The Okin had chosen their position well. The natural rock formations in this part of the mountains lent their own particular defensive qualities to a well dug in enemy and the Okinese had wasted no time in taking advantage of natures gift. Their banner, a white dragon on a yellow background trying to catch its own tail, flapped from a small peak that thrust up from the centre of their line. The summit had been hacked into some approximation of a castle turret and the rounded head of a catapult peeked out over the rim, hinting at the horrors that an attacker might face in any assault.

Hatamoto Taketora Ogata was kneeling on the hard stone, oblivious to the pain starting to creep up his legs, as he stared at the defences. The Okinese had done their work well, a series of trenches reaching the entire length of the ridge would impede any attack severely. Even from where he sat he could make out the bowmen that paced the upper trenches, and above them more bowmen who manned the natural toweresque columns of stone that had been carved and hacked into a shape desirable for men to walk in safety.

This was a landscape that gave the defender every advantage. Only the wind, which was strong enough to push at his cloak, would be of any help when it ripped arrows sideways and tossed them among the stones. Even vegetation here was scarce except in the more sheltered cracks and crevices. To the West and East he could see the forest rolling away far beneath them and the smell of Spring was driven to him by the wind. The smell of new leaves, of rain, and of new life, a juxtaposition when you remembered why he was on this mountain ridge.

One did not become a Hatamoto in the Akaiba Army but sitting on ones heels however and he gave a grunt as he rose to his feet, his right hand never leaving the hilt of his short killing sword. The wind, though fierce, did not touch him through the layers of silk and armour that he wore, all of it dyed a deep red colour like the banner that snapped in the wind above his head. Only his mask was of a different colour, a deep obsidian black.

"It's going to be a bastard." A samurai spoke quietly on his right. That man, Masanori Ito, was one of two captains who serving Taketora, both half his age.

"Yes." Taketora agreed without looking at the other man. "But take it we must." He turned away and walked back toward the edge of the ridge behind which his soldiers were sheltering. Their position was concealed from the waiting Okinese and he knew that the enemy did not know how many men he had with him, the only consolation in the upcoming fight.

It had taken a month of brutally hard combat to push the Okinese back up the side of the mountain. In the end, it had been the weather that triumphed, or rather the Runelords who had manipulated the impossible conditions no man could endure for long on the open slopes. When he had climbed the heights for the first time he had found the small holes hacked out by the defenders to serve as shelter. It was no wonder they had retreated upward when the alternating squalls of fire, rain, snow, and gods know what else swept over them. The efforts had drained the Runelords of their power for the moment and so the ridge itself would have to be taken with steel.

Sentries nodded to both officers as they passed. He did not require them to salute on the battlefield, it only served to mark a man as an officer and any archer with half a brain would target such a man first. He gave a grim smile as he observed the long lines of men crouching quietly together, their armour as red as his own. This was the Dodomeki Regiment, a finer group of men he had never commanded. Each had been fighting since they were fourteen and been sent to the Shoguns legions by their parents. A third of them were proper Samurai, the other two thirds were Ashigaru, well armed and well trained foot soldiers from the peasant classes. A single Runelord was present, a novice who had learned her healing spells and would serve to save a few lives today. All had removed the battle flags from their back at his orders, in terrain like this they would only prove a hindrance to fighting men and serve to reveal their position.

Nearest to him were a group of forty soldiers, each one standing at attention and staring straight ahead without comment. All but one were ashigaru, a lone Samurai among them had been stripped of his fine armour and given a common soldiers equipment instead. Each had committed some minor offence, perhaps a chipped weapon or a missing strap, and had been sentenced to a dozen lashes. They had been given a choice however; they could take their lashes and let the shame of their failure mark them forever, or they could lead the charge against the Okin fortifications. This would allow them the opportunity to redeem themselves in battle, or to die gloriously in service to their Shogun. To a man they had chosen to fight. He was proud of them all.

"Men." His voice was not loud but he had their attention instantly. He felt a warm glow in his gut. With men like this he would conquer the world. "The time has come. The wind will render their archers helpless but make no mistake, the defences are formidable. There are three lines of trenches before the fortresses itself and at least two catapults."

He ran his eyes over the assembled soldiers. There were some 900 soldiers crowding close and he saw the intensity burning in their eyes. This was a generation who had grown up knowing nothing but war against the Okin and to them, at long last, the end might be in sight. For the last four years they had fought and died in the mountain passes, on the sides of jagged peaks, and on ridges that had no name. For four years they had bled for the Shogun and now he would ask even more of them. He knew they would not refuse.

"Beyond this ridge, in those trenches, are the Okin. They came to our lands a hundred years ago to make war on our people and now we stand here, on the edge of oblivion, preparing to finish what they started." It wasn't entirely true, the Okin were not defeated by any stretch but when this fortress fell it would be the last of their high mountain strongholds. "For your country! For your Shogun!"

"HOO-AH!" The roar came from 900 voices and they surged forward as he turned, thrusting a fist toward the distant fortifications.

The Forlorn Hope, the men who chose death over dishonour, went first, aiming straight up the middle of the ridge. Three columns formed like living things, one behind the Forlorn Hope and one on either side as they charged across the ridge. Taketora led them.

He was screaming as he charged, letting the fear that every man and woman felt before battle channel itself into something more primal. His katana flashed in the sunlight, the scabbard left behind where he could find it later, and he wanted to see her shining steel dulled with the blood of his enemies.

He heard a distant "whump" and saw the head of a catapult suddenly snap into view. He could spare no more than a glance at the siege weapon as he jumped a small crevasse and dodged around tall boulder. Then he heard a tremendous crash and shouts of alarm that turned into catcalls as the men of Akaiba ran on. He did not look to see if any had been injured, there would be time to help them later.

Crossbowmen suddenly stood in the leading trench and levelled their weapons at the charging soldiers. The flat crack of their missiles being released echoed across the ridge despite the wind and he saw soldiers in the Forlorn Hope jerked backwards as if someone had yanked backward on a rope to collapse among the stones. Blood spattered the grey stone, a stark flash of colour against all the dull rock, until it faded almost instantly to black.

The crossbowmen fired once more and more red armoured soldiers tumbled, some dead, others wounded. Archers in the second and third line tried to use their own weapons but as he had known they would, the arrows vanished into the void beyond. The bows were tossed down and weapons snatched up, a forest of spears appearing all along the lip of stone.

The Forlorn Hope was in the first trench now and he saw a katana rising and falling, stained with blood. Ashigaru were thrusting into the trenches with spears and screaming their battle cries. His own breath was sounding loud in his earths now as he ran, his feet pounding across the hard ground, aware that several of his younger men were beginning to overtake him as they raced for the trenches. His lungs were burning and he could feel the impact of his feet reverberating through his spine.

With a snarl he pushed himself to run faster, quickly arriving at the first trench. The Forlorn Hope had done their job well. Several Akaiba bodies lay sprawled in the ugly embrace of death, but the first trench had been taken, the dead Okinese soldiers curled around the wounds that had killed them. An ashigaru was staring in amazement at the stump of his hand while another was staring at the blue sky in stunned surprise, a crossbow bolt embedded under his chin. He would look back on these moments later with horror and sadness but there was no time to consider them now.

He leapt across the trench and continued to run for the second line. The survivors of the Forlorn Hope were ahead of him, the samurai in the lead, his katana waving above his head. Taketora felt rather than heard the great stone that smashed into the Forlorn Hope, obliterating the samurai and several ashigaru with him. The stone skipped clean over Taketora and crashed into the column behind him. Screams split the air as mens’ lives snuffed out on the cold stone in this high place forsaken by the gods.

The second trench loomed quickly in front of him. The Forlorn Hope was hotly engaged in slaughtering the archers who faced them. The strange conical hats worn by the Okinese troops were scattered everywhere here and he crushed one beneath his feet. His breathing was ragged now and his chest hurt but he did not pause to help the Forlorn Hope, instead passing by them at a run and making his way toward the third trench.

An archer stood and took aim, the tall bow drawing back until the arrow touched the archers ear. The man loosed and Taketora felt the arrow whip past his face, almost jerking his head sideways. He was so close. He gave a final scream of rage and then hurled himself on the archer. The man had thrown down his bow and drawn a longsword but it would do him no good. Taketora's katana knocked the sword aside and he hacked down, severing the mans shoulder from his body. Blood sheeted the stone and the archer collapsed with a scream as Taketora looked for his next enemy.

A crossbow bolt slammed into the stone nearby before bouncing crazily away down the trench. He looked up to see men leaning over the upper lip of the stone to take aim. Desperately he threw himself to the side, striking his head painfully on a rocky overhang as he did. Two more bolts flashed through the space where he had been standing, one ricocheting upward to hit a man behind him in the groin. The man went down with a horrible moan, clutching at his manhood.

Hands pulled Taketora to his feet as his soldiers surrounded him. He appreciated the help but now was not the time to be saving clumsy officers.

"Go! Forget me, I am fine!" He snarled the words at the samurai who had pulled him upright. The man nodded, his teeth bared in some horrible grin, his eyes wild, before turning to charge along the line of the trench. The fighting was intensifying as the Okinese commander fed his reserves into the chaos. Blades flashed in the sunlight, the keen edges glittering as men killed each other. They killed each other with swords, spears, rocks, and even their bare hands, as they fought in the confines of the trench. This was true warfare, not that so often portrayed in stories and legends. This was gutter fighting as men clawed at each other and heaved in a desperate struggle for victory.

The Forlorn Watch was gone, or at least he assumed they were, he had seen none of them since the second trench. His own centre column was hotly engaged and he could see that the Okinese commander had chosen his positions more expertly than Taketora had anticipated, or been able to see at a distance.

The stones scattered across the ridge had forced his men into a natural funnel and while the front ranks of his troops fought, the rear ranks were easy pickings for the crossbowmen above. The Akaiba needed to break through or they would all die in the trench as the Okinese spearmen formed ranks and stabbed down at his men as they tried to claw their way up the far side of the trench. Already the bottom of the trench was a treacherous mix of bodies from both sides. Blood had pooled in small bowls everywhere and it added to the slickness.

Taketora waded into his men, pushing his way to the front until he stood among the men about to leap into the trench, preparing to force the Okinese back. A crossbow bolt slammed into his pauldron and lodged there, luckily missing his skin. He snarled again and picked up a spear from among the dead, stabbing it at the legs of the defenders. He was still stabbing it when something heavy smashed into his helmet, knocking him to the floor of the trench and blinding him to all else. He heard a cheer from the defenders, cheers of victory.

It was not until after the battle he learnt what had happened. Just as the rock had been hurled from above to crush his helmet, Masanori had arrived. He had been commanding the right hand column and his men had swept the defenders there aside with ease. The natural terrain had been steep but no natural funnel had forced his men into a death trap. They killed the Okinese who faced them and then began to work their way toward the centre of the trench, arriving just as the stone struck down Taketora.

The samurai had given a wordless howl of fury and launched themselves on the Okinese as Masanori and his men arrived on their flank. The Okinese held bravely and more men died amid the stones, but they were outnumbered and outflanked. They broke within minutes, fleeing back up the ramps and stairs that led into the main fortress.

Akaiban troops flooded through the gaps torn in the Okinese line and stormed the catapult positions. The engineers pleaded for their lives and then screamed as they were hurled from the heights and into the chasms below. Survivors were hunted through the cunningly carved stone walkways and galleries. Men still died on both sides as small units of Okinese fought to the death using whatever means they could.

Taketora knew none of this until his men dragged him from the trench and doused him with cold water from a well abandoned by the defenders. He sat up abruptly, coughing water and cursing them all soundly until the pain in his head forced him to quiet himself. His helmet was gone, crushed into nothing by the heavy stone. Luckily for him it had been a glancing hit. Blood had clotted over one eye and he was forced to claw at the dried crust, peeling it away so he could at last see again.

The Okinese banner was gone and the gold dragon of Akaiba fluttered from the topmost catapult platform. He staggered to his feet, none of his men daring to offer help, and looked north. He could see survivors of the garrison fleeing through the stones, their weapons and armour thrown aside to aid in their flight. Hundreds of them. He was thankful they had run, though the numbers did not concern him. The armies of Okin had become little but a shell of their former glory as they scrapped the last young men into their ranks and sent them into battle little to no training. It was the sign of a desperate enemy, and even a poorly trained man could still kill.

He took stock of the men around him. He could see dozens of red armoured corpses strewn about the rocky slopes and among the trenches. Dozens more were arranged in lines as the Runelord moved among them to administer healing, or the mercy kill if a soldier warranted it. The smell of violent death was everywhere, the blood deep in some places, and carrion birds already hoped among the dead. Soldiers moved among the stones, collecting trophies, armour and weapons from the dead. Even their own dead would be stripped before they were burned.

Masanori was standing quietly nearby, his swords neatly arrayed in his sash. He didn't say a word as he held out Taketora's own sword, he didn't even know he had dropped it in the fighting.

"Well done, Masanori." Taketora said with a bow. The bow was low, far lower than one might normally expect and he heard the soldiers around him suck in their breath at the great honour given to Masanori.

