Standing Camp of the Watch

Storming up to his tent, Preafects in tow, Tsea-gong maintained what dignity he could by controlling his temper. Dripping wet and shaking angry, a violent outburst now at the Grand Master would benefit none and there was peach wine waiting for him in the tent. He just had to get there.

Angry with a dead Kaiju, angry with his Diaymo’s who treated war as a game, and furious with himself. He had nearly died and still had no idea what that technique had been.

The indignation was insufferable.

“Praise be to the victorious Shogun.” The young scribe spoke in chorus with the rest of the Captains, all waiting on the Shoguns return for their reports.

So it’s true, thought the young man upon seeing the Shogun’s visage.

Tsea-gong paused midstride, wasting a scowl on a young man who would never see it as he remained bowed. A respite from the painfully bright sheen that glistened upon him, like a polished blade catching the sun along its edge. Small whisps of the strange sheen broke off him in random bursts of arching tendrils, each crackling of lightning.

The Shogun hummed with power.

“Who are you and where is my Arch-Tenant?”

The long bearded old man who had been fervently scraping glops of the Kaiju bile off him into a vial, dared tut at the tone used by the most powerful Sacred Artist amongst the Watch.

“A thousand apologies Shogun. I am a lowly scribe in service to the Arch-Tenant. He sends his deepest apologies for not greeting you in person upon your triumphant return, but the fates would not wait and have forced him into the immediate undertaking of an earlier conversation shared between the two of you this day.”

The Shogun arced an eyebrow.

“That’s quite the mouthful junior, are you sure you got it all out right?”

The young man began to shake, terrified of the consequences of getting even single word wrong. He was certain he had got it perfectly right, his Master had said the Salamander would understand. But before he could respond, the Shogun finally snapped at the old man who buzzed at him like a garnet fly.

“Get off of me, vulture.” He growled at the old man’s graceless efforts.

“Apologies Shogun,” the scribe bowed lower. “I don’t understand the message myself, but I can inform you that he is currently hosting a Palace guest who came enquiring of you earlier.”

The Salamander sighed loudly in relief. “Heavens shine upon that man. Which royal visitor...?

The Shogun paused mid-sentence, staring at the old man still scrapping away at his Legendary armour.

“Grand Master Hatsu, did you not hear me?”

The dangerous warning in his tone seemed to have little effect on the churl.

“My sympathies Shogun, but if this is what I believe it to be. Then I absolutely must get every last drop of it. It could…”

“There’s a whole pool of it out there, Hatsu!”

“I’m aware and I’ve already sent my assistant to harvest as much of it as she can. Now please, you’re dripping it everywhere.”

“She?” The Shogun replied incredulously. “Your assistant, as in, a student assistant? That’s still an active war zone, Hatsu! The Monks aren’t even out yet. Which reminds me…”

The Shogun paused as Cai landed ungraciously in an open area of the camp.

“Tenant, why aren’t the Monks out yet?”

“She’ll be fine Shogun, your concern is noted.”

“Don’t try me, Grand Master. I don’t imagine Won-Shik’s Alchemical branch of the High Sect partake in much spear practice. If she dies, it’ll be on your head.”

“Hmmm, you may have a point.” Grandmaster Hatsu replied, showing no sign of relenting in his duties. “But I will point out that child is already on her first Dan. Regardless, I met your man leaving your tent earlier and convinced him to take the girl to the site and watch over her.”

“You dare command my…” The Shogun gave up trying, especially out here in front of his bewildered Captains.

“Oh yes,” the old man exclaimed excitedly. “He dropped off one of the most fascinating of objects in your tent, and I absolutely must have it for my studies…”

Brushing past the obnoxious Grand Master he stepped into his war tent for a moment’s respite from the old man. His Tent guards being Rank 4 Dan were unfortunately not enough to stop the old man.

“With me.” He bellowed. “Aargh! Not you. Tenant! Get in here.”

The scribe gave himself a moment, questioning if he really should follow after the Shogun. There was a whole line of Captain's more worthy waiting and though he had been first, such things mattered for nought in the Cultivator's life.

