The First Spear

Atop his horse—his pupil nowhere to be found—Hukama began to flee the city with the remainder of his forces. All in all, he didn’t lose that many men. He simply had been outmaneuvered and with such short time constrains, he had to order a strategic withdrawal. With the other Mikuman daimyōs certainly on their way to Yukai City, his opportunity to take the capital had been lost.

Commander Momata road up beside him. He looked about. “I think General Koto was killed.”

Hukama sighed. “We’ve fought many battles, have we not, Momata-san?”

“We have, my daimyō.”

“How have I been defeated? Was I arrogant?”

His general seemed to ponder the question for a time as they filed out of the city. Their rear was still under attack, and though they were losing men, it was no rushed retreat. The advantage lay with the enemy, and Hukama was far from defeated as numbers went, but now that the advantage lay squarely with the defenders, and more of their armies on the way, only a full retreat remained to him.

His campaign to take control of the Mikuma capital lay wasted.

“Perhaps we underestimated our foe,” Momata finally said. “It seems Daimyō Sakuraichi was no simple traitor.”

Hukama nodded stoically. He was not used to defeat. But will my failure here lead to other defeats—will my legacy be forever tarnished?

“There is always next time, my lord.”

Hukama chuckled. “Yes, there are many more conquests. I must achieve my aims of becoming a sovereign of this world. I am not content to merely serve an imperial power.”

For all his austere behavior and stoicism, Hukama was no man who lacked ambition. Indeed, he had far more ambition than most, and his lifestyle choices reflected his sheer devotion to his goal.

“I feel shame,” he said.

“You have no course to feel this way, my daimyō,” Momata said. “We were simply outmatched. It was a daring attempt.”

That drove even deeper, though Momata didn’t seem to notice. Had he succeeded here, Hukama would have added to his legendary status considerably. What’s more, I would have shed my moniker known as The First Spear—a tool of Daixen. I wish to be no one’s tool. I will be known to be my own man, servant of none. A ruler of nations and a legendary general.

He looked about through the rain at what he had wrought. Yukai City still smoldered, most of all near the palace district, which was now being held by Sakuraichi’s forces.

Hukama could probably take that stronghold, but the chances of resurgence in the current military atmosphere was so staggeringly low, that he hadn’t bothered entertaining the idea.

Breathing in deeply, he looked ahead, feeling a sense of annoyance with Ujiwara, his disciple. He would be punished after returning. Hukama saw to that.

Now, he looked forward, to whatever new horizons and opportunities lay ahead of him.

The Failed Mage [This one was written longhand]

Hukama’s fleeing forces covered the streets. Because the stragglers were in such haste, they didn’t notice Lawrence or Muji and his ninja. The unlikely group kept out of their way to keep from making themselves an easy target.

The enemy’s detachment would pose further problems for them soon enough. Muji’s captains must have known this, because their forces were pursuing the retreating army through the streets.

They walked silently. The huge samurai nodded in satisfaction. “Good,” he said. “We will have to defend this new position.”

“That shouldn’t be difficult,” Lawrence said, “now that your forces and the rest of Sakuraichi’s can link together.”

The streets in this area were now filling with Mikuma warriors. The failed mage just remembered something. He was still surprised by his sudden and unexpected allies he had gained. Muji had asked him about The White Feather—Haku.

“You asked me about The White Feather before.”

The Masked Demon perked up at these words. Evidentially he had also forgotten about the woman. Lawrence’s thoughts were a jumble. The samurai’s emphatic response surprised him.

“She’s not far from here,” he said, feeling a pang of regret, wishing he could say the same for Sakura. He had no idea where she was or if she were even alive still.

But he also felt regret for Haku. I asked her to accompany me, and now she’s probably dead. “I don’t know if she’s still alive.”

“Where is she?”

Lawrence told him her approximate location, as he was uncertain. The last time he had seen the warrior woman, she had been flying through the air—and not in a way that boded well.

“We must send out warriors to find her at once!”

Does he know her personally? Does he care for her? Lawrence swallowed, feeling a pit in his stomach.

“I’m also looking for someone,” he said. “Can you help me?”

Muji glanced at him as they came upon sentries guarding the streets they had taken. “Perhaps,” he said, “though I don’t know why I help you at all, gaijin.”

“Come now, big man,” Lawrence said in reply. “I thought we were friends. Tomodachi da.”

How he managed the tone of levity even though Sakura was missing, he didn’t know. Perhaps he had been a mercenary for too long.

