"We captured enough it seems," Charles replied, leaning forward in his chair. "The Port District did not take kindly to the news that these people attacked the Children of Zansui Warstalker."
"And after the Tale of your Father's bravery had spread." Charles smiled sadly. "Not even the Rilstarin members could hide."
"Speaking of Father's." Zansui glanced around. "Where is mine?"
"Attending King's Business," Rebekka answered quickly. "And if I know him he will be hounding after Kral soon after."
"Like I should be." Grigs offered an uncharacteristic growl as he limped to sit next to Zansui. "If I could be healed with magic like the rest of you I would be dragging that old fool to a cell right now."
"You still want him alive?" Zansui asked in genuine surprise.
"My Father did not want the murdering fuck dead." Grigs answered meekly, if not immediately. "I will respect his wishes, and I will make damn sure Jeria respects it as well."
"Well, the Akuza and Kral Mastershield is connected. We found enough evidence in the tunnel beneath the Warehouse." Charles reported, then shook his head. "But there is nothing but hear-say about Gorgreen funding them."
"And I can confirm that the Din weaponry used had been stolen from the Enclave," Islin added, leaning forward to be recognized. "I have word from the Councilman Inumint that they are still trying to find out how the Armory had been robbed."
"They also express their regret that it was a Subspike that has robbed you of your Father."
"The weapon is blameless." Grigs shouted down the table. "But the blame of this all falls on Kral Mastershield, and Dalitrous Gorgreen."
"Who is being handled." Rebekka had answered.
Grigs slammed his fist into the table. "How many more has to die to his schemes before he is punished for it?!"
"How many more Fathers and Mothers?!" Grigs raged on, and his face twisted as he turned away. "Gods dammit kill the son of a bitch already."
Zansui leaned against her husband but did not look supportive of her Aunt's answer.
"Grigs is right, Dalitrous has to pay for this."
"And he will." Rebekka frowned darkly.
"But when?" Trezzar questioned, which drew eyes to the heavily cloaked dark elf. "If Gorgreen is the source of all this anguish he should be dealt with-"
"-the plan is to allow the Darkscales to take the City," Rebekka said loudly, and Trezzar fell silent. "As we withdrawal, allowing the citizens to fall back to the Port District, I have been given assurances that the Shadow of Westwatch will pay the Traitor Gorgreen a very short visit."
"And Razzar will be there." Gray chimed from Razzar's shoulder. "As well as Indbore Fel. It will not be a suicide mission as it had been with the Thieves Guild."
"A risky plan." Charles frowned in thought. "I believe Walls were meant to keep people outside."
"It will be easier to deal with a massive army in a confined space. Force them into cramped positions where they cannot readily flank you." Rebekka replied, and gestured towards Islin. "The King took inspiration from the Paladin Commander Islin here, who used a similar sort of strategy during a recent battle."
"Granted it was not as large nor will we find ourselves surrounded." Islin bowed slightly. "To be honest, I did not know they had so many coming at us, or I would have abandoned my position altogether."
"Who is this Crusader you brought with you today Islin?" Zansui observed, shifting to get a better look at the Crusader. "His mane and eyes are different, but he looks a lot like you."
The armor they wore had been modified at the greaves for their double-jointed legs, but it was a suit of chain and plate decorated with the Blue Roses of the Order. Draping from hip had been a longsword, the other had hand ax of dwarven make. Their hair was a warm auburn brown, and their eyes were vibrant and very light blue.
But as Zansui pointed out, they looked to be a younger Islin.
"This is Suun." Islin smiled warmly, shifting in his seat to look up at their eldest son. "It has been his detachment that has been aiding Trezzar with seeking the Nameless Cult temples."
Suun offered clunking fist on his breastplate, and a bow at the hips. "I wish I could have met you all under better circumstances, but I have read, and heard much of you all."
"Suun is not a Din name," Charles pointed out, raising his brows. "Being controversial or is this Illindan's doing?"