Besides, the man seemed ready to commit murder and that odd Grand Master of the revered High Sect was not helping. Giver have mercy, the fool actually seemed intent on suicide. Besides he wasn’t a Tenant yet, he really was just a lowly Scribe and had no reason for being around all these powerful and dangerous people. Why had his Master sent him?

A gentle breath of hot air on the back of his neck nearly had him leap out of his skin, as he turned back to see the terrifying long toothed mask of a Preafect standing inches away. He all but fell into the tent, his decision made.

The Salamander glanced up, quickly secreting a vintage bottle back into his desk drawer after taking a swig of it. Moments later Cai came sauntering in, frowning at Grand Master Hatsu’s ungraceful behaviour. The Salamander seemed to ignore him entirely as he went about setting a simple yet elegant tray of cups whilst his Preafects brought out a single chair and Saki table.

With a glance at Cai, he shook his head. Indicating for the man to wait whilst his Preafects walked about the large tent activating small Beast cores with simple runes carved into them.

Tray complete, Tsea-gong pulled out a strong bottle of Soju from a large chest in the corner and waited for his Preafects to finish. With the wards finally set in place, he began filling each of the small bowls.

“You were saying?” The Shogun proffered the first tjan cup to the Scribe.

Caught off guard, the young man’s eyes widened at the incredible honour. No wonder the Captains had stared death at him. A slight creak of armour at his back spurred him on from his spluttering hesitancy as he quickly reached for the cup with a gracious bow.

“The royal visitor, uhm yes. First Councillor Hiro Takashi, Steward of the Divine Throne, Defender of the Sky Palace, Master of Archives and First Elder to the Divine Emperor and...”

He had a few more to go through, but seeing the dangerous look the Shogun levelled at him, he stopped right there.

With enough tjan cups filled, a nod from the Shogun sent Cai and his Preafects each reaching for one, downing it in one go to a round of sharp delights.

“Ack!”

So strong!

The Scribe gasped for air as it went down. Not truly harsh or even bitter, it was still leagues away from what he could handle and his face bloomed a bright red as the warmth of it spread instantly throughout his body. A humorous snort from the old man, the only one who hadn’t picked up a cup, sent his face into further crimson blooms.

“So, the Palace dog is already sniffing around my tent. What could that Pyeanchi possibly want?” The Shogun scoffed sarcastically, as he handed over the bloody Core to be cleaned.

Larger than his fist and with three smoky stripes to it, he felt the power within. Frighteningly so, it was a struggle just to part with it. Some dark urge within him, demanding he take the prize for himself.

The Shogun scowled suddenly, noticing a huge purple and green scaled egg, resting on the headstand atop his official desk.

“What is that!?”

“Ah! Yes,” exclaimed Hatsu excitedly, looking up from his efforts for the first time. The young scribe noted the startling absence of any sort of beard on the old Grand Master.

“I took the liberty of swapping it out with the original duller object, so that I might better study it. This specimen is actually much larger than the normal recorded size, which is exciting, but I’m also concerned about that crack along the edge. See? Thankfully due to the miraculous shifting properties of the scales on the egg…

The Salamander sighed deeply, waving a Preafect over to swap it with whatever was the original item as he mentally drowned out the protests of the wretched old man.

Won-Shik had actually taken the time to visit and warn him of the Grand Masters peculiar ways, but this was getting too much.

“I will thank the Grand Master to stay out of my Tent and leave my things alone.”

Completely ignoring the old man’s curt response, he waved his Preafect to continue bagging the egg. This new partnership was too vital and not worth losing his temper over, but there were limits his indignities would suffer. As testified by the correct object being replaced upon his desk.

Tsea-gong allowed himself a small sense of vindication as he downed the next drink alone. Basking in the glorious sight of a purple bruised severed head, its eyes rolled up. Amazingly it still had the blue ribbon head band attached tied to its brow, signature of all the Palace Guard.

Honour reclaimed, he glanced about the tent measuring each of the men’s responses. There were some raised eyebrows but otherwise all seemed just fine, Hatsu appeared indifferent but the young Tenant was clearly horrified. The last two he waited upon finally entered, Bo and his Elder Captain of the Flaming sword. They too noted the head but said nothing, odd for Bo but both seemed morose.

Only the junior then, thought Tsea-gong.

“As you can see Tenant, I have only just left the battlefield. Infact, half of my Preafects and Captains are still out there. How is it that the old dog couldn’t wait for me?”