Masanori looked stunned as he returned the bow, slightly lower as was appropriate. "I only did my duty, sire."

"And you did it well. All of you!" Taketora raised his voice now so that every man nearby might hear him. Even the wounded managed to straighten their backs as he said the words. High praise indeed from a Hatamoto.

Then, incredibly, he bowed to them all. There was a hushed silence and then every man returned the bow and held it until he turned away so that they would not see the smile on his face.

There was much to do and little time to do it. They would need to continue the attack, though a different regiment would be brought forward for that purpose. The Okinese dead would be stripped of anything useful before their bodies were simply tossed off the ridge and into the rocks below the fortress. The Akaiban dead, nearly forty of them, were gathered together in a sheltered area to be burned. The walking wounded began their decent at once toward the main army encampment far below. The rest would follow with the main body of the regiment when they had been relieved.

Taketora could already see his relief winding its way up the narrow goat tracks toward him. He would be glad to be among the trees again, to feel the warm breeze and enjoy the scent of life once more. He would allow his regiment one day of bliss in the trees and local hot springs before he began preparing them for the next step of the campaign. He would have to report to the Shogun of course but Ayeka was well known for letting his commanders fight their regiments as they saw fit. He would likely listen carefully, perhaps ask a question or two, and then dismiss Taketora.

The battle was less than half a day old when the ridge was empty once more. Only the great columns of carrion birds that had come to feed on the dead gave any hint of the violence that had taken place there. It was a battle fought for nothing in the middle of nowhere. Well, not nothing, it had driven the Okinese from their last high mountain refuge. They would feel the noose tightening. The end was nigh. All that remained was to finish the fight and Taketora wondered how many more would die before that end came.

Crown Prince Heo Jeong would be the last of his line and he knew with certainty that his time was coming to an end. He was sitting alone in what amounted to his throne room, little more than a large hut made of animal skins and stiff bamboo. It was a far cry from the ancient Okin capital of Pusan, the City of Golden Spires, a city now ruled by Akaiba, a city he had never actually been to. He had seen the fine paintings and heard the stories but it had fallen shortly after he was born, his mother and father fleeing in the night to escape capture.

Legend had it that his father had looked back on the capital and wept. His mother had scorned him, saying instead "Why weep like a child over what you could not defend as a man?"

What sort of legacy did that leave him? The shame his father had felt had been passed down to his son and stained the family for all time. Thankfully his mother had died when he was six and that at least put an end to their daily fighting. He privately suspected his father might have poisoned her. Just another dishonour on his family name.

His father had retreated into the hills, leaving Heo Jeong to command the armies in the plains and, for a time, he was able to hold the Akaiba at bay. With the aid of his Vai allies he had fought the Akaiba to a standstill, or so he had thought. News had reach him of their attack into the mountains and the capture of one stronghold after another. He had not stopped them, he had only delayed them.

The wind rattled at the tent again and he pulled his thick robe tighter around him. A piece of paper at his feet was sent flipping through the air and he ignored it. Everything had changed with the arrival of that paper. His father was dead. Killed in the high mountains by Akaiban samurai. He doubted they even knew who they had killed, his father had long ago begun dressing as a common soldier and seeking death. It seemed he had found it.

He was King. King of a broken Kingdom, of starving armies forced to live off the land in the north where the largest town he could claim was a mere thousand souls. His allies, he knew, had lost faith in him. They only supported him now in the hopes of keeping a small slice of Okin between them and the rampaging armies of Akaiba.

His fingers curled around the edge of his robe and he tucked his feet underneath him so that he was sitting crosslegged on his throne. Throne, what a farce. It was a carved wooden chair, there were village headmen with larger furniture in their homes.

He had dismissed his advisors while he read the paper from the mountains. They were hardly the clever young men who once advised his Grandfather. They were the men to old to leave, men who sought to somehow line their own pockets with what gold they could before the end came. There were certainly one or two who stayed out of loyalty but desperate times tended to reveal the true soul of a man and many of his advisors had been found wanting.

Hours, no, days, had passed while he sat on that wooden chair trying to decide what could be done. The slow march of doom was upon him, of that he had no doubt. His family, a wife and four children, had been captured by the Akaiba six months previously in a lightning cavalry raid on their caravan. Already he could imagine them encased in some fortress somewhere learning how to be proper little Akaiba. There had been no demand for ransom, the Shogun knew he had no money. There had been no demand to use them as hostages, everyone knew Okin was going to fall.

The eventual reality had come to him the day before he received word of his fathers death. He would surrender. What remained of his people survived in pitiful conditions and the soldiers who still served their King were dispirited and tired, most of their families had been captured and when you left a man with nothing to fight for but his King, they tended to find somewhere else to be.

Perhaps one final battle. He would lead from the front and be cut down by the enemy, a heroic death, something more than a whimper for the histories to remember him by. But what would that leave for his family? He thought of his children being raised by a stranger, an Akaiban, and what that would mean for their future. A future where they might forget who he was and never know his face. He would become just a name on a scroll.

King Heo Jeong, the last of his line, the last ruler of Okin, pulled his robes over his head and wept.

Shogun Sadatake Ayeka slowly rolled upright on his futon, his left leg aching fiercely and he bent down, massaging the damaged limb to restore blood flow, trying not to cry out in pain as the sensation of a thousand tiny cuts began to race through his skin. He hissed through his teeth and waited for the sensation to pass before turning onto his hands and knees, and then standing with the aid of a finely carved wooden cane that lay next to the futon.

The Castle was silent at this hour; the sun hadn't even risen yet, though the first greying of the night sky told him dawn wasn't far off. He stood straighter and stretched his back and gave a sigh as it cracked in several places. The door slid open at once and a maid, bowing low, greeted him on her knees, offering a freshly cleaned kimono.

"Thank you Harue-san." He took the garment and slipped into the soft silk, securing it with the cord about his waist. He no longer carried his swords; age and injury made a mockery of any fighting skill he had left.

"Good Morning Ayeka-sama." A tall Samurai stood next to the door, one hand on his killing sword, and he bowed to the Shogun.

"Good morning Daiki-san." Ayeka nodded his head as he hobbled past the man who fell into step behind him. No alarm or warning had been given but already the castle knew he was awake. Before he had even turned the corner he knew the bedding would be changed and room swept to ensure it was perfect should he chose to return.

A floor of polished bamboo was cool beneath his bare feet; walls of white paper and black bamboo on either side of him. He could smell the fragrant scent of flowers and felt a small breeze caress his cheek. He had always loved the morning, everything smelt new and wonderful in the small hours of the dawn before the sun drove it all away with the intense heat of the afternoon. As he did every morning, he turned at the top of the stairs to step out onto a small balcony that overlooked the castle and city beyond.

The grey sky was quickly turning to blue as the first rays of the sun shot across the landscape; a carpet of green trees dotted with rice paddies surrounding the sprawl of the capital. Ayekas' eyes noted the smart squads of soldiers who patrolled the walls of the castle and colourfully dressed maids who hurried along the small paths between buildings. Seven different fortress gates, all visible from where he stood, began to open at the same time as a deep resounding horn blew throughout the castle signalling dawn.

The city beyond, some of it hidden by the walls and the heights on which the castle stood, was already bustling with life. He could see streets choked with people and animals. The towers and spires of small temples rose up here and there among the wooden roofs. The port, sitting directly adjacent to the castles high plateau, was mostly invisible to him but he could already see the white sails of Formarothian ships coming from the West. A lighthouse, built into the outer wall of the castle, extinguished its light as the sun illuminated the dancing blue of the sea.

"Breakfast, Ayeka-sama." Another maid, holding a small tray of perfectly sliced fish and a tea pot that curled steam lazily from its side.

"Thank you, I will have it here." Ayeka did the same thing every morning but no one dared presume. A third maid appeared at once with a small folding chair and table that were quickly placed on the bamboo. He noted with satisfaction that she had placed them in the perfect location to view the sunrise.

He grunted his thanks again and then sat, allowing them maids to fuss over him as they poured his tea and placed a pair of ivory chop sticks in front of him. Then they retreated, everyone save for Daiki who remained, eyes constantly scanning the castle walls and grounds in front of them for any danger to the Shogun.

Ayeka ignored his bodyguard as he sipped at his tea and took a small slice of fish, savouring the taste as he chewed slowly. The first morning rays still washed the city with soft orange light. He watched as the light chased away the darkness and the warmth of the morning sun finally embraced the whole city. He smiled as he watched several children of the garrison playing with kites on the lower battlements. Some Shoguns might have frowned at the frivolous use of a defensive structure but Ayeka knew what life had in store for children. Let them be children while they could.

Only when the sun had fully cleared the distant horizon did he stand and turn away. He slowly began to make his way down the stairs. Oh how he hated the stairs. Every step on left leg sent a jolt of pain through his lower back and he grimaced inwardly. He could sense Daiki following close behind. Not close enough to be rude, but close enough he could prevent the Shogun from falling down the stairs if needed. Behind them the small breakfast was quickly cleared and the balcony swept.

He was thankful that he only needed to limp down one level at this time. The Throne Room was directly below his own sleeping quarters, which took up the entire top floor of the fortress. Two Samurai stood outside the door and they bowed as he approached before pushing open the small door that allowed him access to the space behind his throne. The colour tone changed here from simple blacks, whites, and brown, to a stunning array of gold and red. Round columns flanked the throne and ran the length of the room. Bamboo tatami matts covered the floor immediately in front of the throne and as he limped up the small steps onto the dais the four men standing before him bowed low. He nodded in return and sat with groan on a small pillow placed for his comfort.

"Emon-san, Hideki-san, Katsuzō-san, and Nagatoki-san. Thank you for coming so swiftly." Ayeka met each mans gaze and they bowed again. They were his chief advisors and had been roused from their own sleep as soon as he left his rooms.

"We live to serve, Ayeka-sama." Emon replied. He was the youngest man in the room and served as commander of the Shoguns bodyguard. Ayeka did not bother to respond; such a statement was expected and polite, as was proper.

"What news of the Imperium?" Ayekas' eyes went to Katsuzō who bowed; he had once been a tall man but age had bent his spine and the right side of his face drooped slightly. He did not hold his position for his look but rather for his knowledge of all things that occurred outside The Three Sisters.

"By last reports they are ready to sail, if they have not already." Katsuzō replied, his voice a gravelly rasp. "Our spies estimated some one million soldiers troops or more."

Silence fell on the throne room as Ayeka considered the number. The number was staggering. Seikatsu as a whole might be able to field comparable numbers but that would mean cooperation between all involved and the likelyhood of that happening was, well, completely unlikely. He grudgingly had to admit the Imperium had picked an ideal time to move against Seikatsu.

"News from Okin?"

"Yes, Ayeka-sama. All good news it seems." It was Hidekis' turn to report. As a Hatamoto he effectively served as the overall commander for all of Akiabas' armed forces. "The last of the mountain strongholds has fallen and that leaves the remnants of Okins armies pinned along the Naga border. I believe General Ryūsuke is moving to crush them in the next few weeks."

"Good. Katsuzō-san?"

"Trade is as good as it has ever been with the Western barbarians. The demand for silk remains undiminished by their civil war. I would humbly suggest we consider requesting aid from them should the Imperium land in Seikatsu." Katsuzō bowed slightly as he spoke.

"A good suggestion. See to it." Ayeka responded, his mind racing as he tried to decide on what would come next. He did not believe that Formaroth would send any soldiers or ships, but it was better to ask now than when the Imperium was smashing down the walls of his castle.

"Leave me." He ordered abruptly and all four men bowed before retreating, the double leaf doors with their red paint and golden dragons closing quietly behind them. For a long while he sat, alone with with his thoughts, as the room grew brighter with the new days sun. The Imperiums movement would force his hand, but he could still use it to his advantage.

Heo Jeong, he would not claim the title of Crown Prince, stood with his hands clasped behind his back. He needed a Kingdom to make Crown Prince mean something; and to call the slip of land he now ruled anything more than a wasteland was a cruel joke. Scrub grassland rolled away in every direction crowned by the small hill he had claimed as his command post. Before him, their ranks decimated by hunger, disease, and desertion, were all that remained of the armies of Okin. Small contingents of allied troops were scattered here and there to strengthen the line, their banners somehow brighter and taller than his own.

A small creek, barely knee deep, ran across the landscape before the front rank and beyond that, drawn up in silent menacing ranks, were the armies of Akaiba in all their blood red glory. By the Gods he hated them.

For his entire life, and that of his father, the Akaiba had savaged the lands of his people. It was a war that his ancestors had once believed they could win but in his fathers time that slim hope had vanished to the wind as the Southern armies swallowed his country whole. Still, he would not go quietly into the night. He had fretted over his decision for the last week as the end drew nearer and decided, at last, to die with his head held high. There was no alternative. The Akaiba would never permit him to live if he surrendered.

