Chapter Seven—Plots and Executions

When Chunfang Wang arrived at the docks to process the incoming travelers that morning, he was surprised to see Liu Mo Fen, who had evidentially arrived earlier then he had. Something that had never happened since the two imperial officials had worked together—never in their history.

What’s more, Liu Mo Fen came to execute his duties today despite a face evidenced of some hardship. “Liu Mo Fen!” Chunfang exclaimed, his eyes going wide. “What happened to your face?”

“Eh?” Liu Mo had asked, pretending to take little notice of his appearance. But there was nothing the slightly taller official could do to hide the black circle under his left eye, other than to apply powder—which had not done adequately to obscure the new feature, much less his missing tooth.

“Your face!” Chenfang said, pointing a soft finger at the other official. These men both spoke with high octave voices, a normal thing among the officials. Often referred to as imperial officials, officials, or what they were by unchosen design of their own volition, which was to say that they were, and were often called, eunuchs—men without their manly morning stars. They would never have deeper voices, would never fight in battles—they would never sire children or know a woman in intimate ways.

And most importantly of all, they would never look after an emperor’s concubines with eyes filled with any kind of desire.

Though despite these expectations that the eunuchs would never fight in battles, they did serve as bodyguards and watchers of the imperial harem, though often in a more managerial capacity, allowing the soldiers who did in fact have their morning stars, to carry the swords and pikes.

In any event, despite his… “weathered” face, Liu Mo Fen had come to work on this day, a mystery unto itself, at least to Chunfang. Liu Mo did what he did every day. He watched the desk clerk from over her shoulder as she listened to each and every story told to her by the long line of passengers that disembarked from the endless ships coming to the Twin Cities, the most magnificent port city in the known world.

That last thought put a smile on Liu Mo’s face, until he remember the previous night as his eye twitched painfully. His jowls quivered and his face became a bitter frown. Liu Mo did not miss his balls, but what irked him on this morning, was his inability to have any pride left—at least for this day. He did not reach up to touch his eye, and he strived monumentally to keep his mouth a narrow crack when speaking so as not to reveal his missing tooth. He would have to go to a specialist later, damn that vagrant with the staff!

The traveller at the window spoke her story. Ugh! Their stories were often boring and obtuse. The poor, the downtrodden, the destitute—always coming to better their pathetic little lives. But as a richly appareled noble woman spoke from the lone over, he smiled broadly—though he kept his mouth shut--and nodded with a sympathetic ear as she spoke revealing her excitements for the city, but also some grievances in her recent days. The poor, poor woman. Liu Mo Fen wanted to help her—would approve her ticket had she been in his line, though he was certain Chunfang would do just that as he listened to her story. She was then quickly admitted after paying an exorbitant entry tax, one that the officials could easily skim from.

Liu Mo Fen nodded to himself with satisfaction.

No one would notice—and yet it was a well known fact that this “skimming” was often the norm, however, these were the benefits of their positions within the empire were not frowned upon. Oh, no. While the imperial coffers paid for all their needs, many eunuchs still afforded positions and lifestyles that far exceeded their monthly indemnities through such actions of advantage that their stations did allow.

It was normal.

The woman in his line was charged a specific tax based on the discretion of Liu Mo Fen, who had barely heard a word she said. He nodded to the clerk who simply charged the double rate, which the traveller was barely able to afford. In fact, she was slightly short on coin, and in these specific circumstances, a ticket of debt was issued—just like now. The woman would have one week to pay back the debt, otherwise her stay would be revoked, and she would be later removed from the city if she were ever to be discovered by the city watch.

Most of these types ended up in the slums and were rarely discovered, though. Some of them later crawled out, made their fortunes and became successful individuals. These individuals were allowed to pay exorbitant fines for breaking the rules, but in many circumstances they could, and did remain within the Twin Cities after getting caught and fined. Those successful individuals who could not pay—well, sometimes agreements were made and tickets of debt issued—and in other circumstances, they were imprisoned and later removed from the city, their possessions and bank accounts relinquished to the imperial authorities—often after the eunuchs had their share, and were gone forever.

Liu Mo Fen watched as the desk clerk, Hua Ming this morning, a skinny woman with a pin in her hair, stamped the traveller’s newly acquired papers after receiving Liu Mo Fen’s nod of approval, of course. With each and every traveller, the desk clerk turned in the end, waiting for Liu Mo Fen’s nod of approval, or his headshake. And it was the same with all of the officials.

If anyone had a problem, the guards dealt with it swiftly and with permanent exactitude. The next man in line appeared. He was clearly from this part of the world, poor, his cloak threadbare and his long hair frazzled. In his right hand was a staff that looked like it belonged to a pike at one time. The Mikuman—for clearly that was what he was—had two dark circles under his eyes, but had kept all his teeth in their fight last night.