The young man nearly faltered, his tongue gripped by fear.

Perhaps the Stewards raving had some merit to it after all.

Thousands of dead outside, that he had been tallying himself, was nothing compared to that head displayed on the Shoguns table. He could feel it watching him too.

“He…uh… he seemed quite upset, Shogun. Shouting slander about you and your Preafects. The Arch-Tenant came over quickly and took it upon himself to try and calm the man down, promising discussions of payment. Whatever he said seemed to appease the Councillor and he went obligingly, after the Arch-Tenant informed me to wait here to give you his message personally.”

“And what slander was he accusing me of?” The Shogun asked, fighting against the smile that tugged at the corners of his lips.

The Scribes eyes flickered to the head before returning to the Shogun. It would be a one-way ticket to the Third hell for him if he even dared repeat half the Stewards choice words.

“He seemed of the opinion a Preafect had committed murder and robbery.”

The Salamander hid his smirk behind another swift downing of Soju.

“That it was witnessed within the City walls by multiple citizens.”

The Salamander choked on the strong drink.

Focusing intently on the end of his shoes, he could tell this last bit caused some concern as even the Preafects shuffled about. He dared not raise his head now.

“How many men has he brought with him?”

“Ten my lord.”

The Salamander frowned. “Is that all?”

“They’re all Sacred Artists Shogun. I estimate between rank 3 and 4 Don’s. He said he would be back later with a larger detail to collect the rest of the Palace’s Beast cores. For now, he personally come for the Kaiju core.”

The Salamander tapped his finger on the table thoughtfully, pouring another Soju when suddenly one of his Preafects turned to face him at attention as he were being addressed.

Hansu, have those men closely followed while they are in my camp. I want double their number watching each them, and a record of any they interact with. Take our strongest, but be discreet, they could be very dangerous.

The Preafect bowed and left in haste.

The Shogun smiled like the victorious predator as he turned to the young Scribe. The effect made doubly so unnerving as the young man had never known the stoic Shogun to display emotion. And when he held out his hand for the empty tjan cup to be returned the Scribes hands were shaking.

“I know now why the Arch-Tenant chose you.” He said smoothly as he refilled the cup one last time.

Handing the refill back he seized the Scribe with a penetrating stare. “Your mind is open to me and I can tell you’re holding something back from me. What is it, Scribe?”

The cup trembled in his hands and he whimpered as he spilt some like a common dog. Looking around he would get no sympathy here. There was just no telling how these Seniors would react to the words of one less than a junior.

“Go on,” growled Tsea-gong.

“The Steward of the divine Throne implied the honourable Shogunate could no longer be trusted with Rank 10 Beast cores as evidence of your unnatural Bloodline.”

The silence was deafening for but a moment as every member of the tent stared open mouthed at the whimpering fool. Unfortunately, the junior Tenant mistook this silence.

“Perhaps if we just removed the headband, then…”

With an inarticulate scream of outrage, the Elder Captain of the flaming sword swung for his neck in a single fluid motion.

The Scribe screeched, not from the sword, far too slow to avoid that. But from hitting the floor and being crushed prostrate, as the Shoguns Cultivation flattened him before the sword could take his head. Still, that had been close.

He had felt the flame and his hair was thoroughly singed.

“Sheath your blade Captain and be at peace.” The Shogun calmly spoke to the furious Captain. “I’m sure the junior Tenant will get his phrasing right next time.”

The Shogun sighed heavily as if dispensing a great weight. “Unnatural, you say?”

The cold look of indifference the Shogun levelled upon him chilled him to the spot, but it was the Preafect who raised him back up which froze him solid.

“Speak only when you are given leave to, junior. I won’t miss.” The masked Cultivator hissed threateningly.

“I extend my Will to spare your life only because I sensed in you an effort to speak truthfully… if not a touch inarticulately. Answer me now plainly. Would you or any of yours know whose head this was without the headband?”

“No, Shogun.” The young Scribe whimpered

“Then Honour demands it remains,” he finished.

With a nod he dismissed the man. Young and easily influenced and he very much doubted the Arch-Tenant had a single untrustworthy servant in his employ. Besides, he wanted them to know, and whispers could always be denied if they got out of hand.