"My lord." One of the two staff officers who still lived interrupted his reverie and pointed. A single samurai had ridden forth from the enemy army. He was dressed like all the others in blood red but a black banner on his back told all those watching that he was a man of importance. His halted his mount at the edge of the stream, a bowshot length from the Okin forces, and waited.

"I will meet him. Alone." The last word halted his advisors in their tracks as Jeong snapped his fingers and his horse was brought forward. He swung up into the saddle, settled his longsword, and then rode down the slight slope of the hill.

His army parted in front of him, thousands of desperate eyes in terrified faces; some so young they could not even grow a whisp of hair. Ill fitting armour, weapons to big for their bearers; what a pitiful ragtag army he had managed to scrape from a land already bled dry. Only his Naga allies seemed even remotely prepared but they too watched him with hidden fear. They knew they would die with screaming alongside him when the enemy crossed the stream.

As he passed beyond the front ranks of the army and the crush of stinking armoured bodies lifted he felt the cool wind swirl around him, gently touching his face and making his horses mane dance. As he drew closer to the distant rider he was surprised to see that the man wore no face mask. The Akaiba had always worn masks stylized with snarling faces that served as effective means of terrifying an enemy. To see a high ranking soldier without one was unexpected.

He halted just shy of the water on his own side of a stream, the water so thin that the two men could easily converse without having to yell.

"Crown Prince Heo Jeong." The Akaiba rider bowed his head slightly.

"General Taketora Ogata." Jeong knew the man, having been forced to retreat time and time again by the others ability to turn Jeongs flank. He was an infuriating enemy but one that Jeong had come to respect.

"I am glad you are still alive." Jeong looked for any sort of sarcasm in his enemies tone but there was none; the samurais black eyes regarded him in turn with something bordering on curiosity.

"Not as glad as I am." Jeong offered lamely and, incredibly, the two men shared a weak chuckle. This meeting was fast turning into one of the strangest moments in Jeongs life. He had expected threats, rudeness, a demand for surrender, anything but politeness, especially from an Akaiba. "Have you come to demand my surrender?"

"No." The single word nearly stopped Jeongs heart. Something else was happening here. He glanced to the East and West, half expecting to see dust clouds descending on him from the flank. Nothing but scrub grass and blue sky as far as the eye could see.

"Please forgive me General, but I am at a lose for words then, given out current... Situation..."

The General offered a thin smile and it occurred to Jeong that other man was wrestling with how to proceed. Whatever he had to say was running contrary to everything he had done up to this point. Jeong opted to not push the point and waited quietly. He took the opportunity to study the man who had brought Okin to its knees. Taketora, the eldest of his clan, was a tall and solidly built man who bore a vicious scar across his face that left him with a permanent mocking expression, save for when he smiled.

"The situation, as you put it, has changed. Drastically." Taketora finally made peace with whatever it was he had to say. "I have received word from the Shogun that the Imperium intends to sail for Seikatsu a million strong."

Jeong did not require any further explanation. He felt the pit in his stomach become a yawning black hole as he tried to comprehend the number. A million soldiers. They would swamp the various Kingdoms of Seikatsu, locked as they were in their internal struggles. He wrestled with his emotions. Even if he somehow survived the coming battle with the Akaiba, whatever was left would be destroyed in a matter of months.

"The Shogun," Taketora continued, breaking in on Jeongs thoughts. "Wishes to extend the hand of peace and invite you, and your allies, to join us in preparing to turn back the Imperium."

Whatever Jeong has been expecting in his wildest dreams, an offer of peace was not it. Here he was, ripe for the slaughter, on the edge of oblivion, and he was being offered life. A feeling of elation and a glimmer of hope suddenly kindled deep in his soul and he fought to keep his face from betraying his feelings.

"Peace. On what terms?" He found himself almost whispering the question so that Taketora had to lean forward to hear him.

"The terms are simple. You agree to serve under the command of a general of our choosing. Your force will be kept together, as will those of your allies."

"And should we win, what of Okin?" Jeong knew he could hardly be given his lands back. That would be out of the question.

"Okin is dead, Jeong. There is nothing left now but for you to die. We offer you the chance embrace that death leading your armies against the Elves; to earn undying glory and the gratitude of all those who call Seikatsu home."

"Death behind every door." Jeong muttered ruthfully, though not unhappily. Anything would be better than dying in this barren scrub ridden wasteland, all that remained of his legacy. Death in battle against the Imperium would write such a different legacy, something worthy of the greatest stories and songs, something his son could be proud of.

"Death comes for us all. There is no escaping it. We may not be able to chose when we die, but we may chose how to meet death when it comes." Taketora was watching him intently. The Akaiba considered death a part of life and Jeong had sometimes envied them for that. Now, it seemed, he would understand them at last.

"Who is the General to command us?" Jeong knew he would agree to the Shoguns offer. It was the only choice. But, if he was to go to war in the Shoguns name, he would serve under no inferior.

"Mine." Taketora actually smiled as he said the word, his white teeth brilliant against his red helmet and black silk.

"It would be an honour." Jeong smiled back. They might be enemies but he knew a man of tactical brilliance when he met one. How often had Taketora out fought, out manoeuvred and out marched Jeongs own forces? Often enough to earn him the nickname Destroyer.

"Your highness." The Akaiba General bowed lower this time and Jeong felt his face flush with pleasure. Taketora urged his horse across the small stream and offered a raised hand to the Last Prince of Okin. Jeong took hold of his enemies hand the two clasped forearms. Their eyes met and Jeong felt the strength of the gaze, the Generals next words igniting a fire within him that he had not known existed. It was a battle cry he had heard before, but never, until that moment, had he felt its power.

"Death and Honour!"

Kenji grunted as he heaved himself off the young maid, pausing only to wipe his cock on the edge of her kimono. Two samurai, their faces impassive, watched as they been directed from the nearby doorway. The girl lay completely still as he finished standing, her legs still splayed wide, her private places wet with his exertions.

“You both witnessed it?” Kenji looked at the two samurai who nodded and bowed low. “Good. Get her out of here and if she doesn’t give birth to a child within nine months, kill her.”

The terrified girl was dragged whimpering out of the room, her kimono still open for the world to see her shame. The whimpers turned to quiet sobs as she was dragged down the stairs. Kenji had no doubt that one or more of the men in the barracks would have his way with the girl and she would produce a child. If it was his child she would be rewarded. If not, she and the child would both die.

Another maid flitted into the room and bowed, handing him a clean kimono. He quickly dressed, tying the cord about his waist as a third maid appeared to clear away the still glistening tatami. A fresh one was laid immediately.

He ignored the maids and stepped out of his quarters to pace slowly down the long hallway of black and white chequered paper walls, turning at last into a small room set aside as his personal shrine.

A small satin pillow rested on the bamboo floor in front of the shrine, it bore only a small golden statue of Shakyamuni, the patron God of all those who lived in the Three Sisters. He lit a small stick of incense and bowed his head to the floor, praying that a child would be born with his face.

Even as he did so, he knew, in his heart of hearts, that no child would ever be his. He had tried to impregnate a different maid, or girl, a week for the last five years and none had born him a child. He could feel the tears prick the corner of his eyes as he considered the reality that he would be the last of his line. The succession of his throne was not something to be taken lightly. Without an heir the throne would pass to his oldest living cousin, Sadatake Ayeka, and Kenji was quite certain that this was the same man who had somehow made him sterile. He didn’t know how, but there was no other explanation he could think of.

He was still on his knees praying when the first of the ninja came over the south wall of the castle. They struck first at the Water Tower, a colossal structure that stood watch over the only bridge providing any access to the fortress. Black shapes, protected from sight by a Madoushi spell, swarmed up the walls with the aid of grappling hooks and the samurai guard was swiftly overwhelmed in a hail of shuriken and crossbow bolts.

The alarm was not sounded until a sharp eyed sentry on the upper level of the castle spotted a pair of grappling hooks sail onto the upper battlements of the inner keep. He managed a shout of warning before he was cut down by the attackers.

“NINJA!” The scream went through the fortress like an arrow through a cherry blossom. Samurai leapt from their beds to take up their swords, rushing out into the night to engage the enemy. Many of them had no time to don their armour and they would pay with their lives.

“Kenji-sama!” A frantic looking samurai has burst into the Shoguns quarters. “Ninja!”

Kenji didn’t hesitate as he ripped his killing sword from its sheath and hurried to join his men. A sick feeling filled his stomach as he did so. Ninja were famously expensive and someone would have had to pay a fortune to hire them for such an attack.

The night was alive with shouts, screams, and the clash of steel. A quick glance down at the walls from his upper chamber showed his disorganized and sleepy samurai being driven quickly down the length of the wall by a well prepared and merciless adversary.

A rush of samurai from a side passage momentarily stalled the ninja attack and furious hand to hand fighting engulfed the lower level of the keep. Samurai hurled themselves at their attackers regardless of their own life and limb and were cut down in droves.

Kenji hefted his own blade and waved a number of newly arrived samurai over to join him. He felt his lips peel back from his teeth in a feral snarl. If this was how his cousin wanted to conduct the affairs of state, he would rip his heart out with his own bare hands.

“Nagai!” He snarled his ancestral battle cry and the samurai around him took up the call. Their voices melded together in a ferocious roar as they charged the oncoming ninja.

Kenji began to chant as he went, the runes on his arms bursting instantly into a dull blue glow. His feet felt lighter and it seemed as though everyone around him slowed slightly. He easily blocked the lunge of a ninja, turning his own blade over top of the others to drive the wicked point into the mans eyes.

The ninja went down without a sound as Kenji moved on, stepping low beneath another attack, driving his own blade upwards so that it split the ninja from groin to shoulder. In an instant the pressure on his forces weakened and then broke altogether as the ninja suddenly retreated the way they had come. Kenji gave a yell of victory and, with his samurai in pursuit, rushed after them, bloodied sword aloft.

He never saw the paint blackened caltrops in the darkness as he charged out onto the open battlements, still blinded by the torchlight from the passageway. The first spike pierced the bottom of his foot and he dropped with a scream of pain, a second driving through his thigh, a third into his stomach. The samurai behind him were unable to stop and several others were felled by the wicked objects.

A flicker in the darkness and more samurai were down as crossbow bolts harvested more lives on the battlements. Kenji tried to shout but a falling samurai forced his face down onto a caltrop, a spike stabbing into his jaw.

The samurai retreated in confusion, driven back through the doorway by more crossbow bolts. Kenji tried to climb to his feet as the ninja moved swiftly back down the battlements toward him. Their leader, a stocky man with a red dot on the forehead of his mask, made eye contact with Kenji and recognition flashed in the dark eyes.

Kenji had no time to speak as the ninja stooped and hacked off his head, quickly shoving it into a bag at his waist before giving a sharp whistle. In an instant the ninja melted into the dark and the bloodied battlements were left to the samurai.

Kanna stood absolutely still, her dark brown eyes focused on the opponent in front of her. It was a relatively young man, about the same age as her, holding a bokken at waist level and wearing a practice hakama that matched her own. The kimono was white and tucked into black trousers. White tabi covered their feet. Kanna's own wooden practice sword was also held at her waist, her feet slightly staggered and shoulder width apart on the dark stained wooden floors. The shogun's daughter was patiently waiting for her sparing opponent to strike first.

"Remember Touma, if she lands a strike on you, you're dead." a deep male voice instructed. It came from a tall man, seemingly in his mid thirties with black hair as long as Kanna's, pulled back in a loose ponytail. His name was Toshizo Hijikata and he was the man who lead the Okuri-Okami, an elite samurai unit. He stood on the platform watching their sparring match with experienced eyes. The rest of the Okuri were sitting quietly behind him watching the match. It was their regular mandatory morning practice. The dojo they were occupying was of typical design: white paper walls, double sliding doors that connected the hallway to the room itself, and the practice floors were a step below the staging platform where the group was sitting.

"Begin."

There were a few long moments before Touma finally surged forward, raising his sword above his head to strike her. Kanna did not move until the moment she saw his elbow from the dominant arm indicate the style of attack, his intention to strike the center of her head. It was a basic move and easy to read. Kanna shifted her feet to propel herself forward, her own sword serving as a surface for his to slide against, the end of the handle of her bokken pointed to the ceiling. She then pivoted to her left to swiftly land a tap across his neck.

"Dead."

She stepped back at their instructor's conclusion of the match, giving Touma space and lowering her bokken. He was a new addition to the squad, by recommendation from another unit, and this was his first day of practice. To start with such an introductory sword swing meant he must have been toying with her, assuming she was a weaker opponent with little experience.

"Again and this time Touma, take her seriously."

Both swordsmen resumed their fighting stances and waited for the queue to begin.

"Begin."

This time the young man charged at her with vigor. His swings were moderately heavy handed, but controlled. Even though Kanna was able to deflect his strikes, he gave her no opportunity to return an attack. They both knew that her arms would tired before his, so Kanna had two choices, either to bait out an opening or go on the offensive. She chose to test the first option, feigning fatigue against his blows assuming he still thought her as a lesser fighter. A smirk spread across his face and he moved to knock her sword away, thinking she wouldn't have the strength to recover, maybe even in the hopes that the bokken would fly from her hands and raised his arms once more for an overhead strike. Seizing her chance, she surged forward once more into his space, thrusting the tip of her wooden sword into the hollow of his jaw, stopping him now for a second time.

