venkati’s shoulder.
“Don’t even start. Do you have any idea how much grief the Empress gave me when I tried to convince her it was better to let bygones be bygones? She wanted your head, Venkati, and she was willing to sacrifice Qiu Ja and her people to get it. The least you can do is play nice.”
Venkati glared at Martin’s walker before sighing with a shake of his head. “Oh, very well.” He turned back to the General with a more solemn expression on his face.
“You don’t need to worry about anything, Qiu Ja. Just because my people have thrown away the shackles of the Empire doesn’t mean we’ll carry a grudge. At least not for long. Besides, the rice and iron you’re sending our way helps smooth things out a lot.”
The general shrugged as Venkati took the papers from her hand. “It goes both ways, I guess. The Empire isn’t above accepting the sugar and bananas of a rebellious breakaway province.” Her own attendants from the Imperial capital looked at her like she sprouted a second head.
“Well. I guess that’s that then. I… guess you’re going to be stationed at Martin’s fortress, yes? Take it over and garrison it with your troops? When you get back from debriefing the Empress in the Red City, I mean.”
Qiu Ja smiled sadly as she studied Venkati from head to toe. Her scrutiny didn’t go unnoticed, as Venkati started to squirm under her intense scrutiny.
“Oh, my. Is that a touch of forlorn hope I detect in your aura, Maharaja Venkati? It shouldn’t take long for me to arrive at the capital, what with Martin’s new roads making the trip go a lot faster.”
Venkati visibly lit up at that, at least until Qiu Ja continued. “The Empress, however, will most likely decide to relieve me of my station, as I was incompetent enough to lose my entire command to rebels in a single week.”
That revelation caused Venkati to sag. “That’s… not good. Zi Li is not known for her forgiveness. You know, if the Empress is going to order you to swallow your sword, you could always just—”
“Shush, Venkati. I will face my fate, whatever it might be. I have to accept my failures, after all. But before that…”
Qiu Ja took off her phoenix helmet, a few strands of hair coming loose from the bun tying it all together, and strode boldly toward Venkati. Before the big man knew what was happening, Qiu Ja closed in with Venkati and growled out something low and indecipherable.
The Maharaja narrowed his eyes at first, then widened them out in shock. His ghurkas stiffened at her approach, their mandala tattoos glowing with power at the perceived threat, but Venkati held out a palm to hold them back. Venkati hissed back his reply, low and quiet but urgent and violent. Qiu Ja shook her head and patted Venkati on the shoulder before turning around.
“Worry not about it, Maharaja Venkati. Just one less regret before I prostrate myself before the Empress and accept her decree.”
Martin thought things would be left at that, wondering about their discussion, but Venkati’s face purpled as a vein popped on his temple and he furiously shook his head.
“No. That is unacceptable. Unacceptable!” This was perhaps the first time Martin ever saw the Maharaja’s aura go red with rage, with a tinge of jade possessiveness. “It is not too late to amend the conditions of the peace treaty. I will—"
“It is, and you know it. Now stop being a spoiled brat, Venkati. You are the Maharaja of your people…” Qiu Ja adjusted her helmet back on, refusing to face Venkati as she turned and beckoned to her people. “…and you must accept the reality before you—realities t
hat lay before all of us.” The general marched at that, back to the men and women under her command.
One walker remained behind with Venkati, who glared daggers at Qiu Ja’s armored back as she marched toward the Clay Fortress. Another walker, however, trotted in beside Qiu Ja.
“Hmm.”
“Shut it, clay man,” hissed the General of the Vermillion Bird, keeping her eyes trained forward to her men. “I do not want to hear a single word out of you.”
“You do realize—”
“Not another word.”
“It’s just that—"
“Not. Another. Word.” Qiu Ja intended the words to come out menacing, threatening. Her voice hitched, however, and Martin realized that the General of the Vermillion Bird was trying desperately to keep the pain from showing itself.
“Okay. Okay, I got it.”