Muji breathed out heavily as he and Lawrence were assisted by samurai warriors and brought into a surgery tent that had just been set up.. “Very well, mage,” Muji said. “I will help you, but only because I know you will not be a hindrance to us. Besides, I like you.”

Lawrence couldn’t help but smile, both in relief and because of this unlikely camaraderie he had found. The Masked Demon was intimidating at the least, and ferocious to behold.

Some time passed as the two warriors received attentions for their wounds. Muji ordered a party out to go search for Haku. To Lawrence’s relief, he also ordered several parties to search the surrounding machiyas for Sakura. But the samurai he had sent out, returned far too soon.

Something is wrong…

“I told you to head out!“ Muji growled.

“We did, General Muji-sama, but…”

“What?”

The warrior pushed open the tent flap and Haku limped in. Lawrence nearly gasped as Sakura, Ishi, and Hiun came in behind her.

The Hurg Assassin

Walking with the baggage train while Hukama retreated, Urhaggha stayed close beside the carriage where Yuko was. The Daimyō Sakuraichi had thought Urhaggha was his paid assassin, but in truth, he belonged to Hukama—for the time being.

The Hurg assassin glanced about, the dark rain clouds sweeping in, bringing a massive storm with them. The wind was picking up and becoming heavy.

There was a flash overhead and a crack ripped across the sky.

He had doubled as Sakuraichi’s assassin. Normally the Hurg would never conduct himself so, but he had been paid by Hukama for just such a task, and though they only partially succeeded at their goal, Urhaggha would be paid, as the legendary general had kept him on retainer. Regardless of Hukama’s own successes or failures, Urhaggha had carried out the majority of his task, leaving only the princess alive.

Despite all this, something rankled. Had his pride been damaged at his defeat in also removing the princess from the board?

I must reflect on what has happened.

As a civilized individual, Urhaggha would understand himself—these feelings he was having. He would not be a slave to his passions, like so many around him were.

Even emperors fell in the midst of their dreams that went against reason and logic, and rational thought. Emperor Kurosawa’s own daimyō had betrayed him. He had no doubt that the Mikuma people would be better off for it. The common people were probably in high support of his actions—had they even known what he was doing.

Urhaggha nodded to himself.

The Princess Heir

Princess Noriko stood on the prow of the ship. The Akaima Dancing Fan was underway and they had just left the harbor and were out in the open sea.

The clouds roiled above, and Noriko thought it might start to rain when a cold splash of spray sprinkled her as the ship cut against the choppy waves. She turned back to watch the crew at work. There were hardly any of them, and most of the deck was covered in refugees who milled about, glancing this way and that with uncertainty and fear in their eyes.

The princess would have felt relieved of their escape from Mikuma, had it not been for the deaths of her father and brother.

She wiped her cheek with the palm of her hand as she held herself with her other arm.

“Princess?”

She didn’t turn to look at Mika. “What is it?”

“Nothing. I just wanted to suggest that maybe we go inside. It’s cold out.”

“Not yet.”

Her eyes were welling, partially from the cold air, but mostly because of her loss. Why did this happen? Why was this allowed to happen?

Noriko found herself biting her lip. It hurt, but she didn’t care. Was it because her father was weak? He and grandfather had been so idealistic. But was that idealism misplaced?

“Princess…” It was Dija now.

She felt the loyal cat eye place her large hand atop her shoulder. It was warm and comforting, but Noriko didn’t want to go inside right now. “Not yet, Dija.” The princess stared off across the dark water. The ship was practically limping along. “I will return,” she said.

“Of course,” Mika said.

“Perhaps one day,” Dija added.

Noriko could sense the doubt in Dija. She was always logical and pragmatic. “I will.”

They had been wrong. Believing that Mikuma had moved beyond the need for armies and strong daimyōs with military authority.

Our enemies were unopposed and the loyalties of our people divided.

“When I return,” she added, “I won’t be a weak ruler as my father and grandfather were.”

Neither Mika nor Dija said anything in response. Noriko squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. She resolved to take on the challenge that the world had laid before her—that the weakness of her empire could not overcome.

“I never was an idealistic fool.”

The Dancer

“We are unlikely allies,” Muji said, their new camp flanking him. The frightening samurai was addressing Lawrence. “I believe it best that you leave Yukai City immediately.”

There was something unsaid between them. Something Lawrence hadn’t understood. He had told Sakura as much, and she too knew this, having seen them dual in the palace grounds.