This time, the word came from her own lips, "Dead." They both stood in silence for a few moments before Touma finally took in a deep breath and stepped back, lowering his bokken. He bowed to her before he spoke. "Thank you for sparring with me and teaching me an important lesson not to underestimate my opponent, Sadatake-sama. I hope that one day you would allow me to face you again."

"Of course Inoue-san. It would be my pleasure to face you again." She returned his gesture and bowed.

Before their instructor could get a word in, the white paper doors of the dojo slid open, revealing her father's messenger. He was shorter than most men, but built for running long distances at a moderate pace making him an ideal messenger. Hijikata met him at the thresh-hold and the two men exchanged whispers before the smaller man departed, his job completed.

"Sadatake, your father wishes for you to travel to the palace. Everyone else, we're running drills!"

They were about a two days ride from her father's estate, as they were currently residing at the castle lead by Takeda Eikichi, the shugo of the Kai province, so Kanna moved quickly to pack her travel bag and saddle her horse. With her belongings in tow, Kanna walked briskly to the stables. She had changed out of her practice hakama, into ones that were for more public settings and designed for women. The kimono itself was a deep red color, with pink sakura blossoms scattered about it's long sleeves. The pants were a silky black with a matching line of cherry blossoms on the hem, placed as if they were being blown by the wind. Her katana and wakizashi were strapped to her left side.

A stable hand helped to saddle her horse, a beautiful young mare with a palomino coat color. A white diamond rested between the mounts eyes, which earned her the name Hoshi, meaning "star". Placing her left foot in the stirrup, she hoisted herself into the plain leather saddle and directed herself south to her father's estate.

---

The journey was easy going from the northern road, as it was regularly patrolled and local farmers kept the peace. She arrived around noon at the North Gate and was greeted by her handmaiden, Hitomi. She was an older woman, having served Kanna since childhood, with greying hair and aging skin. Her once proud frame is shorter than it was. Hitomi greeted her warmly as if she were her own daughter, gathering Hoshi's reigns in her weathered hands.

"Welcome home Kanna-chan!"

"Now Hitomi-san," the young noblewoman started, feigning disappointment, "I am beyond the age for you to be calling me 'Kanna-chan' ".

"Indeed you are and while you have grown into such a beautiful young woman, I still can't help that these old eyes still see the little girl who would cry in frustration when she couldn't tie her own obi!"

A small smile spread across Kanna's face as she bowed to the other woman before dismounting her horse. A stable boy had come during their exchange to retrieve Hoshi, his small hands taking the reins gently from the older woman's. "Take good care of her" she told the boy, before turning back to Hitomi as Hoshi followed the boy obediently. He would make sure her belongings would be sent to her rooms once they removed the tack from Hoshi.

"I have prepared a bath for you and when you are finished I will send word to Daichi-san that you wish to see him."

"How has he been since I've been gone?" she asked. She thought of her twin daily with the foolish hope that maybe his aches would be less, but she knew better. She was there when he was brought back home and had evaluated his body herself. She knew the extent of the damage done to him. A flare of rage ignited in her at the thought of it all, how she wanted nothing more than to inflict the same pain on the people who did it and would slaughter every man, woman, and child of the Imperium if it meant her brother would become whole again.

"He is the same as he was before you left." replied Hitomi, her face neutral. "Come, lets get you cleaned up and into a kimono so you can be fit to see your brother and later, your father."

---

Daichi was seated in the Garden of the Sleeping Stone. It was so named for the pure white stone that sat alone in the middle of a neatly groomed patch of gravel as white as the stone itself. Around the edges, neatly formed and perfectly placed, was a series of little neatly edged gardens filled with small ferns and white flowers. The only mark upon the perfection of the place was the drag mark left by his club foot. How fitting.

He was seated on a bench of white wood that was warm to the touch but, like everything else, it made his hip hurt. He gritted his teeth as he stretched out a leg until it clicked and he gave a small moan of pleasure as he sank back onto the bench. His tongue played along the broken stubs of his teeth as he stared at the stone. He often came here to think and no one bothered him when he did. Meditation was important to him, it allowed him to manage some of his pain, while a hot bath and a massage did much to lessen the remainder of his aliments.

Behind him the white walls of Sadatake Castle towered toward the sky, the tip of a black tiled roof peaking out. In front of him, beyond the stone, stretched the never ending beauty of Akaiba. Green rice patties, thick forests, and bursts of colour where cherry trees blossomed, all of it a stunning tapestry that someone, not him of course, should capture with a brush. The wind that blew today brought with it the smell of the distant snow capped peaks and the fragrant forests that carpeted the lower slopes. The sound of water trickling through a water clock came from somewhere nearby and he closed his eyes, allowing the sound to flow through him.

For a long moment he felt no pain at all. It was as if he had left his own body behind and was now floating weightless above the Sleeping Stone. He could feel no ache, no searing pain, no disgust at his own disfigurement. He was whole once again. Secretly he hoped that one day he might be able to leave his body behind forever as he did now. But not yet. He had revenge to met out first.

He took a deep breath and opened his eyes. The pain and discomfort rushed back immediately and he gave a heavy sigh. He gripped the head of a black ashwood stave that served as his cane and struggled painfully to his feet. He wore a robe of such deep red that appeared almost black that was cute perfectly to hide his feet while not drag along the ground.

"Daichi-sama?" The quiet voice came from a woman clad in a kimono of the same colour. She wore a black mask around the lower half of her face, a pair of swords was thrust into her belt. Only the small red embroidered cherry blossom on her left chest marked her out as one of the Kempeitai.

"Yes, Mamiko-san?"

"Kanna-sama has arrived and is asking for you." The Samurai bowed low as Daichi walked toward her, leaning heavily on his staff. A new drag mark followed behind him; to be erased the moment he left by an attentive servant.

"Is she now!" Daichi brightened up at once before halting abruptly. He hated stairs more than anything else. They had clearly been designed by a sadist who knew that a club footed cripple would one day need to traverse them. At least here, in the Kempeitai wing of the fortress, his father had put in as many ramps or lifts as possible to make Daichi's life somewhat less miserable. "Send her word that I will be in the Tea Room."

Mamiko bowed again and then snapped her fingers. A servant appeared at once, received her orders, and then vanished into the main keep. Daichi began to make his way toward the tea room. It was one of the few rooms in the castle that had small cushioned benches were he could sit with relative ease. He could feel Mamiko at his back but she never once offered to assist him and he felt no pity from her. That was good. He despised those who pitied him.

By the time he reached the tea room a small table was already set with a pot of steaming tea and a kneeling maid. A low bench with its blessed cushion sat on one side, a red pillow fringed with gold sat upon the other. The room itself was simple enough, white paper walls, black wooden frame, and a deep red tatami beneath the pillows and table. A single floor to ceiling window, only possible because of the rooms location above a cliff, looked out over the glittering ocean.

The maid did not look up as he shuffled in, nor did she even twitch as he grunted, lowering himself onto the bench. He stretched out his legs with a groan of pleasure just as the sound of his sisters footsteps sounded on the neatly polished teak floorboards. Mamiko, stationed just outside the door, flashed a hand to her sword but then smiled at someone Daichi could not see. The Samurai bowed and then Kanna stood in the doorway. She wore a traditional black kimono, covered with white cranes and sleeves that fell just short of her knees. The obi was a deep red with golden colored wave patterns and lotus flowers. It was tied in a neat taiko knot at her back. The hiyoku that peaked under the black kimono was a golden color with a white floral pattern and the nagajuban collar that showed underneath the hiyoku robe was a matching deep red to the obi.

Daichi flashed her a toothy smile of jagged teeth and gestured to the cushion across from him. The maid was already pouring the tea. "Welcome sister, please sit. Forgive me for not getting up."

Kanna rushed over to the unoccupied and took a seat, carefully folding the kimono under her knees so it wouldn't wrinkle. "Please, it is not an issue Daichi. You do not have to apologize to me." She reached her slender hands across the table for him to take in his own. "Tell me dear brother, how have you been?"

"As well as can be expected." Daichi replied, reaching out a clawed hand to squeeze her perfect fingers. The swordsman callouses on her palm were rough against the soft skin of his own hand. Even now he was reminded of what he had lost. "How goes the campaign? I know Taketora is returning with the Army, and our new Okin allies in tow."

She ran her thumbs over the back of his hand, feeling the wrongness of his bones. Kanna remembered how strong and capable they used to be. How skilled they once were holding his katana. "It goes well. Under our father's direction, as well as the generals on the field, our enemies were folding easily. Though now that we are at a standstill, it feels... unfinished? We went to war for father to unite all under his banner. What has changed?"
Leaning forward caused his lower back to ache but the touch of another human was so foreign that he remained where he was. As she sipped her tea, and he waited for his to cool enough that it did not hurt his broken teeth, he told her of the news that the Imperium was planning to sail against Seikatsu. Anger filled his voice as he spoke and he at last sat upright, unable to sustain the pain any longer. He had no true news, only the existing whispers and rumours but it was impossible for the Elves to hide preparations of such magnitude. Then he told her of the Ninja attack on Nagai Kenji and the Shoguns subsequent death. Daichi did not directly state that he had orchestrated the attack, but Kanna was clever enough to understand what he had done and what it meant for their family.

"Father leaves tomorrow for Koiba where he intends to press his claim for the throne. I believe he wishes you to go with him." Daichi finished at last. He wanted to go but the travel by horse would to hard on him and so he would remain behind as regent until his fathers return.

Her eyes widened when she realized her selfishness and she quickly pulled back her hands to fold them neatly on her lap, allowing her brother to sit more comfortably. His report left her with mixed feelings of anger towards the impending invasion and excitement towards the goal they have all worked for. Daichi had taken on a different role for their family and she wondered if he enjoyed it. Not because she thought anything bad of it, but because it gave him purpose. "Well, we'll only know of our father's plans once we meet with him, or if anything, Ill give you all the details." She took another sip of her tea, savoring its flavors.

"I would appreciate that." He drained his own cold tea cup and it was instantly refilled by the maid who had cleverly had a second cold pot brought so that he need not wait to drink again. "I have much work to be done in Noiba at this time. There is also the business of ensuring we have agents among our new allies of connivance."
That could not be overstated. The Okin and Naga forces who now marched with the Army of the North were only there because the choice was death for everyone. The Okinese had ceased to exist in all but name, the quality of the forces they could lend to the fight were slightly more than boys with swords, but they would do to soak up arrows.

"Well, in that regard, let me know if I can be of any assistance to you." Kanna expressed as she finished the contents of her cup and stared at the remaining tea leaves. There were fortune tellers who would read the patterns left behind to read someone's future or their destiny. She wondered what it would say about her future and the future of her country, but that thought left her mind as she gently placed the cup down for the maid to refill. She was carving her own destiny, she didn't need leaves to tell her anything otherwise.

For the first time since he could remember, Daichi was in a hurry. His usual measured pace, a consistent tap, click, drag; right foot, cane, left foot; was almost frantic now. Sweat was beading his brow despite the cold emanating all around him. Gone were the white paper walls with their fragile bamboo frames and the polished teak floors. In their place was black volcanic stone, the cracks between blocks the size of wagons filled with green moss; water dripping here and there or running in small rivulets down the stone.

I always expect it to smell of the ocean down here but it never does. At least the floor is smooth. I should thank whoever built this. The same stone had been used on the floor, gleaming beneath lanterns that hung from the ceiling.

Tap. Click. Drag.

Behind him, moving with a lethal silence, came Mamiko. If it hadn't been for her shadow flickering across the walls, Daichi might have thought he was alone in the black corridor. A corridor broken every twenty paces by iron banded doors, the wood treated with honey and ash to preserve them amid the damp.

He thought he could detect screams behind some of the doors as he passed but encountered no one else in the long passage. Tap. Click. Drag. No passages branched off anywhere and he often marvelled at how the effect of the volcanic walls and floor made it look as though the lanterns were nothing more than small fireflies glimmering away into the pitch darkness.

"Here, Daichi-sama." Mamiko broke in on his thoughts. She has quite a habit of doing that. I wonder if she does it on purpose. He stopped abruptly in front of the final door in the long corridor. Beyond the small of pool of light he now stood in was a single iron gate was set into the rock. The very end of the passage. It led to a cave many steps below large enough for a single boat to access. The only way any of the prisons ever arrived.

He turned to the wooden door and tapped his cane on the wood. It was opened at once by a man who looked as though he had been carved from granite. Like Mamiko, he wore the deep red kimono and half face mask of the Kempeitai. He bowed low.

"Kai-san." Daichi nodded a greeting as he limped into the room. It was not more than twenty feet across, completely square and even the cracks between the stones had been cunningly sealed with a mixture of volcanic ash and plaster. In the middle of the room, on a platform raised a single step off the ground, was a large stone table. To one side was a wooden chair with pillow. He had never been so glad to see a pillow. Across the table was a matching chair and, slumped in it, head lolling against its chest beneath a woollen bag, was an Elf, still in the uniform of an Imperium officer.