"Partially both, yes." Islin nodded, offering a shrug. "But my family was already cast in dishonor before I was born, so I rightly do not mind the controversy. My son was named after a Kallaxian Samurai who sheltered us the winter he was born."
"Dishonored?" Charles blurted, and even Grigs frowned in concerned.
"No one asked why I never spoke my family name?" Islin asked, looking uncomfortable suddenly. "It is because I do not have one. I and my Wife were outcasts, our families having said or done something to offend the Pantheon enough to warrant exile, but not execution."
"If not for the Din War, I would have been attending to the sick and needy in my Father's Pantheon Hall outside the Capital. I was called into service as a Healer just prior to the invasion of Rilstar. The rest is history." Islin shrugged, and stood, patting Suun on the shoulder. "My son is not only the First Din Crusader but one of the first to be named outside of the holy letter of I."
"Thankfully they named me after the Samurai." Suun grunted, glancing around them all with a half smile. "What my Father is not telling you is that my Mother wanted to name me after the Samurai's dog, which translated from Kallaxian to be called Spot."
Even Grigs could not help but laugh, and though Zansui too was smiling, she lightly punched her husband in the shoulder.
"What is wrong with being named after a pet?" the Half-Elf demanded, though happy that her Husband's humor remained somewhat intact. "I was named after my Mother's cat!"
"Oh and you turned out fine too didn't you?" Grigs smirked and was punched again.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing, just something Dad would say." Grigs offered sadly, though continued to smile. "Or something he would chastise me for saying."
"I am going to miss him." Grigs looked up towards the stone urn. "I am going to miss him so much."
"I know, love." Zansui hugged her husband's arm, leaning into him. "I know."
"They are going to pay for this," Grigs swore, leaning against Zansui. "Every single last one of them."
"As I said, my boy." Rebekka reached over and clasped his hand. "It will be taken care of."
Epilogue
There was really no real name for the ship they had called home for more than eight months, but it was the one most of the Daimyo had ridden with their forces. It was heavily anchored to keep it from rocking uncontrollably, and as long as the weather continued to be agreeable, it almost felt as if they were on land.
It also helped that most of the quarters styled for the Lords of Kallax were modeled after private chambers where Lords and Generals held meetings of importance. It was complete with their own bathing area, and a more spacious alcove for a padded sleeping cot.
There had was a table where the Lord may dine with those closest to him, and the rooms padded with noise-reducing material for the Lord's convenience in order to prevent rivals from eavesdropping in on conversations that were not meant for others to be heard.
Traginos Uginaga sat with his top lieutenants, as well as several of his sons. The discussion was not hushed, but it made use of the reinforced walls, considering Traginos was not at all pleased.
Their attempt to become Emperor had been placed on hold thanks in part to a family that should have been run out of the Port District by now. Hayabatsu' continued stubbornness in giving the Rilstarin's a chance to prove their respect for Kallaxian culture had been chief to blame.
Yet Traginos wanted to blame Jeria Warstalker, and that woman who did not know her place, Zansui.
"The Warstalkers nor the Jakuuls are as weak as we were led to assume." spoke one Kallaxian. "The Forces we lent
the Boss were utterly crushed."
"Were they all slain?" Traginos asked, turning towards the speaker.
"No, my Lord, but we have lost three-quarters of the forces before they admitted defeat."
"Then they fought with honor. Will they be returned?" spoke another, Traginos' youngest son.
"They have failed me." Traginos frowned darkly. "I do not want them returned. I will not pay their ransom, let them rot."
"There is no ransom asked for my Lord." said the first, and they bowed as Traginos regarded with a mild look of confusion. "They were released to return to Kallax."
"Then strip them of their weapons and armor, put them to the sword when they arrive," Traginos ordered with a dismissive gesture. "They should have fought the Rilstarin Dogs to the Death."
The wooden, sliding door to Traginos' quarters, which the meeting was taking place, opened partially, and the retainer outside could be seen looking away.
"Lord, Hayabatsu is here to see you."
"I will not see him," Traginos replied loudly.
The retainer was kicked from their position and the door slid open further. Though Lord Hayabatsu stood on the other side, they were not alone, and they did not lay a finger on the retainer.