A fright took Liu Mo Fen. It was him—the Mikuman foreigner! Liu Mo Fen glanced to his personal guards, both of which carried similar “hardships” upon their faces, though Chang Xio has a scratch across his bottom lip that ran all the way down to his chin.

He swallowed, just as Chungfang Wang caught sight of his face and frowned, his eyes flicking to the next traveller in line. That traveller, the self-same man who had demanded he be allowed into the city on the morrow, was now grinning like a madman who had won a lottery of debt forgiveness—damn that brutish fox!

Oh, oh! That was not correct, by Imperial Decree, all fox and or fushi slanders were unallowed, as well as any other kind of slur or racial rebuke. Liu Mo Fen corrected his thoughts and found new ways to slander this cretin at the offices.

Swallowing stiffly, Liu Mo Fen remembered his demands, said that he would find his way back to Liu Mo and make him pay if tomorrow he did not rectify his earlier mistake that day. At first, Liu Mo laughed in his face, but after his guards were tossed around like potato sacks and a fist or fifty came at his face, he readily sought a new path for this traveller in particular.

Hua Ming listened to his story, nodding all the time. It was long, but was similar to the typical pathetic little sob story, except this one was slightly more interesting, since this poor fool had lost favor with his lord in the Mikuma Empire and was forced to come here.

Liu Mo Fen sneezed, sneaking the moment to snigger behind his hand, but the narrowing of eyes from that fox—from that cretin, and the remembrances of his threats the night before when Liu Mo Fen had intended to go home—came to the forefront of his thoughts, and he sobered completely.

Turning, Hua Ming silently asked instruction when the warrior dropped down three coins that clanked over the desk, one of them rolling half way to the other side. The sum was far shorter than Liu Mo Fen had demanded the day before. But now, the sum would be enough. In truth, it was short, and a ticket of indebtment could be issued, but Liu Mo Fen used his imperial discretion to wave the ticket completely.

He nodded to Hua Ming. She then turned and slammed her stamp onto the traveller’s newly-minted papers. Then their eyes met, and in the old man’s eyes—in fact, he was not so old and seemed to be somewhat near Liu Mo Fen’s own age—there was victory there as he smiled like a—er—like a villain.

Liu Mo Fen growled under his breath as he held his shoulders high and his wrists behind his waist. Chunfang Wang glanced at him awkwardly. The imperial official with the black eye and the missing tooth could do nothing but look away, wait for the next traveller in line, whereupon he would give his nod or shake of the head to Hua Ming.

Now that Ujiro had obtained his papers, he would be allowed into the city. He wanted to scream in triumph, shake his fist in the air and howl as if he were mad-drunk with sake as yōkai danced around his head. But he did not, instead choosing only to smile and wink at the pompous little soft-skinned official.

The junk where the travelers would embark for the gates wasn’t far off, and Ujiro stalked in that direction, his staff knocking on the docks with every step. It was early morning and the sun had barely come up, but the weather was far warmer than the day before. Despite the promise of a sunny and warm day, more storm clouds roiled in the distance, and Ujiro wondered if the Twin Cities often brooded just like the storms that seemed so frequent.

He stepped across the gangplanks and onto the deck of the ship, where other foreigners, many of them demi humans with bushy tails or fury ears, milled about, glancing curiously. One—an oni with high horns—gave Ujiro a look that was none too friendly, but he only stared right back at the insolent man and the challenge—Ha! How pathetic!—was retracted.

The warrior took in a deep breath and grasped the balustrade, watching as fishermen, and what looked to be war junks, moved about the harbor. Junks. What a funny name. That was what he had heard others calling them as they pointed, admiring the Twin Cities and its world-renowned wall from the docks.

“Now we will see,” Ujiro said with a grin, “who gets into the city first.” Those young fools would never beat him. He was far more experienced than they, and it was only expected that he would defeat Hiro-san in their challenge. The rōnin’s free cups awaited. “Let the day begin!” he called to no one but the open horizon.

*

Golden light streamed into the room through the diamond-shaped windows. Despite the upturned roofs on the establishment, the inn, called the Dancing Fish, was a foreign owned, but not foreign operated inn. In the room of polished and lacquered woods, was a suede sofa facing the hearth. In the hearth were grey ashes, from them wisps of smoke rose into the chimney. The room was warm, particularly because of the sunlight. Upon the sofa a golden-haired girl lay sprawled and snoring with her mouth open, her high quality leather boots still covering her feet.

Upon the floor lay a ragged-looking man who lay on his stomach atop a quilt. His sandals lay on the floor, one of them upturned as if he had simply kicked them off his feet where he wore dirtied socks of a strange variety called tabi. Also adorning the homeless-looking man was a soiled kimono and in his hand rested the overtly thick scabbard of a sheathed sword—a long sword that arced like a crescent moon. Covering his back were the wavy strands of black hair.