I would drool in anticipation if I didn't think it would just dribble down my chin. It took him a moment to ease into his chair. He shifted around for a moment or two, his neck clicking and his hip popping, until he was as comfortable as he was going to get. Kai had moved behind the prisoner and was watching Daichi for a sign that he was ready.

At least I have the attention of someone. No grimaces or looks of pity from either of my trusted watchers. I wonder if he can smile. I thought I was a serious one. He nodded and Kai took the bag between finger and thumb before whipping it off the elfs head. I always expect them to sit bolt upright when that happens but not once has it ever happened.

The elf did not move. Dried blood crusted the corner of his mouth and an impressive black eye was forming. Daichi knew that he had been captured by Wokou, or pirates, in the Eastern Sea. It was no secret that Sadatake Daichi paid gold for such prisoners. The Wokou had made contact a day earlier and, in exchange for a license to hunt the enemies of Akaiba, they had turned the elf over to the Kempeitai.

Daichi ran his tongue over the broken stubs of his molars and clenched the fingers of his right hand until they hurt. There had been a time when he would have tortured the elf simply for the fun of it. Now, however, he needed information.

"Wake him up." Daichi glanced at Kai who nodded, his face still impassive behind the black mask. The big man stepped in front of the elf and gently began to pat the prisoners cheek. It was a tender touch, almost like a mother trying to wake a sleeping child.

He does that so well. He has no children as far as I know. Perhaps he is a closet father. Daichi would have giggled at the thought if he wasn't in public.

The patting worked. It always did. The elf began to nod his head, his eyes blinking in the light cast from the lantern above him. He coughed once and the spittle came out clear. Good, no internal injuries then, perhaps a cut cheek. Daichi felt the scars on his own cheeks and relished the coming conversation.

"Who..." The elf didn't get another word out as Kai suddenly pulled back his hand and administered an open palm slap to the side of the the prisoners head. The elf gave a surprised scream of pain as the blow lifted him and out of the chair, which rocked for a moment and then remained in place.

How does he do that? To knock a person out of a chair but leave the chair in place. That is skill. Daichi waited patiently as Kai knelt and easily lifted the elf back into the chair. The elfs eyes were rolling widely around the room now as he took in the two masked Kempeitai, the black stone and finally Daichi who stared back without expression. Fear blossomed in the prisoners eyes.

"Your name?" Daichi asked the question carefully. Getting smacked upside the head tended to disorient prisoners.

"Who..." An open palm slap interrupted the question. Not hard enough to knock the elf from his chair this time but enough to snap his head back so that the blue skin of his throat gleamed in the light.

"Your name?"

"Xilra..." The elf muttered the name. "Fleet..." The slap again.

"Just answer the questions I ask you, Xilra." Daichi noted Mamiko out of the corner of his eye taking notes. Good girl.

"Who are..." This time the blow was strong enough to toss the elf from his chair again. Kai moved quickly to prevent Xilra from hitting his head on the ground. He did nothing to prevent the elfs shoulder from striking the edge of the platform, eliciting a sharp gasp of pain.

Music to my ears. And this is only the beginning."Just answer the questions I ask you, Xilra." Daichi repeated himself slowly and this time the elf nodded. A shame. I would have liked to see you get smashed out of that chair at least once or twice more. "Your rank?"

The elf looked at him with something akin to exasperation before replying. "Fleet-Captain."

"Good." Behind him the quill scratched on rice paper. Daichi thought he detected a whiff of rose water with the movement. Interesting. "Fleet Captain Xilra. You are going to die down here." Eyes bulged in Xilras head. "The only thing you have a choice in right now, is how long that is going to take and how much pain you wish to undergo."

The elf licked his lips but didn't speak. A fast learner. Will wonders ever cease. Then a nod. Poets and storytellers always portrayed the subjects of torture as brave and courageous right up until the bitter end but Daichi had always found things to be quite the opposite. Tie someone up in a chair in a dank dungeon, slap them a few times, tell them they are going to die slowly, and most will tell you anything you want to hear.

"In case you are wondering what the alternative is..." A heavy wooden chest had been placed at one end of the table and Mamiko set aside her scribing tools to open the case. It had been built so that the back was raised, allowing anyone to look into the interior with ease. An array of tools lay before them. "Unlike some of my colleagues elsewhere in the world, I am not one for pulling finger nails or gouging eyes. No. I learned from your people that the teeth are a wonderful conduit of pain."

The elf paled as Daichis lips peeled back from his broken teeth into a snarl. The closest his he ever came to smiling. The movement alone caused his own gums to flare with pain and he grimaced. He cracked his jaw with a deft movement of the lower mandible and the elf shuddered at the sound.

"So. Keeping all of this in mind. I want you to tell me all about your fleet, Fleet-Captain. Spare no detail. I intend to compare it to what I already know and, who knows, if you know something useful I haven't learned already, I might even let you see the sun one more time before you die."

He had only visited Formaroth once in his life, when he was a teenager, just entering manhood, when his own father had sent him with a trade delegation. It had been an eye opening experience. He had found the people to be rude, the "palaces" small and dark, the castles dark and sinister. Formaroth had none of the beauty, none of the grace or patience, that could be found so widely in Seikatsu. When he had returned he had shared his experience with his father who had just nodded and reminded his son that the western barbarians might not be much to look upon, but they were dangerous. It was the reason, to this very day, that the Gaijin were kept confined to a small island off the coast of the capital. It was the only place their ships might land and they themselves were not permitted to enter the Land of the Gods.

And yet, I am about to send my daughter into their den. Ayeka stared up at the imposing bulk of Sadatake Castle. There was no other fortress like it in the world but he feared that even with the impressive battlements, formidable location, and massive garrison, it might now be enough to defeat the Imperium. If they are battering down those walls, it means the rest of my country already lies in ruin.

The thought caused a knot to form in his stomach as he imagined the beautiful cherry orchards burning, the neat little white and black homes smashed beneath an invaders boot. The feeling was quickly replaced by a savage anger. No such thing would happen while he was Shogun. We will make them bleed for every inch. Oh yes, a blood letting like the world has never seen.

Already the Shogunate was filled with a purposeful buzz of energy as the people prepared for war. This was no campaign to expand the Shoguns borders, no trade dispute, no ordinary war. No indeed, this was a war for the survival of their species and no one knew better than the Iba how to prepare for war. It was in their blood. It was their nation. It was in their very soul.

They will come, and they will die in their thousands. Ayeka curled a fist behind his back as he made the silent promise to the city that lay before him. It was home. The greatest human city the world had ever known and he would give his own life before he let a single elf call himself King of such a place.

"Father." Kanna appeared on the deck behind him. He had been oblivious to the hurried movements of the crew, all of whom had given him a respectful distance as they prepared for sea. The Storm Reaver, his fastest ship, would carry his only daughter to Formaroth.

He turned to look at her and smiled, as he always did. I have been so fortunate in my children. But she is special. She will be Shogun someday. It was written into law that the first born child would become Shogun and she had arrived a minute before her brother. It is just as well. There is an anger in my son that would destroy this land to achieve the revenge he seeks. He extended a hand to her and she came willingly to him for a hug.

"Our home depends on you. Do not fail." He whispered the words into her ear. Simply said, carried the weight of a continent with them. He had no doubt his people would make the Imperium regret ever sailing but, in his heart of hearts, he knew survival was unlikely.

Kanna took his words to heart as she embraced her father, relishing in the warmth of his embrace. "Of course father." She whispered back. The shogun's daughter was still processing what her father had discussed with her just a few days prior after her meeting with Daichi. He was sending her overseas to plead for help on behalf of the country. She had never left home before. In fact, Kanna was hesitant on leaving given what atrocities happened to her brother, but she knew she was their best chance if they were to receive help from the westerners. "Would you like me to bring you back a souvenir?" She tried to bring some humor to the situation, attempting to hide her own uneasiness.

The Shoguns smile grew broader and he stepped back, holding her shoulders with his scarred hands. She was as beautiful as she was clever and he had no doubt that she would make them all proud. "Bring me back a stone for my garden. We will name it together."

"Do you think they will have stones worthy enough of your garden? I think from your stories of this Formaroth, I will be hard pressed." She clasped her hands in front of her, her long kimono sleeves completely covered her hands with its black cotton fabric. She was dressed casually for travel. Her silken robes would be soiled by the voyage.

"Then bring nothing back but yourself, and an army." Ayeka replied, dropping his hands to the swords at his waist. "I have asked Captain Yasuda to escort you, along with his men."

He waved a hand toward the side of the ship and a dozen samurai, all dressed in the same black as her dress, lopped onto the deck of the ship. Each was heavily armed and she knew all of them from their long service in her fathers court. They bowed as one. Both Kanna and Ayeka nodded in response.

"They will keep you safe. Trust no one." He stepped forward and kissed her gently on the forehead. "The Gods protect and guide you."

He turned and strode from the ship, down onto the stone quay where his own bodyguard was spread out, eyes ever watchful. The Captain of the ship, forewarned that this allowed him to make sail, began to shout orders and men ran for the big square sail as the lines were dragged inboard.

Ayeka raised his hand in farewell.

"And you" she said in return as she watched him leave the ship. The wind that now pulled at her clothes and hair smelled heavily of salt water. Kanna turned her face to the force that would carry them westward to an unknown future. Will these people help us, or will I be wasting my time? Fear gripped her stomach at the thought. She did not fear death, but she was afraid of not being there for her people when it came to their shores. Her slender hands gripped her katana tightly as she calmed her emotions. The shogun's daughter couldn't afford to loose her nerve, the fate of her country depended on it.

Kanna brought her attention back to shore when she felt the vessel lurch towards the sea, no longer bound to the land. She found her father's raised hand and returned the gesture with a heavy heart. This was the first time she ever left the country and she wished it were under more favorable circumstances. All hands were on deck, maneuvering the sea faring vessel into open waters and Kanna stayed topside until she could no longer see her father standing at the dock. Once he was out of view, she made her way to her cabin. She had a lot of preparation to do before she faced foreign monarchs.

Impressive. Most impressive. No end of stairs though, of that I am sure. Daichi stared up at the imposing bulk of Tanaka Castle. The structure had none of the beauty Sadatake Castle was famous for; rather it squatted like some monstrous toad astride the Great Silk Road as it ran north from Karaam into Noiba. The walls were built of black volcanic stone; the roof neatly tiled with red ceramic and trimmed at the edges with white. I suppose it is beautiful in its own way.

The wagon creaked beneath him and he glanced down at the driver who had shifted his weight. The mans gaze was straight ahead but Daichi could sense the man waiting for the word to move. It was almost embarrassing to be carted around in such a manner. He could still remember the motion of a horse beneath him and the power that it gave a mounted man over his foot slogging rival. A short shake of his head and he sucked on his gums, tongue playing along his broken teeth, before he grunted and the driver cracked the reins.

A small port had been built the service the massive fortress, large enough to allow small supply ships. A road had been hacked through the broken ground and thick brush up onto the low plain. The castle was situated atop a large rocky outcropping directly in the middle of a gap between the two mountains that served as natures gateway into Noiba. The ground around the castle had been cleared right up to the mountains, leaving a massive killing ground that any enemy would have to cross in order to attack the battlements. As an added touch, the river that ran from the north had been diverted so that it formed a lake around the base of the fortress before spilling over a small waterfall and running south into Karaam.

The cavalry escort closed in around Daichi as thee castle loomed above them. He had come with a token force, enough to protect himself from bandits but hardly enough to do much else. The fortress itself was still manned by Noiban troops, only recently educated as to their reintegration into the Shogunate. It was yet to be seen just how happy they would be about that. I hope for a parade and open arms, but I think I'll be lucky not to just end up a pincushion. He could see spearpoints twinkling on the ramparts as they drew closer and noted that the Noiban flag still flew from the keep. Not a great start.

It took the better part of thirty minutes to cross the killing field and he felt, rather than saw, the siege weapons tracking him from up above. He made no effort to hide his face, nor his robe, and the four black masked Kempeitai certainly gave away who he was. Hopefully they didn't just decide to slaughter him and be done with it.

A single bridge crossed from the castle and into the killing ground. It was hauntingly beautiful, a work of art done in red wood, a total of four long arches spanning the nearly still surface of the lake so that it reflected almost perfectly. Even here, in this valley designed for death, man has made something beautiful. The sound of hooves on the wooden deck was suddenly loud and Daichi cast his gaze to the north where a thick mist clung to the mountaintops and lush green forests spread down to carpet the valley bottom. A waterfall fell dramatically over one mountain spur, tumbling away until it vanished into the forest below. A land of perfection.

"Halt! Papers!" The bark of the Samurai guard who stood in the middle of the bridge brought the wagon to a halt. The cavalry escort had closed in behind Daichi and only his Kempeitai stood in front of him, Mamiko among them. She stood forward to present the papers issued to him by his father. The Noiba Samurai held them between thumb and forefinger as if they might contaminate him by their very touch.

