I—Atsumatto of Momori Jinja Haisu

“Why are you here?”

The man was either from Lucia or Florencia, Atsumatto couldn’t say. He looked on at the hooded figure, his glinting eyes hidden, his grin one of manic lust for… for what?

He is not well, Atsumatto thought from atop the dais.

The room was dark, smoke from the braziers wafted through the space, giving the whole atmosphere one of hazy uncertainty.

Normally Atsumatto might send such a man on his way, but something about him bespoke of nobility. He was a traitor.

Not a spy.

“You know why I’m here,” he breathed. “You’ve wanted it. That sweet taste. The glory of victory can be yours. You have but to reach… and take it!”

Atsumatto was surrounded by his aides and hidden in the darkness were his most elite ninja, protecting him—guarding him from this madman.

“Why are you here?” he asked again.

The crazy man, in what were once fine clothes, now ripped and tattered, lifted his chin. It made those glinting eyes of his hidden even deeper within his cowl.

“Hate… them all.” His lips pulled back in a snarl. “Everything about them. I’ve suffered enough. I’ve gone mad.” He laughed maniacally. “Can’t you see?”

This interaction was distasteful. Atsumatto felt an air of greasy villainy in this room—and he was a part of it—would be a part of it, if he continued this conversation any further.

And yet…

I must be greedy.

“Explain yourself,” he said. “Now. Or I will have my guards throw you out!”

“Ah,” the man noised, his smile coming back. He swayed slightly and then leaned into a sudden sidestep.

Was he drunk? There was no way the guards would let a drunk man seeking an audience through the entrance.

No, the crazy man was not drunk. He was mad.

“It has already begun.” He laughed, the sound of it horrifying and insane.

“Remove him!” Atsumatto commanded.

His samurai moved forward, their yari spears in hand to do as he bid.

“Wait,” the crazy man said slowly as he raised a hand.

But the samurai did not halt. The two of his soldiers grabbed the man by the arms, his sudden, crazy demeanor changing instantly to one of sharp, hawkish acuity.

Atsumatto felt the air of danger radiate off of him.

“Stop,” he commanded, raising his hand just slightly. He didn’t know why, but in that instant, he felt… afraid. “Say your peace, and then be gone.”

“Nnngh,” the madman noised. “They are meeting—have already met. One group. In the House of Gates. I can provide you with a way iiinnnnn.”

“They are meeting?”

“Yes,” he said impatiently. “All of them. The nobility. The royalty.” He laughed that maniacal laugh again. “You can capture them—all at once. Do whatever you want. Hold them hostage? Yeeeessss. Kill them?” That laugh. “If you want.”

Atsumatto sat up in his chair, his interest piqued.

“Tell me more,” he said.

The madman reached into his tattered brown cloak and pulled out a glowing orb. The blue magic rippled off in smoky waves, the center black as night with the eye a pure white as the magic pulsed and radiated.

“A Portal Stone…” Atsumatto said in astonishment. It was an extremely rare magical device that one could use to transport himself from one location to another.

Instantly!

But he waved it off. “Useless without another—and so rare you have no other!”

Then the madman reached into his cloak, pulling out a second Portal Stone.

Atsumatto’s eyes widened. “H—how?”

The madman’s mouth bent up in a rictus of pure mania as he giggled into a wet cackle. “Oh… I don’t know. Now are you ready to listen?”

Suddenly Hono jumped between Atsumatto and the stranger. “My lord shōgun!” He bent down on one knee, his fist clasped to his open palm. “Do not trust this snake!”

“Silence!”

Hono fell onto his face in deference.

“I will hear everything!—he has to say.”