They had stormed the palace after Hukama’s warriors and seemed to be allied with the invaders, but then attacked them. It was confusing, but Sakura, not being naive, knew something had been at play.

But now there are too many pedals on the stage to make sense of these steps without very careful investigation.

All they knew, was that some kind of coup had happened, because the princess was still on the Akaima Dancing Fan about to set sail across the sea—as Lawrence informed her.

He nodded to the large samurai and they rejoined Hiun in his magic circle he had drawn. Bright light enveloped them as he magicked them away.

Reappearing in the forest just off the shore, they could see the ship, still waiting for them. “I can’t wait to see my parents,” Sakurai said as she pulled at Lawrence toward the docks.

Their hands had been entangled together ever since being reunited. The warmth of their skin was clammy and in a way, uncomfortable, and Sakura loved it—wouldn’t detach her hand from his for anything.

They made for the docks when Lawrence glanced toward Ishi and put a hand around his shoulders. “I can’t believe you came looking for me, you little fool.”

“I brought Hiun for help,” the boy said. The oni raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“Sure you did,” Lawrence said, dismissing the boy’s nonsense. Ishi smiled as Lawrence ruffled his hair.

Sakura looked forward. The rain had stopped, and the sun was peeking out of the dark clouds overhead. The weather was not clear, but the sun rays boded well for their journey across the sea, if even only as a quick sign that they would be safe during the storm upon them.

A sheet of rain hit them. Sakura cried out playfully. She couldn’t help herself.

The Witch

She had ranted for at least a quarter of an hour after they had stopped fleeing from Ujiwara. Ladya had no idea he was that powerful, that adept with magic, and that skillful at evading magical attacks.

But how did he keep his magic aura from me? How did he disguise himself? It infuriated her. What’s more, she had been cheated!

“We have reaped nothing from this… this expedition!”

Kat said nothing. Even that irked the older witch right now, though she was no longer ranting as she paced back and forth inside this hovel they had entered. They needed shelter for the night.

Ladya wanted nothing more than to leave this accursed city and go somewhere else. Not only had they not been paid by Hukama, but she let two mages slip from her grasp.

No! They were pulled from it! Bayule damn that swordsman. Let him see his own entrails torn out of his body while he chokes on his blood.

The storm was in full force, the dark mist and the rain covering Yukai City from the west. In the harbor, she could see a single ship—just barely—setting out across the sea. It was probably Emperor Kurosawa. She hoped he survived, if only to make Hukama’s failure complete.

She wanted revenge, but she wouldn’t get it here.

“What should we do, mistress?” Kat asked from behind her.

“Wretches,” she snarled. “The lot of them.” She glanced about the hovel. She was disgusted. “What an utter failure!”

The Failed Mage

Sakura’s mother wept into her arms. “I thought I would never see you again,” Yukio sobbed. “Thank the gods you’re here—safe with the rest of us.”

Lawrence watched, smiling from a short distance away as she was reunited with her family. They all exchanged words and embraced one another. They were all there. Hitomo, Tomiichi and Yoko. Her friends were also there on the deck. There was Kaiya, loud and mouthy, but laughing as if she had something to drink. Beside her was Yumiko, quiet and unassuming, though also smiling happily.

“Thank Lawrence,” Sakura said, glancing toward him.

Hitomo came up to him, gave the failed mage a respectful nod and took him by the shoulders. “I would not want another man to be my son-in-law.”

“Thank you.”

“But you’re poor,” Tomiichi said, a friendly grin on his face. “And so are we. How can there be a proper wedding celebration?”

Lawrence raised an eyebrow. It wouldn’t be hard. A few jobs from the right people and he’d have a small fortune amassed in no time.

Though it seems my efforts to aid the royal family have resulted in a reward of very little, he thought. The only royal left was the daughter, exiled and penniless now. Nevertheless, Lawrence wanted to help her for some reason, despite feeling no ill will for those who enacted the coup.

There were so many refugees on board the ship. It was quite crowded, and Lawrence and the others were completely surrounded. Many of them were rich highborn nobles. There were some oni and cat eye as well. Many of them were foreigners, though the majority were local Mikumans.

“Once the dust has settled,” Hitomo said, “we can return to the city and take up residence in our manor once again.”

They weren’t rich, but the Nakamura family certainly was well off. Even Sakura made good coin as a performer in the Akaima Dancing Fans, though most of the troupe was either dead or missing now, so that was probably over.

“What of the gangs?” Lawrence asked.