The only problem was they spread faster than announcements and he had to move with caution here.

“So, Takashi is already here for the Palace’s Tax on Beast cores. Grand Master Hatsu, you and your disciple should take your leave now. If he becomes aware of the High Sect dealing with the Watch, there will be problems of the investigative kind. Neither of us wants such a disruption to our respective supplies.”

“Which reminds me, your last delivery was weeks ago. We need more and we need it yesterday. Is all well with the High Sect and your Master?”

“Yes, yes. Don’t worry yourself. When we heard the Reapers Alarm we came at once, bringing everything we could at such short notice.”

Tsea-gong and his Diaymo’s winced at the Grand Masters words. “Grand Master, whilst you are in my Tent you will mind your tongue. I have had dealings with the Tower Lords before, and I can assure you, they are far less patient than I with such terminologies.”

“Bah! You’re as bad as Won-Shik. Anyway, we brought a bunch with us, but for obvious reasons we had to be careful about it. Palace and House spies now sit openly opposite our gates, It’s getting harder and harder to find half decent smugglers. That being said I believe you will be quite impressed with this batch, if I do say so myself.”

“Thankyou, This is well, Grand Master. My medics are strained as it is and this wave was nothing like we’ve seen before. I need those healing potions and more besides.”

“Captain Ji-yeng, if you’re here then I take it the fight is already over. Perhaps you can help with the numbers whilst I wait on the Arch-Tenant. Please, revitalise yourself on some choice cuts, harvested by my own hand.”

The Elder Captain spared a last look at the head on the desk, before raising it in the Grand Masters direction. The Salamander waved it off nonchalantly.

“Fear not Captain, I have spoken to Won-Shik himself. The High Sect and the Watch are of similar mindset when it pertains to matters of the Palace.”

“In some things, but never all.” Added Hatsu with a cautionary tone.

The proud Noble merely nodded in acceptance, looking rather haggard as he gratefully received a pair of chopsticks from a Preafect.

“The fight is over,” he said savouring the potency of the thinly sliced cuts laden over a steaming bowl of rice, “but the madness still lingers, Seo-sang.”

Throwing back a swift cup of Soju he immediately began with the details on both walls. That the Breach was under control and a contingent left in place, as the fighting persisted in sporadic clusters where the Beasts were too crazed to stop and had to be put down. Troop movements and formations to clear the area of the wretched Acid toads and the pools they had passed through, contaminating with their spawn. Each would have to be purified.

“It should take us another hour to wipe out all significant resistance.”

“Unacceptable. We need to be out there now, harvesting. We only have four hours of daylight left.

“ I agree fully, my lord Salamander. This would be easier with the Arch-Tenants help, but I have already initiated preliminary retrievals as soon as the Wave broke. I have ten teams out in the field, each with that same number again. They have been tasked with collecting all the Azuma carcasses they can find.

“Good. I will want a tally on all retrieved Emperor Bolts.”

Dowing his second cup, he asked with more reverence.

“Do the Monks require anything?”

“Nothing as of yet Shogun.” The Captain paused before softly adding, “though all eight temples have gracefully sent for more of their number. Healers in particular.”

“I take it you offered concessions then?”

“No Seo-sang. They offered. But I am certain each Abbot will present you with a request of some sort.”

“Your efforts are greatly appreciated Captain as witnessed by my own eye this day. But those same eyes have revealed to me a startling lack of hanging hooks or Beasts being prepped for harvest as I returned. If we are to recover from this, we need to capitalise on this harvest. Why is there not a gibbet hanging from every Archway and where are my butchers.”

“Forgive me Seo-sang. This is why I was moved to anger against the Tenant. They have been a source of great frustration this last hour.”

“The Arch-Tenant has seen fit to thwart my every attempt at an accurate assessment. He has instructed his tenants and their Scribes to seal their tallies from all eyes. He has sworn only to render the figures to you personally, but now finds himself stuck with the royal visitor. Until then, I am without accurate numbers and am moving men around blindly with only the Sergeants to help out.”

The Shogun gritted his teeth, but kept his calm against this news. Only twice in his life was he aware of the records being sealed and never before on his reign. What had come afterwards was chaos.