"Today." Mamiko hissed the word and the samurai bristled at the tone. Daichi's eyes narrowed he flashed his broken grin. The man recoiled instinctively. "You know who I am. Stop wasting my time with your bad manners."

The samurai met Daichis gaze for a moment but then quickly bowed with mumbled apologies and handed back the papers to Mamiko who strode past him without a glance. Daichi spared the man a short nod and saw relief in the dark eyes. Never insult a man unless you intend to fight him, and I can't fight anyone.

Ahead of them the castle gates, massive steel affairs set into the volcanic stone, stood open with another samurai guard barring the way. Again the formal reading of papers and ritual bows occurred before they were waved on with greater ceremony than the bridge. The gatehouse here was actually a water filled courtyard spanned by a pair of drawbridges, one narrow enough for men to walk single file, the other large enough for a cart. Both were down but Daichi could see shadows moving behind the arrow slits above him.

Still more gates, more inspection of papers, and more bows, as the cart climbed a long ramp that ran around the base of the fortress; climbing slowly toward the summit. Bless them, I could almost walk this myself. The easy climb was misleading however, at every angle he could see firing platforms that would allow defenders to pour arrows into an attacking force; more than a few runes glowed faintly on the stone. This was a fortress designed to break any army that crashed against its walls. It was no wonder that Karaam had never made an effort.

They reached level ground at last and a final gatehouse, as thick and intimidating as the last half dozen, loomed over them. A sharp left turn, followed by a sharp right, and two more gates, brought them at last into the courtyard of the keep. A small unit of samurai was drawn up as an honour guard behind a tall thin officer dressed in light green tunic and white armour. General Shizuo Yokoyama I presume. Daichi had read everything he had available on the garrison commander and the livid white scar that bisected Yokoyamas face was all the more impressive when seen in person.

Mamiko stepped forward to fold down a set of stairs from the cart and Daichi descended carefully to the courtyard. His hip clicked and pain shot up his spine every time his right foot touched a stair. He forced himself not to grimace. Only when he was safely on the ground did he note that it was finely cut flagstones or brick but rather the polished stone of the mount itself. An impressive feat and he found himself wondering just how miserable had been to make it just so.

Click. Tap. Drag.

The sound echoed in the courtyard and Daichi forced himself not to flinch at the noise. The rhythm of my life and yet it still bothers me. Will I ever get used to it? The Kempeitai had closed in around him as the cavalry dismounted and held their station behind his wagon. He could see the General assessing him. And what does he see? A cripple with no teeth, duck feet, and a lame limp. This ought to inspire all sorts of confidence in my taking command here.

Click. Tap. Drag.

"General Yokoyama-san." Daichi spoke first. He had come to realize that most military men needed to be addressed quickly before they could speak down to him; using their rank tended to make them somewhat more cooperative.

"Crown Prince Daichi-sama. Welcome to Tanaka Castle." The general bowed bowed low. The movement was echoed by the honour guard behind him and it caught Daichi off guard. He quickly bowed himself, not as low as the General but more than enough to be polite. The military man straightened and glanced at Daichis escort. "Perhaps your men might like to make themselves comfortable?"

"I am sure they would, thank you." Daichi nodded to Mamiko who relayed the order. "After you, General."

"No, please. I insist." Came the calm reply. No expression crossed the scarred face and Daichi found himself warming to the man as he made his way into the keep.

Click. Tap. Drag.

---

Truong Huy San was the tenth in a long line of fishermen who made his living harvesting the rich bounty teeming in the oceans off of Beival's Eastern coast. The day had begun like any other as he dragged his small fishing boat down to the tideline and out past the first few breakers of the early morning hours. His nets were already in place, a crab trap or two near the stern, and he clambered aboard to raise the single lateen sail. It caught the offshore breeze and he felt the little vessel surge beneath him and he took a hand to the tiller, guiding his the sturdy craft through the reef beyond the shingle beach and out into the ocean beyond.

The same wind that drove him eastward was pushing the mist that usually cloaked the coastline at this hour out to sea. It was a promising start to a day when he anticipated a generous catch. If he caught enough, he could rest tomorrow and repair some of his other nets, maybe take his son to the play in the nearby village. It was all the motivation he would need to put in a long day on the water.

He gradually became aware of a strange hum coming from the fog. He craned his neck, trying to peer into the white bank that was slowly retreating ahead of him; he unable to see a thing. The noise grew in volume the further he went and he began to feel afraid. He was a grown man who had been fishing these seas for nearly forty years without incident, but nothing would break him of his superstition that monsters lurked beneath the waves.

A heavy gust from the mainland heeled his boat over even as it served to shred the fog bank to pieces. What appeared before him caused his heart to go cold. The morning sunlight, just kissing the horizon, revealed ships, more than he could have ever imagined, spread out as far as he could see, blanketing the horizon. Their mass of white sails appeared like an unearthly cloud bank that moved slowly northward. He didn't need any formal education to know who the vessels belonged to. There was an Elven colony a few miles from where he lived and he saw their ships often enough. But this was something else.

Without a moments hesitation, he swung the boat around and began to tack upwind toward his village. As the fog bank continued to clear he could see that ships were already arriving at the Elven colony. Others were anchoring along the reef line and disgorging small boatloads of soldiers toward the white sand beaches that had seemed so serene and peaceful only an hour before.

It took him the better part of two hours to return to the beach and already smoke was thickening in the northern sky as elven troops rode inland and began to savage the countryside. He could see cavalry moving among the infantry as they poured up the beach. More ships were arriving and the few boats rowing ashore turned into dozens, then hundreds. The scattered groups of elven forces became a river, and then a tidal wave of dark shapes that hid the beach from view.

The sand and shingle crunched beneath the bow and he sprang into the water, abandoning the boat as he ran for the village. He could see small groups of peasants clustered together as they stared at the smoke that smeared the blue sky, his family among them. He looked north again and felt the cold hand on his gut once again. Elven soldiers were beginning to appear at the edge of the village rice paddies. Water exploded beneath their feet as they rushed toward the terrified villagers.

"RUN!" His scream seemed to break the spell of disbelief holding his family rooted in place. As one, like a flock of birds, they turned and fled south. He almost sobbed in relief as he hurried after them, his legs burning with the effort of running through the fine sand. He could hear the shouts of the elven soldiers, their whoops and cheers as they caught sight of the fleeing villagers. Fear flooded through him.

Screams ahead of him now and he reached his family even as they began to recoil. More soldiers from the south. It took him a moment to recognize the spiked helms and gold trimmed armour but in that instant he understood that he was looking at soldiers of Beival.

"They are ours. Run to them!" He pushed his family forcefully, his energy giving them the strength to continue running. They splashed into the rice paddies, the water instantly soaking them to the knee. His legs screamed in protest. He was a fisherman, not a soldier, running was not in his daily routine.

The column of soldiers hurrying northward paid them little attention, though a mounted officer turned aside to shout at them. "It is not safe to the south. You must go inland. Make for Phuong!"

Truong waved his thanks to the officer and continued to usher his family into the bamboo forest that crowded up against the rice paddies. He wanted to turn and watch the coming battle but in his heart of hearts he knew it was already over. The elves on the beach had been to many, and the arriving Beivalian soldiers to few.

Behind him he heard a cheer as the two forces charged home and then he pushed into the bamboo after his family. They would run, they had to, their lives depended on it.

---

Cillotah Xilzina stared up at the imposing bulk of Sadatake Castle as his ship coasted into Shinkyo's massive outer harbour. Thousands of small boats and hundreds of ships bustled to and fro across the azure surface, small fish darting swiftly over the sandy bottom beneath the keel of the Elven ambassadors vessel.

This is the wealth of Seikatsu. He thought, eyes locked on the huge fortress that dominated the entire city. And we're busy pissing about in Beival. I will never understand that. He had been a firm advocate for attacking Akaiba first, the most powerful of all Seikatsu's nationstates, but the council had seen fit to chose Beival where they already maintained a foothold.

The elven ship was flanked by a pair of Akaiban warships. They were slightly larger, narrower, and certainly faster. He found, to his surprise, that his made him uneasy. He had made Akaiba his personal study over the past several years as the Imperium planned for their great invasion. Like most elves, he considered the humans inferior, what else could they be, and had learned most of what he knew from books and merchants. It seemed that the books and merchants had greatly underestimated Akaiba.

The Iban pilot, a tall thin man who spoke to none of the elven crew, was carefully guiding the gold wrought hull toward a long stone jetty that lay separate from the others. It took Cillotah a moment to realize that they were being taken to an island that was covered in a mishmash of Formarothian, Seikatsu, and Elven style buildings. He had read of this island of course, the Island of the Gaijin. It was the only place a none-Iban was permitted to land when in Akaiba and he felt a flash of irritation. He was an ambassador by all that was holy.

"Go there!" He pointed to the main jetty, some distance further beyond. His Iban was atrocious and he knew it. The pilot simply shook his head.

"Forbidden." Was all the man said. Cillotah would have stomped his feet if he thought it would work but his short time with the Iban aboard had convinced him it would have only reinforced the idea of a spolied elven princeling.

You disgust me, elf. The pilot watched the elven ambassador from the corner of his eye. You do not think that we all know you bring war to our lands? I think you will find nothing but your grave here. He spun the ships wheel expertly to guide the vessel between a pair of big barges that were crawling across the harbour. He stood on his toes to see properly and then gave a shout in badly accented elven.

"Sheet home sail! Launch boats!" The crew stared at him for a moment until the ships captain snarled the order again and they rushed to obey. The ships momentum dropped away until they were barely gliding across the surface of the ocean. The ships boats were quickly lowered and willing elves took to the oars, pulling strongly to draw the ship closer to the Island of the Gaijin.

"Drop anchor!" The pilot did not need his ordered echoed this time and the anchor roared overboard, shattering the calm water with a huge splash. "There. I go now." The pilot didn't wait for a response as he strode to the side and dropped into his own little boat. He lifted the oars into place and began to row toward the island.

As if on cue a decorated barge put out from the island, four large sweeps drawing it quickly across the water toward the elvish ship. Cillotah could make out eight oarsmen, four samuari, and one man in a plain grey robe. He made eye contact with Cillotah as the barge drew closer and though he raised no hand in greeting, the elf knew his counter part had arrived.

The ships crew hastily set up a table and chairs on the deck, clearing a space for the two to speak. Cillotah was already seated, a small silver mug with elven wine in front of him, when he heard the Iban boat gently bump into the side of the ship. The Iban ambassador swiftly gained the desk flanked by a pair of watchful samurai who looked about them without expression. A stoic bunch indeed. Cillotah stood and bowed to the Iban who returned the gesture.

"Welcome, I am Prince Cillotah Xilzina of the Elven Imperium."

"Shintaro Abe, on behalf of his lordship, the Shogun Sadatake Ayeka."

It took Cillotah a moment to remember that the Iban put their last names first, identifying their house and therefore their lineage. He did not recognize Shintaro but thought it best to keep that knowledge to himself. The Iban tended to be a touchy lot and there was no sense antagonizing their ambassador.

"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me." Cillotah sat, gesturing to the other chair. The Iban looked at it for a moment and then perched on the edge of the seat.

"I was ordered to do so. It is my duty." Shintaro responded. And if I have my way I will personally hack your head from your shoulders, you blue skinned snake. He, like many of his kin, had lost family in the various engagements with the Imperium. It was likewise common knowledge that the Imperium had come to Seikatsu with the intention of conquering the continent. What is it you want?

"Duty is important, is it not." Cillotah found himself agreeing with the Iban. When the other man did not reply he decided to get to business. From what he had read, the Iban were not ones for small talk when it came to dealing with foreigners. "I have come to offer your Shogun an alliance."

"Go on." The Iban did not even bat an eye at the idea.

"You are no doubt aware that our forces have landed in Beival with the intention of securing that region for the Imperium." Again the Iban remained silent. "General Neldor, supreme commander of our armies, would like to invite you to join us in crushing your traditional foes in Draivim and Keraam. In return he offers to turn Keraam over to Akaiba as a client state and identify that as the new border between your great state and ours."

Right, and I am the Queen of Formaroth. Shintaro wanted to laugh in the elfs face but he had been given strict instruction by the Shogun.

“Let the elf make his offer. I imagine he will dangle the lure of Kareem in our faces as though we cannot take the territory on our own. Never forget, the elf thinks he is superior to the human and the idea that we are powerful in our own right has probably never crossed his mind. When he offers you the bait, take it, say thank you, and then we will destroy him.” The Shogun had been very clear and Shintaro knew that for every idea he himself had, Ayeka was ten ideas ahead of him.

Praise the gods that he is on the throne now. Any other one of his siblings and we would be dead already. Shintaro resisted the urge to smile slightly and nodded slowly as if he were considering the elvish offer.