Had it not been for the sword, the man could have easily been mistaken for a barbarian vagrant from the steppes. But as it was, that sword in his grasp was worth just little more than the establishment they occupied called the Dancing Fish.

In the bed on the other side of the room lay another man, with his arm resting atop his forehead as he slept. He was far younger than the man on the floor, but older than the girl. He was attractive, his skin clear and his hair smooth. His sword, a weapon less valuable than the first man’s, still carried a considerable price tag.

The three had come together last night for drinks and food to discuss a proposition, a word neither of the two warriors understood, though one of them thought he had. Very little of importance had been spoken of between the three occupants the night before, though quantities of drink had been imbibed. Or was it that matters of import had in fact been exchanged, and none of the room’s occupants remembered?

In any event, the disgraced samurai called Hiro Yousha stirred as he blinked awake. He turned over onto his back just as a throb of pain made itself known inside his head. He groaned and sat up as the light splashed across his face.

Wincing from the bright morning sun, he shielded his eyes and glanced about. Yōkaii-chan—though that was not her real name, a fact discovered by Hiro when first entering the Dancing Fish, though in truth any fool should know that such a name could never belong to a troublesome little whiteskin such as the girl laying on the sofa—lay sprawled on the sofa near him like a little smiling demon, content with her reveling the night before.

How could a child drink that much? the rōnin wondered. That was not normal. He glanced over to his friend, the other rōnin. His katana lay across his stomach as he slept peacefully. “Mmm,” Hiro groaned, and got up. He went into the washroom and did his morning routine.

When he came out, Haru­-kun stole the use of the chamber as Yōkaii-chan glanced about sleepily before stretching like a cat. “It’s time to wake up, Fuwafuwa,” she said through a yawn.

The little fur ball with horns stirred, his squeaky tone muttering something sleepily. The girl looked up at Hiro and said nothing. She was far too drowsy, and , Hiro suspected, headachy, but he was certain something between the girl and the two warriors had been exchanged. Yes, that mysterious “proposition.” She wanted something. Wanted them to do something.

He scratched his temple and with a shrug he stepped over to the window and glanced about the village of Jiao Luo to see active villagers going about their daily tasks. Not far from the inn, a woman stirred a hot pot of water that boiled over a fire, her pile of laundry ready to be dunked and washed. A man carried a small linen wrapped parcel as he strode along the street, looking well dressed in white trousers, black shoes and a yellow vest of semi- lacquered leather. There were fishermen tending to their catch on the water and children played in the street. On the other side a street a crier sold breakfast foods from his wheeled cart, and somewhere else, hammering could be heard in the far distance that, only if one were to strain for its sounds, would hear. Perhaps those were the sounds of a carpenter or a building being repaired. Perhaps something had broken during the wind last night.

Hiro nodded to himself. Then he said, “So, when do we head out?” Having no memory of what they were to do, he was subtly fishing for information without revealing that he had completely forgotten. But since Yōkaii-chan was only a kid, perhaps he did not have to be so careful.

The door to the room creaked open and he turned to see the girl heading downstairs. That worried him. Was she leaving them behind? Had she decided they were a waste of her time, and her coin?

The coin. They needed to get through that gate!

He stepped lightly on his feet to the door and opened it. By the time he peeked through, he saw her leaving the landing and heading down to the first floor level. He growled to himself in a musing fashion, then called, “Haru-kun. Hurry.”

The other man called back, a tone of mild frustration in the muffled voice. Hiro could not understand a word he said through the door. He glanced about, feeling impatient. Then he decided to go after the girl. He stepped back into the room and bent, moaning slightly due to his headache, and grasped his sword. He slung it around his back and went downstairs. He looked around and saw no sign of Yōkaii-chan or her little pet.

Putting his hands on his hips, Hiro continued to glance about, but found no sign of her. Even if she had gone, at least she had bought them the drinks and the room. That was something. He wondered what it would have been like to sleep on the street that night, or if he and Haru would have been successful in finding some ramshackle camp where the village drunkards and other undesirables coalesced.

Perhaps they would have eaten fish around a fire, but he did not know that for a certainly.

“Hey,” a voice said.

It was the girl. He turned and smiled. “There you are.”

She seemed more awake now, her faced washed at least. “Let’s get something to eat, old man. I’m starving.”

He sighed. Was this how Ujiro-san felt when he called the other rōnin “old man”? He considered for a moment that perhaps he should stop doing that. But then the thought evaporated at they sat down at the bar. There was a girl behind it this time, though her chest was decidedly flat and cutting board like, though she did have a pretty face. She was probably not much older than Haru­-kun. She took the girl’s coin and served them pouridge of rice boiled in milk and sweetened with an extraordinarily sweet substance that resembled sticky sand to the touch. It was tasty and it gave Hiro energy.