Beside the Legendary Samurai Lord had been Jeria Warstalker. It had been their boot that shoved the retainer away. It had been their glare that sent the retainer scrambling down the corridor.
There was a smile on Jeria's face. One that chilled all who lay eyes on it to the core.
"I am afraid I must be insistent." Hayabatsu bowed, just before he entered.
"How dare you!" Traginos put his hand on his sword as he rose, as did his Lieutenants and his Sons.
Jeria stared them all down, unimpressed with the whole lot of them.
Hayabatsu stepped around the Shin-no-Kage, and where Jeria showed contempt, Hayabatsu had pity.
"The Akuza in the Port District has been stamped out, my Lord Traginos." Hayabatsu announced, placing his hands behind his back. "And there had been an attempt on the Lady Warstalker's life while in my care. So I will dare."
"Then we are even on the insult of you storming unwelcome in my quarters." Traginos nearly spat, taking his hand off his sword long enough to gesture towards Jeria. "But if you seek to intimidate me with your chained dog-"
"-the Shadow of Death is here on his own accord, we simply happen to travel on the same boat." Hayabatsu shook his head, not even glancing towards Jeria. "I am simply here to make a statement."
"I will not hear it." Traginos waved Hayabatsu away.
"Again, you are mistaken, Lord Uginaga, the statement is not for you." Hayabatsu regarded the youngest of Traginos' sons. "I have been made aware that you were chastised recently, Lord Ogaka, for being lax with the taxation of your peasantry."
"Lord?" Ogaka looked confused a moment and bowed forward. "I am still not as wise as my Father so-"
"-that was not a question for you to answer," Hayabatsu stated flatly, pointing towards Ogaka, or more accurately their pauldron. "They are marked by their Family crest on their shoulder."
"Spare the Sons." Hayabatsu directed towards Jeria, then promptly turned around and walked away. "And I will not object,"
"Treachery!" Traginos shouted.
And that had been the last thing he managed to say. Jeria had cleared their sitting table and plunged the Masamune right into their face.
The next attack brought low one of the Lieutenants. Then another. By the time the others had managed to pull their weapons, Jeria had slain the rest of the Uginaga senior military with shocking speed and efficiency before he turned on the last.
Uginaga had three sons, and Jeria injured one with a light slash across their chest, biting through their armor enough to draw blood before he shoved them back into the arms of their brothers.
Flicking the blood clean from his weapon, Jeria housed the Masamune in that fine, red scabbard, and regarded the three brothers before him with a cruel smile.
"So long as I breathe." Jeria bowed slightly, and though he smiled, there was a sinister edge to his voice as he spoke fluent, perfect Kallaxian. "I am the consequence when you threaten the people of Rilstar. Do you understand?"
"You murdered our Father-"
"-and yet you still live," Jeria responded quickly, spreading his arms out in challenge. "And you are plotting vengeance or gathering courage do so. Come after the man who killed your Father without hesitation, mercy or fear."
"Come after the man who did not kill your Father's kin to reach him. Who did not target the defenseless people to hinder or hurt him. Who honored your Samurai when he would not."
"You have a choice, the three of you." Jeria stared down at each one. "Rule with honor, beneath the shadow of a Monarch of Foreign Origin until the day you or your Children may once more take the throne as kind, benevolent rulers who would never abandon any to their fate. Reforge the Uginaga Clan and temper it to be respected once more."
"Or you may face the consequence of your actions just like your Father."
"Dog!" one Brother shoved their way past their kin, and attempted to shove their blade through Jeria's exposed chest. The Rilstarin Samurai spun, using the flat of his Dragonfist encased hand to knock the katana wide.
For an instant, the attacking Brother seem to mimic Jeria's previous, open armed poise as the Rilstarin had been a blur of movement, spinning on the spot like a dancer in a show.
Finishing the spin, Jeria activated the Dragonfist and brought it hammering into the Brother's face. There was a soggy, wet crunch, and the body of what had been the eldest crumbled into the bloodstained deck.