“They will take the offer. They have no choice. They cannot fight us and Kareemese at the same time.” Neldor had been confident when he had issued his instructions to Cillotah before the ship had sailed for Akaiba. “We, on the other hand, can conquer their whole kind without assistance. But wouldn’t it be nice if they helped?” How the assembled officers had chuckled at the notion.

“How do you intend to have use assist?” Shintaro asked, still immobile on the edge of his seat. A pair of seagulls circled overhead screaming and one shit on the table between the two men. Cillotah started. Shinatro did not move.

“Er, General Neldor suggested that an Imperial army land in Noiba, and with your support, march on Kareem from the west. This would catch them between our two forces and allow us to ensure none can flee to regroup later.”

Exactly as Ayeka said they would suggest. Shintaro felt a glow of admiration for his Shogun. The man was as clever as his daughter was beautiful. “I find this acceptable. How many soldiers will you be sending?”

“Seventy thousand.” Cillotah said proudly, expecting some sort of reaction from Shintaro but the man might as well have been carved of stone. He snapped his fingers and a map was brought forward and spread across the table, smearing the seagull shit across the back. “I would suggest here.” He tapped a bay roughly half the way along the Noiban coast.

“No.” Shintaro said simply. “Here.” He tapped a point much deeper into Kareem. “Our armies already occupy much of their territory and your army will be of no use in the fighting if it is hiding behind our lines.”

“Provoke him, but carefully.” Ayeka had said as Shintaro took his leave. “Suggest that his race are cowards. He will take the bait.”

“Very well,” snapped Cillotah , stung by the insult that elven forces would hide behind anyone. “This is agreeable. We can have our armies in place in one month. Will that suit you?”

“Yes, perfectly.” Shintaro nodded and sat back on his edge once again.

“All that remains is for us to draw up the paperwork then, and the smaller details of course.” Cillotah waved a pair of scribes forward and the real negotiations began.

---

The shogun's daughter watched from the deck of the Storm Reaver as the vessel approached foreign shores. They had been at sea for nearly a month's time and while she was glad to see land, Kanna also felt uneasy. A crisp autumn breeze tugged at her black haori, a kimono-like overcoat that she had brought for the impending colder weather that went over the more formal kimono she wore for landfall. She should be in her cabin to protect the fabric of her clothes, but she wanted to see Nyhem for herself as soon as it came into view. Everything about this new country was different from Akaiba, even the waters they currently sailed in.

As the shore drew closer, she was able to make out the city. The guide she hired for this trip, a Nyhem native woman named Meredith, had informed her on their journey about the history of the city and some of it's customs. Meredith was to serve as her guide and translator while in the country, as Kanna has some knowledge of the language, she was simply not accustomed to speaking it nor was knowledgeable about social formalities. Directly in front of the ship, and what drew her attention, was a grand cathedral that stood at the edge of the city and the mouth of the river. While still at a distance, she couldn't make out intricate details but she could tell the building had ornate windows that were nestled into white stone walls and protected by red tiled roofs with high peaks. While the people of Akaiba have their own religious practices, temples, and shrines, she found the Cathedral in comparison to be both beautiful and excessive.

Behind the cathedral was the rest of the city, but she could only make out the red roofs. To it's left stood the keep that was home to their Emperor. Kanna didn't understand why such an important building would be at the front of the city unless they never planned to be assaulted here. The building had the same color scheme as the rest of the buildings of Nyhem. From her position at sea she could only see it's high reaching peaked roofs and tall crenelated outer walls. She could see no entryway from her position, so she assumed there was only one main entry in and out.

Only time will tell if their military might is as great as they think it is.

With that final thought, Kanna turned to go back below deck to allow the men to work unhindered as the Reaver crept ever closer to the port.

-----

Cerlina had arrived at the docks with a dozen Cawanorian soldiers, all of them in ceremonial armour. Alasdair had tasked Cerlina with the duty of welcoming Kanna Sadatake to the city and guiding her to the keep. While this task would normally be beneath someone of her status this guest was someone very special indeed. It wasn’t everyday that Iba Royalty visited Nyhem and Alasdair didn’t want to insult them by sending someone of low importance. Soon the golden dragon sails of Kanna’s ship could be seen making it’s way into port and before long her ship had made dock. Cerlina gestured to the cawanorian soldiers who in unison formed two lines either side of her and stood at attention. Eventually a woman who Cerlina could only assume was Kanna disembarked. She was unusually pale for a Seikatsu native, with dark raven black hair. It was here Cerlina made her move

“Princess Kanna” She said as she approached her, the cawanorian bodyguard following in perfect sync “On behalf of the crown I welcome you to Nyhem, and by extension Formaroth” She continued with a slight curtsy.

As Cerlina spoke, Kanna focused all of her attention on the woman before her. She was an attractive woman, with her pale yellow hair and dark green eyes. A color not typically found in her people. When Cerlina finished Kanna turned her head slightly to her right, where Meredith stood. The other woman's shoulder length brown hair brushed her shoulder as she leaned in to repeat what was said word for word into Kanna's ear, but she had paid Meredith to be more than a translator.

"Before you is Marchioness Cerlina Tuania, she is the Emperor’s head advisor and rules in his absence."

Kanna nodded and thanked her companion before responding in her native tongue to Cerlina. Meredith Translated as Kanna spoke.

"Thank you Cerlina-san for such a prestigious welcome." Kanna bowed in greeting, the soft silks of her clothes whispered as she moved and the haori opened slightly to reveal the ornate kimono she wore underneath. It was mostly black in color, but would transition into red halfway through the long sleeves and body of the kimono. It was decorated with golden lined white cranes, some of which were in flight, others stood in the golden threaded waters that decorated the skirt of the kimono. The obi itself was golden and had a matching wave pattern to the robe-like dress. It was tied in a taiko drum knot, which was her current favorite style. The hiyoku and nagajuban collars that peaked underneath were more simple and only white in color. "You have such a beautiful city, I hope I get to see more of it during my time here."

“I hope your trip here was a pleasant one, I understand the winds between Nyhem and Seikatsu are not always the most favourable” Cerlina said as she gestured for Kanna to follow her. The carriage that Cerlina had used to get to the docks stood behind her. The carriage itself was made of finely crafted oak wood with red silk curtains on both sides to give the occupants privacy.

"The winds appeared to have been on our side for this journey, as the sail here was as pleasant as could be. Hopefully that is a foreshadowing for my visit." Kanna followed Cerlina as she spoke, her wooden shoes clacking against the stone streets of Nyhem. She was mindful of her footing as one wrong step would surely result in a sprained ankle and she was not going to embarrass herself so. Her own personal samurai followed suit, a dark contrast to the soldiers of the foreign king in their black armour and red demon masks. They fell in line with the plated men as their role was carefully discussed on their approach to port and didn't require her instruction.

“Let us hope so” Cerlina replied as she signalled to the carriage driver who opened the door for them. As he did Cerlina stepped inside and took a seat on one side of the carriage. The inside walls of the carriage were covered in green velvet while the wooden seats had an array of different cushions many of which bore the white wolf sigil of house Tuania. Cerlina got herself comfortable as she waited for Kanna to enter.

The young woman took her time climbing into the carriage as her kimono restricted her movements. She took a seat across from Cerlina as her translator took the space next to her and arranged the cushions to her liking. Once comfortable, she crossed and her tucked ankles, her hands were neatly folded on her lap.

Once Kanna had gotten herself comfortable Cerlina gave a tap to the roof of the carriage, signaling the driver to take them back to the keep.

***

Kanna found the carriage ride to be a pleasant experience and managed to have some decent small talk with Cerlina. The ride allowed her to see the side of the keep that was previously blocked from her approach from the ocean. Her earlier assumption appeared to hold true as the keep seemingly had only one main entrance, which was further protected, or hindered depending on one’s point of view, by a drawbridge. As the carriage approached the main gate, she was able to look along the smoothed outer walls of the keep down to the unforgiving waters around it. The wagon rattled along across the bridge, through the gate, and into a main courtyard where Kanna caught the eyes of many guards as she peeked through it’s curtained windows. Some eyes were well trained and impassive, others were curious, and even fewer eyes were scrutinizing, almost as if they waited for an excuse to dismiss her. None of these things mattered to her as she was here to negotiate with their King. She didn’t need their admiration or acceptance.

As the carriage pulled to a stop, the Captain of her guard approached the carriage door. While all her guard were identically dressed, she knew whom it was based solely on his gait. Toshiro-san was very adamant about being the one to assist Kanna in these circumstances. While it was well known that she was fully capable of defending herself, it was their job to guarantee her safety. If any harm would come to her, they would commit honorable suicide and that, she could not allow. Akaiba needed all of her men. As the door opened, she reached out a tender hand towards Toshiro, who took it in his own gloved grip and a slight bow at his waist. Once in his possession, she allowed herself a view of the courtyard they had pulled into. It was definitely different than the ones back home, as the people of Nyhem seemed to care more about perfection rather than the natural flow of a space. Every plant was perfectly groomed to look as identical to the next and while it was weird to her, she couldn’t deny they were beautiful. The stonework of the courtyard was well maintained, from the road slabs at their feet to the high reaching red roofs of the keep.

From here she was guided to the great hall. To say it was spacious, would have been an understatement, with it’s far reaching walls and robust pillars. The men’s footsteps echoed against the white and black marbled floor of the hall, while Kanna’s were muffled by the red carpet she walked on that stretched the length of the room up to the throne that was currently empty. Her dark brown eyes took in the scene before her calmly. They would have to wait for the King to make his entrance.

A short time passed before Alasdair made his entrance into the great hall followed by Lanaya and then Alex. He had purposely waited a few minutes before entering the hall, to make a subtle point that he held higher authority and as such Kanna should wait for an audience with him. He gracefully made his way up the dais to his throne; Cerlina had already taken her place to the side of the throne and had seated herself on a wooden chair placed on a lower step of the dais. Additional chairs had been placed on the dais for the other high council members. Alex took his seat nervously, this had been the first time he had sat so high on dais; normally he found himself on the bottom step and now there was much more attention focused on him. Lanaya had already perched elegantly on the seat allocated to her, casting an appraising, piercing gaze across the Akaiba princess and her guard. Two servants who until now had been standing on one side of the hall picked up a chair and brought it over to Kanna. The chair itself wasn’t ugly by any means but bore much less beauty than the chairs of the high councilors and drastically less so than the throne Alasdair sat in. Another subtle nudge from Alasdair to make sure Kanna knew who was the true royal in this room. Alasdair waited until everyone had been seated before finally speaking.

“Welcome to Nyhem Princess Kanna” Alasdair said with a polite smile “It is quite a journey from Akaiba to Nyhem, I trust their must be great importance behind your visit for Shogun Ayeka’s to send his own flesh and blood to me”?

Kanna maintained an exterior demeanor of polite calm, while internally she was annoyed. The power play was not new to Kanna, as many in seats of power at home tried to play the same game, especially within the walls of their own estates. But the gesture was unnecessary as Kanna was in a vulnerable position in this forgein land and she did not need to be reminded of it. As the scene played before her, Meredith took the time to introduce each person to her as well as noted the absence of two members of the high council. Either they were away or did not deem her arrival to be important for them to meet with her. Regardless, she had all she needed in this room.

Returning his smile with one of her own, Kanna bowed towards Alasdair and his council as was customary for her people, causing her black hair to shift slightly forward as it was pulled back in a loose, but elegant ponytail. "Thank you for such a gracious welcome to your city Emperor Alasdair-sama. I am honored that you would allow Cerlina-san to greet me and my party at the docks and serve as my escort to the castle." Kanna paused, allowing Meredith to finish translating her words to her audience before continuing. "Indeed it was a long journey from Akaiba and I would not have taken it myself unless both my father and I deemed it absolutely necessary as there is much to be done back home.”

Alasdair tilted his head slightly before replying.
"And what matters of Akaiba might concern the Lords of Formaroth"?

While still maintaining her demeanor, she allowed herself to fix him with a sharper gaze. ”Are you aware of the movements of the Imperium?”

Alasdair paused for a moment as he dreaded what Kanna was about to say next. Ever since the Beilokias trade ships had stopped coming to Formaroth, Alasdair had been unable to get word from the spies he had implanted in the imperium. But he knew that whatever reason the imperium had for suddenly cutting off trade was unlikely to be good for Formaroth.

“Ever since the imperium suddenly cut off trade with us I have heard little of what the imperium has been planning, I trust you bring new information”?

Kanna carefully watched Alasdair’s face as she spoke. There seemed to already be apprehension in his features.”The Imperium intend to sail against Seikatsu with an invasion force of at least 800,000 men, possibly more.”

Alasdair remained silent. He knew this would inevitably happen. He had warned John when he was on the throne and yet he dismissed the threat. He had warned Helyot before him who had only laughed in his face. He had warned Andris and the other high nobles when they had met to debate the next ruler of Formaroth that dividing the kingdom in a civil war would encourage the imperium to invade. For years he had been aware of the threat the elves possessed and no one had listened. Part of him felt bitter about it, another smug that he finally proved everyone else wrong, but most of him felt fear. Formaroth was now too weak to repel the imperium and if Seikatsu fell Formaroth would soon be next.