Martin truly got it then as he realized the reason for the general’s pain. Using another walker, he studied the Maharaja Venkati. Martin peered through the haze of anger and indignation flashing predominantly in his aura and found the same sadness and regret buried underneath it all.
Yes, the General of the Vermillion Bird would have to face the Empress, explain what happened—and accept the consequences of her ignoble defeat, no matter how deadly those may be.
***
Ooshima Island, in the Isles of Taiyo,
“That’s the fourth cache I’ve found, Ishida.”
The Shogun-elect simply nodded as he lifted the top of the nearest crate. In it sat a dozen jian swords: straight, double-sided blades with a pointed tip—the sword of choice for Imperial officers and many martial artists in the field.
What made this batch special, however, was the fact that crimson veins branched throughout the surface of the weapons. The existence of these shouldn’t be an issue since blood-bound weapons were no longer exclusively used and crafted by Taiyo samurai. Enough people knew how to bind their own blood to their blades that blood-bound weapons were already starting to become a common-enough sight throughout the land.
What made this particular batch problematic, however, was that they were being stockpiled by an agent from the Order of Rats.
Every nation in the continent outlawed the forceful binding of blood taken from unwilling donors. If you wanted to create your own blood-bound weapons, you would have to do so using your own blood. You could also voluntarily donate your blood for a price, but that was done in strictly-controlled settings where everything was signed and witnessed.
After all, nobody wanted a repeat of the depravities committed by the previous Shogun, Inagaki Nobumoto—not even the people of Taiyo itself.
Ishida shifted a little, clutching the hilt of his own blood-bound katana in the process as he examined the Rat’s corpse. “I can confirm that the blood in these blades was forcefully taken, not freely given. I can also confirm that this woman is indeed a known agent within the Order of Rats.”
“Dammit,” Martin huffed, shaking the head of one walker even while two other walkers covered up the woman’s corpse. Martin didn’t even kill her, just corner her after a prolonged chase with his eyeballs. Instead of surrendering, however, she chose to put a knife through her own heart.
“If the Rats have been kidnapping people, draining them for their blood, then that explains the rising number of missing people all over the Isles. But what for? What reason could they have to stockpile blood-bound weapons like this?”
Ishida grimaced at that. “Rest assured, Martin, that my people have nothing to do with this. These Rats may have been loyal to Inagaki, but they have proven to be nothing more than fanatics to a dead ideology.
“I have personally beheaded more than my fair share of Rats who have tried sabotaging the new government.” The shogun-elect growled out the words, glaring at the walker in front of him. Martin didn’t understand the sudden hostility, then froze up as he realized the error of his ways.
“Oh. Oh! Wait, I didn’t mean to imply that you or yours had something to do with their actions! I was simply talking out loud, wondering what the hell they’re doing with these weapons. I mean… why jian and not katanas?”
Martin’s earnest apology and subtle deflection calmed Ishida down somewhat. He cast his glance all around, first on the weapons in front of him then to the bodyguards keeping watch for his safety—three samurai retainers loyal to him and three Balancers sent by the Empress to monitor the results of this investigation.
Ishida took them in as a gesture of goodwill, to show that he was actively pursuing this threat of forced blood-binding.
“I don’t quite know, to be honest,” responded the Shogun-elect, more subdued now that he realized Martin wasn’t throwing blame his way.
“The Rats should know that stockpiling blood-bound weapons and burying them in caches doesn’t make sense. They simply don’t last long if they’re not regularly fed fresh blood, and the blood channels will simply wither away if they starve for long enough.
“This is the reason why a large store of blood-bound weapons cannot be maintained for long. The only reason Inagaki could gather so many weapons for his army was his willingness to slaughter the population of entire cities.”
“And yet the Rats are piling up blood blades all the same,” Martin quipped, tapping the chin of his walker as he pondered the issue.
He then nodded with his walker at that before turning to the Balancers. “Are you satisfied with Ishida’s explanations? That the Sovereignty has nothing to do with these illegally-made weapons?”