“The guilds?” Hitomo asked in clarification. “Oh, they will probably be disbanded and forced to leave under the new rulership of Daimyō Sakuraichi.”

“Emperor Sakuraichi, you mean,” Tomiichi said, his disapproval not hidden in the least.

Hitomo seemed thoughtful. The failed mage was curious about the older man’s thoughts. “What is it?”

“Say what you like about the daimyō,” he said, “but perhaps this is what we need. If Emperor Kurosawa was truly so week, then perhaps this is for the best.”

“Father, be silent. You speak treason on a ship where the royal heir is present.”

The old man nodded. “Let time settle the matter. We will all see soon enough what washes ashore after this storm.”

“Do you know where we’re headed?” Tomiichi asked.

“To the shores of DarXulia,” a voice said. They turned to find the Commander of the Winged Blades standing there. She was out of armor, wearing a red tabard with the bright yellow emblem of her order, which was a blazing sun with fiery rays shining over the crest of a mountain hallowed in a royal crown. “The home of my order. I have no doubt the country will take in Her Royal Majesty and these refugees she brings.”

Lawrence nodded. “Thank you for waiting, Lady Arduani.”

She smirked. “I almost left you behind, mage.”

It was clear she hated the fact that he was a magic-user, but she seemed to have accepted him for whatever that was worth, though her attitude was still that of superiority over Lawrence. He didn’t care.

“We failed,” she said.

“No.”

“What do you mean?”

Lawrence glanced about. He found the princess on the bow of the ship and nodded toward her. “She’s safe.”

“And the rest of her family is dead.”

“We did what we could.” Lawrence glanced toward Yukai City in the distance, dark mists beginning to obscure the city proper, though the smoke could still be seen rising above the city. “We did what we could—and besides, we never were the royal protectors.”

“Perhaps. I only wish we could have done more.”

“We all do,” Lawrence said.

Sakura came up beside him, put her arm over his shoulder and took his wrist in her hand. He looked at her. She was beautiful. He wanted to marry her now on the ship. But he was penniless, so they would wait.

Arduani actually smiled at them, then said, “I’ll leave. I have many duties to attend to for when we reach port in three days.”

Lawrence nodded, and he turned to Sakura. He was surprised when she leaned into him, then stood on her toes to kiss him.

“Sakura!” her mother reproached.

She giggled.

Eventually the couple found themselves looking across the water toward Yukai City. Lawrence had an arm around her, and like before, she rested her head on his chest.

“What now?” she asked. “Mother is worried.”

“We start over,” Lawrence said. “Begin anew.”

“But we have nothing.”

“I’ll find work,” he said. “It’s not difficult. Almost any guild will have me.”

“I hate guilds. In Yukai City all they did was spread corruption and violence.”

“That was your emperor,” he said. “He was the one who allowed those conditions to present themselves over time.”

She seemed thoughtful. “Perhaps,” she said. “Is this going to be our first disagreement?”

“What?” Lawrence laughed. “No.”

He looked down at her and their eyes met. That little smirk was enough to make him love her on its own.

“Do you think we will ever return to Yukai City? It’s not your home.”

The failed mage had never really had a home. Despite his noble birth, he had left his country in search of fortune—and found it—only for it to be taken away.

“I don’t care where we end up, so long as it’s safe and you’re with me.”

She held him tighter at those words. He had never felt this way before. What he was feeling was in contradiction to his profession. As a mercenary, Lawrence had sought out places of corruption and conflict.

Now, all he wanted was for Sakura and her family to be safe—for their children to be safe. Do I even want children?

Something within him did.

Sakura put out her arm, and with her hand she seemed to caress the horizon where the sun had peaked out of the dark clouds again. Bright rays shone into the choppy water.

“Our new future greets us, Lawrence,” she said. “Let us follow our destiny together.”

Holding her close, he smiled.

The Winged Blade

“He was a good soldier—a good man,” Liandra said, dictating to Ana as she paced back and forth in the captain’s cabin. He had ceded her the space as soon as they came aboard—and rightly so. “Zandersan was a Knight of the highest degree. A man of honor and unflinching loyalty to the Order and to his mission. It pains me to write this letter, as the memory of his death is still fresh in my mind.”

“Do you really want to emphasize his death, Commander?”

Hands behind her back, she glanced at Ana behind the desk, quill in hand, ready to scrawl whatever she said on the paper before her.

“Agh!” Liandra threw her arms up. “I hate this.”

“It pains me as well.”

“It’s not that! I feel such a fool writing these blasted things. I don’t feel what I say.”