Haru-kun soon joined them and ate as well. Finally Yōkaii-chan turned to them both. “Listen, you smelly sots. I know neither of you remember a thing from last night, so don’t pretend. Let’s go over this again real fast. I need you to come with me to the Lanchiu Estate. Their daughter went missing a few weeks ago, and I want you to make a show of looking at her room.”

“And you think we can help?” Haru-kun asked.

“As I said,” Yōkaii-chan said, “I just want you to make a show of doing it. You don’t actually have to find anything. Understand?”

“Mm,” Haru noised with a nod, though he did not like the sound of this at all. In fact, this sounded a lot like a farce—a con.

The older man felt a tinge of annoyance as he glanced at the younger warrior. Haru-kun was not adapting to their new life as well as Hiro would have liked. Why these Lanchiu people even needed outside help instead of dealing with the city watch inspectors was beyond him—and with that, he remembered what they were on about. He smiled to himself.

Not bad, he thought.

“What are you smiling about old man?” Yōkaii-chan asked as she crossed her arms in her seat.

“I, am smiling because… it will be so easy!”

“Yeah right,” she said. “We will see! Listen, I know you can’t figure anything out. I just need you there to make me look good, all right?”

“Eh?” he asked, his expectations shredded in an instant.

“That’s right,” her pet squeaked from some unseen place, though its voice seemed to come from her shoulder. “You don’t have to do anything but make an appearance.”

“Ah,” Hiro said diplomatically. “But maybe you will be surprised, yes?”

“Fuwafuwa’s right,” she said. “Which reminds me, you two need to take some baths before we get you something better to wear. You look like rotting driftwood. If it weren’t for your fancy swords, I’d have probably left you to your own devices.”

Haru swallowed, his embarrassment evident.

“Arigatou,” Hiro said, smiling and trying to keep from laughing as he proffered a small bow by tucking his chin in. Her rudeness was annoying before, but now—now that she had showered them with coin, he could not care less about her disrespectful attitude. And besides, he thought, it was a good way to practice humility. They were no longer samurai. They could not afford to become offended at every turn, fighting duels here and there.

And then Ujiro came bidden to his mind and a mild tinge of worry assailed him. Ujiro, though easy-going like Hiro, was more likely to be drawn into fighting duels. Was he fighting some street rat this hour right now? He waved it away. “All right,” Hiro said. “We, will bring our fancy swords along, to make you look good.”

The girl nodded. “Good.”

“But,” Hiro said, continuing, “not before we know who we are dealing with, all right, Adrienne?”

With wide eyes, the girl was clearly taken aback. “Dammit,” she cursed. “I knew I should have taken you two somewhere else. You’re obviously not the drunken homeless sots some might take you for.”

Hiro laughed.

“Yes,” Haru said with a nod. “We have fallen on hard times—that is all.”

“Understandable,” Fuwafuwa said, appearing on Adrienne’s shoulder. His eyes smiled at them. “We can help each other.”

“Now,” Hiro said. “Your real name, girl.”

“Ugh,” Adrienne said. “Fine. Well, since you know my name already, I’ll just tell you that I’m of the Vaillancourt family. Adrienne de Vaillancourt.”

“Oh!” Hiro said, as if he knew the name, but of course, he did not. “It sounds like nobility. Where are you from?”

“Does that even matter? I was born here, okay? But my family is from Macheselle.”

The warriors nodded, though neither of them really had a strong idea of where that was, they only knew it to be one of the kingdoms from across the sea where the whiteskin folk came from.

But now Hiro knew her name fully, he smiled and put out his hand. “It is nice to meet you, Adrienne de Vaillancourt.”

She took his hand and they shook.

“Now!” Hiro said quickly as he pulled her hand toward him, “we are… partners in crime.”

Her eyes widened, but then the bratty little smirk came over her features again. “Nice,” she said with a nod. Now you wanderers get cleaned up. Then I’ll take you into the city so we can get you something better to wear. After that, we go to the Lanchiu’s. Make sure you act the part. They don’t mess around. They’ve got money—a lot of it. But they’re stupid, so we pull this off easy.”

The two rōnin looked at each other. They nodded. Baths were ordered for their room. When Adrienne got up to leave the inn, she turned suddenly, her body silhouetted by the morning sunlight streaming through the windows in the bright common room, which right now, was mostly deserted. “By the way, old man,” she said cockily as she rested her palm atop the hilt at her belt. “I’m not bad in a scrap myself. A nice sword and some magic abilities take’s one a long way in the game of cons.” She winked and pointed a finger at them. Her smile and bearing was… for a girl of her age, quite the rogue like appearance. Thehe shape of her shadow alone could have been mistaken for an adventurer or sword master had she not obviously been so young.

Both of the warriors glanced at Adrienne, completely taken aback. They looked at each other and could not help but laugh. Then in unison they exclaimed, “Hai!”