“Briefly then Captain. What is your assessment of our causalities and how soon can we be operational for the harvest?”

The Captain paused, catching himself lest he sound emotional in his report. Even though he was lost for words, professionalism demanded tact.

“Our casualties are… not good at all. Most of our number are in need or seeing to those in need. Overall, our fighting force will be lucky to recover from this in a year of heavy recruiting. Realistically it’ll take us two. And that’s just the cumulative effects of training and Seeding.”

“As for our butchers, almost all were behind the second wall already involved in the harvest for expediency’s sake. You’re aware, all our servant harvesters are coreless. So, when the Kaiju came through, a good portion lost their minds and had to be put down, most just dropped dead themselves.

“Even some of our Seeded were left drooling, having skimped on paying for decent Kyu headbands. Those that survived should recover in three days, but that still renders them useless in this harvest. We need to plan accordingly or we’re going to lose most of the harvest, lacking skilled numbers.”

The Shogun made an inarticulate growl, looking for something deserving of his wrath.

Those Taker-loving hell spawn Azuma. They had ruined him… No, the rutting Palace had ruined him. Those bastard Pyeanchi had yet to provide an ounce of metal. The stores having run out even before the Wave hit the wall.

You’re going to have to give me something to go on Captain. There’s a line of Seniors outside my Tent and it’s only growing. As close as you can be certain of.

“Three thousand dead, with another three on death's door. Every single ballistae team, gone… Apologies Seo-sang, but I must ask. He turned to the Grand Master as he finished up corking his vials.

“Can we expect near that amount of healing balms and Potions, or even teas of vitality? We’re running on incense sticks and boiled water.”

A drink was quietly proffered and the Captain gratefully accepted, forcing his hands to cease their shaking.

The men in the tent all looked to the High Sect Alchemist.

“No. Not even close to that number Shogun,” stated the Grand Master matter-of-factly.

The brief silence within the Tent was made worse by the sounds of the injured, permeating it now with greater clarity.

“For every number that didn’t reach three thousand today, Hatsu. That’s how many of my men die. No few of them Seeded by your own High Sect Masters. Can you match that number for targeted production?”

The old Alchemist sensed the gravity behind the Shogun's stare as he considered the man’s words.

“Two thousand is what I can make in a very, and I do mean very, good week. But even then, it will take my students days to gather the necessary ingredients and another for the alchemical formulae to settle.”

“That’s not good enough!”

“Captain!”

The man bowed instantly. Shaking, but remaining bowed until given leave to rise. It was Hatsu who spoke.

“I will send what I can this very night, Captain. But it would be far safer if you arranged for a pickup wagon yourself. Beyond that, it will take me four days. This wave caught us all unprepared. Believe me firebrand, that’s the very best anyone in this whole begotten city can do.”

“I will come,” proffered Cai. “Is two hours enough for you?”

“Barely, but yes. That should give me enough time to give notice to the guards and scrouge up my reserves, without upsetting Won-Shik.”

“Thankyou, Grand Master.” Offered the Shogun. “Leave your list with me and I’ll make sure the Arch-Tenant see’s to it you get your materials and more.”

“No need for more, Tsea-gong. Just what’s on the list. And I urge your man to be cautious. The Houses guard their monopoly on Elixirs with a ruthless zeal. You won’t be thanking me if the Palace or House spies catch him. This is dangerous ground in which we tread.”

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must see to these samples.”

Bidding the difficult Grand Master farewell, the Shogun turned to his Diaymo’s.

“Cai there’s only so much more bad news I can handle today before that head gets company. What happened up there at the Ascendant Gate? Why was a Night Watch flare fired?”

“Forgive me Big Brother, but you need to hear Bo first.”

The Salamander scowled at Bo fidgeting nervously with an enormous Azuma claw.

“Well?” He growled.

Bo straightened, putting away his fresh trophy.

“I’m sorry Tsea. Whilst we were out battling the Kaiju, some wretch dared to strike at us within our very camp. They attacked the Blade Shapers Hall and stole off with a revered relic. Not even I knew of its existence, but apparently, it is used in the smithing of any metal heavy blades.

“WHAT!?”

“Furthermore, they killed the Grand Master. Tsea, it almost looks personal. The man did not die well.”