The Balancers stood still, staring at Martin’s walker from behind their expressionless masks. “We will relay the Shogun’s words to the Empress.” Bland, noncommittal, and somewhat threatening—something that neither Martin nor Ishida wanted to hear.
“Look,” Ishida said as he ground his teeth. “The Assembly of Representatives is still drafting up laws to improve the governance of the Isles. The Court of Judges is scrambling to find a fair way to implement the laws. I am busy reorganizing the various militias into a cohesive army that adheres to the principles of Bushido.
“You tell this Empress of yours… You tell Empress Zi Li that the Isles of Taiyo are far too busy attending to their own affairs to even think about starting anything with the Empire.”
“Noted,” replied the closest masked Balancer, the one with a slim sword strapped to his waist.
“Wait,” Martin interrupted, raising a finger. “Now that we know what the Rats are doing, it would be a lot easier to smoke them out of their hiding holes. Just check around the areas where we see a spike in missing people. I can expand my eyeball network to cover more ground and maybe I can ask the League for aid tracking down the Rats as well.
“Maybe the Balancers could help if they are so inclined to do so?” The last sentence came out more like a hopeful question than a statement.
The lead Balancer stared at Martin’s walker for a few seconds before nodding curtly. “That can be arranged.”
“Excellent,” Martin said with a sigh of relief. He just hoped that the Balancers acted in good faith and weren’t just paying him lip service.
***
At the Red Court, the seat of power within the Ren Empire,
“And that’s the gist of things, so far,” Martin concluded as he wrapped up his report.
The various ministers of finance around the table sighed with relief as Martin’s walker shuffled his papers back into a neat stack. The Empress, however, did not share in that relief. Instead, she continued studying the papers before her, frowning with a petite face that was quickly filling out—sharpening features that turned the youthful, childish girl into a sharp-eyed bird of prey.
This was especially true now that she swapped her ceremonial robes out for a more functional set of clothes. True, her skirts and her sleeves were still gaudy enough to mark her as much further above in station than those around her, but they were still a far cry from the glittering jewels and billowing folds of
her usual court attire.
“We find it hard to believe,” she sniffed, “that the Isles of Taiyo have recovered so quickly after Inagaki’s rebellion. They just lost more than half of their population, with so many widows and orphans running about, and you claim that they are already producing enough goods to not only match but exceed Imperial exports?”
Martin nodded at that. “It is true, your highness. The Taiyo Sovereignty has focused strongly on agriculture and aquaculture. They are also liberally availing of the financial tools made available to them by the League of Merchants. Investments and low-interest loans are pouring in, fueling the Taiyo economy as the islands specialize in one form of production or another.
“For example, Chishima focuses more on cultivating oysters for their flesh and pearls while Ooshima grows wasabi and mushrooms for export. Then you have Aoshima that digs up minerals for dyes—I hear their blue dyes have a nice, vibrant shine to them that doesn’t wash out easily.
“Then you have pine nuts from the forests of Kuroshima, bamboo from the hills of Kinoshima, tuna from Hayashima’s fishing fleets… we can blame the Assembly of Representatives for this diversity. They passed resolutions encouraging each clan to specialize and prevent them from stepping on one another’s toes.”
The head-honcho of the assembled ministers, a balding man with a pockmarked face called Lu Xin, chuffed at Martin’s last statement. “This Assembly doesn’t make sense if you ask me. Two hundred people, all stuck into one place and shouting above one another? And then they’ll get replaced in a few short years? I am honestly surprised they can get anything done at that rate.
“No, I think this League of Merchants is just throwing money at the Isles. Take the League’s money away, and the savages will fall back down on their faces, revert to their barbarous ways.”
Martin shrugged with his walker’s shoulders. “I have heard talk down in the Bashri that some of the Emirates want to study how the Isles does things. They seem to believe that copying the representative system of the Isles will make them money in the long run. They’re also talking it over with the League of Merchants to fund their ventures.”