Ana, like Liandra, was wearing the red tabard of the Order of the Purging Flame, though the girl was not a warrior as she was, but Liandra’s personal scribe.

“What are you laughing at?” she snapped.

“Nothing,” Ana said, shaking her head emphatically. But she couldn’t keep the smirk off her face.

“See! You don’t care a whit for those two fools. Arrogant, pretentious, pandering…”—Argh!—“Ambitious bastards! And look where it got them.”

“They may have been all those things, Commander, but they deserve your respect.”

“Yes, yes,” Liandra said, waving a hand. “And they have it. But I don’t have to like it.”

“You never did show that sort of thing very well.”

She sighed. I’m no good at this. I hate it. “You write the letters.”

Ana raised an eyebrow. “Would you like me to give their last rites in the Evermore ceremony as well?”

“Shut up, Ana! Or I’ll have you out on deck scrubbing boards. I saw that!”

“No you didn’t.”

“You rolled your canted eyes at me, young lady!”

“What does the cant of my eyes have to do with it?”

“I don’t know!” “

“You’re right, Commander,” she added. “You’re much better fighting the agents of darkness than performing these kinds of tasks, Eternal Flame preserve you.”

“Gods, woman. I don’t feel like taking any lip from you right now.”

“I’m not giving you any lip.”

Liandra looked at the scribe sharply. The girl almost flinched.

Finally, she sighed, feeling she was probably being a little harsh, though she didn’t think so. “All right, all right—write this… Are you writing it?”

“I’m writing!”

Liandra cleared her throat and started to pace again.

The New Shōgun

Walking across the silken runner, Daimyō Sakuraichi Ujio approached the imperial throne of Mikuma. The palace was still in shambles, but the day had been won and Hukama was on the run.

He turned and sat the throne.

If feels… wrong, he thought. But… I have done what was necessary.

“I have achieved my aims,” he said aloud to his generals. Haku was here, standing loyally to his side. Muji was also present, his mask removed.

They all bowed.

“What of the other daimyōs surely on their way here?” Haku asked.

“They will submit to me—the shōgun of Mikuma.” He said the words regretfully. “Feckless cowards.”

“My lord,” Muji said. “Not ‘emperor’?”

Not offering any explanation, he said, “Not emperor.”

In the pause that followed, Haku asked, “Can you be certain the daimyōs will not oppose you?”

“This empire is weak. Has been week for decades. The daimyōs are witless, greedy fools. They will not oppose me. Those who do—we will destroy them.”

“Hai!” Muji said, clasping his fist to his palm as he bent to one knee. The other generals followed his lead. “For our new shōgun —for Mikuma and our future!”

Ujio stood from the throne. “We’re not finished. We still have fighting to do—restructuring of the government, and the dissolution of the guilds who have sought to take advantage of our people. The gaijin must be expelled from Mikuma. Their influences have run deep. But no more! Prepare for the arrival of the daimyōs. We meet them at the gates of Yukai City!”

Standing firm, his generals cried, “Hai!” Muji and the other generals turned and strode down the imperial throne chamber making for the exits.

Ujio never heard Haku approach his side. “My love—what of the heiress?”

He sighed. He wanted this to be over with. “She’s of no consequence.”

“Should I not take the ninja and deal with her? We had a chance to let the hurg and his accomplice remove her for us, and yet you told me to delay such action. Why?”

He said nothing for a time, though finally he spoke. “No. Leave her be.” Something inside of Ujio wanted the girl to return to Yukai City—to take her rightful place as the ruler they needed—to rule in the manner that was required of a sovereign. He had seen it in her. She had the spirit required of a ruler.

It is not my place to be Emperor of Mikuma…

The Artisan

The trees and the grass danced about in the wind as sheets of rain covered the hills. The Yukai City coast was a roil of black clouds and thunderous rumbles. The water was dark and choppy.

Had there been someone there on the beach, had that person looked up at the dunes, he would have seen a figure in a soiled kimono crest the hill in a slow, limping gait. The man nursed his side with one hand, a dark stain in his blue kimono where there was a large gash in the fabric, his other hand held forward for balance. He wore nothing on his bare, scuffed feet as he moved with what would be evident purpose.

The man peered across the waters, anger and disappointment clear upon his face. His lips moved, curses obviously on his breath. But after a time, for some inexplicable reason, the man’s features softened and slowly turned to a smile. And then he laughed. Not a laugh out of irony or scorn, but of happiness unbeknownst to anyone who might have been watching from a distance.