The other two brothers watched in horror, and for the longest time, could not look away from what had transpired against their kin.
When they did, Jeria was still standing in the same spot, arms wide, and that chilling smile on their face.
"Choose. Honor or Death."
They regarded each other before they looked at the carnage that had been wrought before them. The ruin of their clan had supposedly brought on themselves by picking a fight with Jeria, and his.
They youngest sheathed their sword first and aided their middle brother in stowing theirs.
"One day, I will seek you out, Shadow of Death." Ogaka, the youngest swore, their voice trembling with rage. "I will demand satisfaction."
"As will I." the other concurred.
Jeria dropped his arms and bowed yet again "Until that day, be just and kind to your people, and the people of Rilstar."
When Jeria rose, again he flashed that same, wicked smile. "Or do not, and I will meet you again sooner then someday."
With a tentative step back, and a glance at the carnage at his feet, Jeria offered a bow to the last two Uginaga Clansmen standing.
As Jeria rose, that smile remained as he offered with no real sincerity, “My condolences on your loss.”
<><><><><><><>
They were unmolested by the Samurai on post who bowed and stepped out of their path. They both walked down a plank to a barge that would take them back to the Docks, and took opposite seats within a cabin.
Indbore Fel had been sat at that table as well, looking from one to the other, yet neither acknowledged the swordsman. Jeria pulled the Masamune, scabbard and all, placing it on the table, before removing the sword from its housing, then fished a whetstone from some hidden place beneath his breastplate.
Without the need, Jeria slowly started to sharpen the metal of a weapon that never dulled.
Fel, after a few moments of the grinding, leaned forward on the table. “Why did you bring me?”
Jeria paused in the grinding, and slowly adjusted his eyes in Fel’s direction. “Obvious, isn’t it? I have as much trust with you near my Family as I do Grigs near you at this point in time.”
“It is either I kill you or keep you close.”
“We can settle this now.” Fel offered with a sneer.
“Like you did with Nassin?” Jeria questioned back with a raise
d brow.
Fel’s expression faltered, and he leaned back from the table without a word.
“How do I know?” the Worg Rider asked, gesturing towards Fel, “You smell of guilt. It is in your action and expressions, my Sister noted you were acting differently, and unlike before where you claimed you fought Grigs’ Mother in a duel, I offer the accusation and you retract in silence.”
“My question to you is, Lord Fel, is that did you do it for yourself, or your Lord at the time?”
Fel glanced towards Hayabatsu, who did not move, and their expression remained pleasant despite the subject matter, or the company. Fel could have lied. He could have denied it. He was afraid to admit that he killed Nassin, mostly in part of Jeria’s reaction.
Then Fel realized he was being afraid of a man he hated, and gritted his teeth a moment in fresh rage.
“I, find that I did not really wish to kill him at all.” Fel finally admitted, turning their gaze towards Jeria. “I murdered someone who was more a Father to me then the man I served.”
“For Lord.” Hayabatsu seemed to clarify for Jeria, who momentarily looked to him as if he needed the answers translated.
“Dismissing the fact that saving my Wife’s Soul is now our joined quest, I am a man of my word,” Jeria nodded slowly, and gestured with that whetstone again, this time to the Daimyo “Ask him if you would think otherwise.”
Jeria continued, though never directly looked on Fel as he spoke. “You saved my Family, Fel, you saved my Daughter, my Grandchildren, and a man I respect from Death.”
“For that I will not skin you alive while you sleep as I promised you.” Jeria observed, once more applying Whetstone to the Masamune, “I thought you’d like to know.”
“How very considerate of you my Lord,” Fel offered consensendingly.
“Don’t call me that. We are here for Elandra.” Jeria dismissed, turning the Katana over to inspect the otherside.
“She was a good woman, wasn’t she?” Fel questioned, which took both Hayabatus and Jeria by surprise. “She called me Sir once. I remember, I remember her voice.”
“Can you?” Jeria asked, putting the sword and the Whetstone on the table. “What do you know of her to risk your life for hers?”
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