“Knowing the imperium, it probably will be more” Alasdair replied with a half smile that could have meant anything.

“This is extremely concerning.” Lana said, keeping her voice free of fear but letting her tone convey how seriously she took the warning. “Consider how many capable mages will be among their ranks as well.” Then, addressing Kanna specifically, she asked. “What will Seikatsu do about this? Is your land united enough to hold?”

"What will Seikatsu do? What else is there to do when an enemy comes knocking at your door? You either fight… or you die." Kanna moved her hands that were resting comfortably on the arms of her chair to fold them in her lap. It wasn’t a nervous gesture, but an anticipatory one. "Both my father and brother are working to unite Seikatsu against this threat.”

“Uniting Seikatsu to save it, a most noble and difficult task, as I am sure you have already discovered” Alasdair replied with a smile, while he was shaken by the announcement of the imperium’s invasion he wasn’t going to let it show “So tell me if your efforts are focused on uniting Seikatsu what brings you here to formaroth?” Alasdair was pretty sure he already knew the answer.

"I sit here before you when a messenger could have easily taken my place, bringing with me the hope and trust of my people, to ask for aid against the imperial might that threatens to crash against our shores." Kanna's features softened before she spoke her next words, letting the unease and pressure she felt show. "I have come so that you may take this threat seriously and understand the lengths I am going through to come before foreign monarchs, on foreign land, to ask for alliance against an enemy that may very well end us all…"

“I suppose the situation must be dire if the emperor of Akaiba is desperate enough to seek help from Formaroth” Alasdair replied, hinting at the way that many residents of the Iba kingdoms looked down upon the western human nations “Still, you are aware Fomaroth has only just begun recovering from the civil war that the usurper Andris Manadarass started. The realm remains split and many kingdoms are in a state of rebellion. If I were to divert troops to Seikatsu what would stop my rival here from invading my lands the moment my forces left”?

”I was not, but may I first ask, if you do not assist us, will you be able to stop a war on two fronts? While I cannot guarantee your enemies won’t take advantage of your absence should they choose not to unite before a bigger threat, I can guarantee our forces should you need to reclaim what is yours.”

Alasdair paused for a minute, it was true that the imperium threat needed to be dealt with. As much as he wanted to wipe house Blackwell from the face of the earth his vendetta against them would have to wait. All the same he would do his best to take advantage of this situation “Your offer to retake stolen land is an appreciated one, and one I will hold you to, however if I am being asked to send my men to Seikatsu while Formaroth is still in turmoil I expect something in return. What can Akaiba offer Formaroth in exchange for our assistance”?

"What would you desire from Akaiba? I can offer our military strength, negotiate more favorable trade, and exchange knowledge of magical arts. I am head of the healing order and our people are knowledgeable in many schools. So long as it is reasonable, I can offer nearly anything."

Alasdair turned to his side as he consulted with Cerlina who in return offered her own advice. Once he had finished he turned back to face Kanna. “If we provide you with military assistance then that is what we expect in return. After the imperium threat has been dealt with there is no doubt that the chaos that has befallen Formaroth will continue. The samurai of Seikatsu will certainly be of great assistance in aiding our efforts in stabilizing the realm”.

“The Mages Circle will send battlemages to aid Seikatsu as well.” Lana began, her voice proud and confident. “But in return, we will expect the Runelords to accept our offer of an academic position on the faculty of the Circle. It is past time that the human realms shared our arcane knowledge with each other.”

”I am agreeable to both of these terms and will make sure they are upheld." Kanna spoke with conviction. On her honor as a samurai, Madoushi, and a noblewoman, if she had to come herself to collect the heads of their enemies, she would. She would make sure her father and brother understood these terms, as they were the price of Akaiba’s continued existence in this world and she would not be forsworn.

Alasdair once again mumbled to Cerlina, he didn't actually have anything to say for he had already made up his mind, he just wanted to make Kanna feel as if he was more hesitant to accept these terms than he actually was. The more reluctant he seemed with these terms, the more likely he could pressure for a better deal later.

"Very well Lady Kanna, these terms seem acceptable for now. Please allow me a few days to finalise this deal with my advisors. You are welcome to remain here in the keep until then".

"Will I be required to remain at the keep for finalization or can I return to assist my people with preparations?"

"Alas you must remain here, else if changes are made before the pact is written we will have no one to negotiate with" Alasdair said with a smile "but do not feel I hold you against your will. Please take this time to explore Nyhem, hopefully the beauty of our capital will help take your mind off the dread you must be feeling for your homeland".

”I understand. In the meantime, I will send a messenger hawk back to my father to bring him up to speed.” Kanna stood, removing her haori as she did so not because she was hot, but because in order to give respect to another custom required it. She removed her sandals before she walked a few steps forward from her chair down the plush carpet until she was far away enough from the chair for her purposes. While her hands neatly smoothed her kimono, she knelt in one fluid motion, her knees touching the ground at the same time. The tops of her feet laid flat on the floor, pointed straight back, and her backside rested on her heels. She sat with a straight posture and placed her hands face down on her thighs, her arms relaxed at her side. She could sit this way for hours if she needed to. Kanna did not notice if the guard had moved during this time as her focus was all on the people before her. ”On behalf of my country and my people, Thank you.” As she spoke, she bent forward, her back completely straight as she did so and her hands moved forward at the same time, the right leading the left to rest cupped on the ground about 7cm in front of her forming a narrow wedge with the tips of her forefingers touching. She bent slowly until her face was about 5cm from the floor, her chest touched the tops of her thighs and she kept her arms in close with her forearms touching the outside of her knees. It was all done in one practiced fluid motion and was a bow of the utmost respect her people gave. She held this bow for a few seconds before returning to the seated position.

Alasdair felt a great deal of satisfaction as he watched Kanna bow before him. After serving royalty for most of his life it gave him great joy to see them bow before him.

"You may stand princess Kanna" Alasdair replied "we will send for you when we need you again"

Kanna stood and looked upon the western ruler before returning to her shoes and departing with her men. He seemed fairly pleased, but she hoped he would understand the meaning of her bow, rather than have it something to be expected moving forward. Only time would tell which would hold true. Gathering the samurai, she departed the throne room and returned to the courtyard. She had a message to send back to her father.

---

General Hycis felt his chest swell with pride as he stared over the field of victory. The Keraaman army had been smashed, utterly broken and torn to pieces. The survivors, what few of them there were, seemed in shock as elves roughly roped their hands behind their backs and dragged them to the rapidly growing slave lines. Hycis stood to make a fine profit from this campaign. All that needed doing now was to fall upon the Drai rear and he would complete this campaign as a hero.

His hand absentmindedly rubbed the warm leather of his saddle while the other twirled a small silver ring about his finger, a gift from his wife. They had parted nearly six months before on the doorstep of their estate, her in tears, him telling her to be brave. Four of their five sons had ridden with him and now served on his personal staff. Each of them would gain glory in this campaign and, with luck, he would be able to secure them a handsome wedding match. Maybe General Neldor would even allow one of his daughters to marry Hycis's eldest son. Now that would be a match! A step closer to an Imperial title, perhaps even a Governorship. Possibilities flooded through his mind and he wished his wife were here to discuss it all with. She was much better at the game of politics than he was.

He was so lost in this dream of victory and reward that he failed to hear the first of the shouts and screams from the west. They began as a murmur, growing slowly in volume. His staff, riding alongside him, began to turn one by one to look into the battlefield haze. It was certainly not the sound of a victorious army. No, the screams were of folk dying. One of his aide de camps roughly shook him, snapping him out of his reverie. The shouts were intermixed with the sound of steel on steel and his head snapped around - squinting as he peered westward.

A swirling dust cloud still covered much of the battlefield and Hycis could make out nothing other than dark shapes moving quickly across the battlefield. A huge cheer went up and he thought he saw something large fall in the distance. What the devil was going on? The screaming was growing in savage intensity and he felt a chill run through his body. The leather of his saddle, so warm a moment ago, suddenly seemed rigid and tough beneath his legs. His heart began to pound with a familiar sense of fear.

A rider burst out of the dust cloud, flogging his Meehan toward Hycis, the creatures flanks running with blood as the spurs cut deeply into the hide. Hycis frowned. He did not approve of needlessly injuring a mount, especially after the battle was over. Why that seemed important in the face of all the unknowns he faced, he did not know. But that was battle. The strangest thoughts would pop into an elfs head in the face of death.

“My lord General!” The elf skidded to a stop, his exhausted mount almost collapsing, one big horn banging off the ground with a loud crack. “My lord general,” The elf gasped again. “The Iba… They’re attacking!”

“Attacking who?” Hycis was confused. The Iba, for all their supply problems and late arrival to the battle, had at least finally shown up, even if it had been to late to take part in the fighting. The mere appearance of their army had caused the fight to go out of the Keraamen. Maybe they had hidden more troops in the low ground? Was it possible the Drai had marched to support their ally.

“Us!” The soldier almost screamed the word at his general. That brought instant silence to the calmouring staff members who had been eagerly hurrying after their general with in the hopes of watching the Iba in action. The Imperium was well aware who the powerhouse in Seikatsu was and the fighting quality of the Samurai were legendary.

“But… Shit!” Hycis kicked his mount forward, the trail of aide-de-camps hurrying after him as he rode toward the dust. “What else?” He demanded of the exhausted soldier who hurried in his wake.

“They killed the giant and slaughtered our remaining Avem as they were resting. I rode to warn you before I saw anymore.”

Hycis looked about him frantically. His army was scattered across several acres of battlefield, plundering the dead and making slaves of the living. They would be slaughtered if they did not regroup and immediately “Sound the muster, hurry!”

A bugler turned away from the column and began to blow on the black horn he carried at his belt. All across the battlefield elven soldiers dropped what they were doing and hurried toward their respective units, still marked by banners that drooped in the suddenly windless air. There was little urgency to their movements. They were tired, many of them wounded. It had been a hard fight and only the actual collapse of the Keraamani lines had allowed them to carry the day. Otherwise it had been something of a slug fest, the infantry pushing against each other as arrows and spells filled the air above their heads. Another horn mimicked the cry, and then another, until the battlefield rang with the desperate notes.

As if in answer, another horn sounded, this one deeper and more ominous, and it came from the north. There was supposed to be nothing but mountains to the north. Hycis, closing swiftly on the dust cloud, pulled up short as took in the source of this new challenge. The chill in his body turned to a cold sweat.

Blocks of soldiers were moving out of mountains that his Iban scouts had told him were impassable. He didn’t need any riders or an eyeglass to make out the red armour to know that he had been betrayed. Beside him his youngest son swore quietly to himself and Hycis made brief eye contact with him. He could see his own fear mirrored in the dark eyes.

Scattered elves, still not understanding their predicament, hurried toward their one time allies and died, their screams for mercy falling on deaf ears. Hycis felt bile rise in his throat as arrows slashed into the confused elven soldiers. The Iba spared no one, not even the wounded, as they advanced onto the already blood drenched battlefield. Elves, who moments before, had thought themselves victors, now thrashed and died in the mud beneath Iban spears.

The wind, slack and unhelpful until that moment, suddenly curled across the battlefield and with it the crackling energy of magic. Hycis swore. Someone had been holding back the breeze to cloak whatever was happening beyond the dust cloud but now they wanted him to know, and to fear.

What met his eyes paralyzed him. The Western road, supposedly his escape to a friendly nation, was covered in enemy troops. Like a great column of ants the enemy marched against his rear. His best troops, held back until the end, rested there. Most of them, their clothing soaked with sweat, hair plastered to their foreheads, had stripped off their armour and began to dip their feet in a small stream. Now everywhere he looked elves were dying. In one and twos, in dozens, and in hundreds, they were being butchered like cattle by men they had thought were their allies.

“Father…” His eldest son caught his attention and motioned to the east, toward Keraam. Cavalry moved across the landscape now and there was no mistaking the helmets and battle flags of the Iban Shogunate. They rode knee to knee and gave a mighty cheer as their lances lowered and they spurred onto the field. The elven cavalry, for the most part, were dismounted and relaxing after finishing their pursuit of the Keraamani survivors. Now they were simply run over by the Iban horse. A few elves, desperate few, managed to remount and fight their way free of the surging mass of enemy cavalry. Hycis felt a small surge of joy as he spotted two of his other sons managing to ride clear. The rest died.

“He fucking played us…” Hycis said in a voice of mixed awe and hatred. Sadatake Ayeka, Shogun and friend of the elves, had utterly played him for a fool. Hycis shook his head as if trying to clear it of the vision before him. But when he opened his eyes it seemed even worse than before. An explosion somewhere nearby made the earth rattle.

“Rally the army! Rally on me! We will try to fight our way out of this trap!” Horns screamed again elves begin to spring toward their general. A sense of urgency was at last beginning to take hold as the earth shook beneath the hooves of oncoming cavalry. Prisoners, abandoned now, began to free themselves and, in some cases, savagely attack the fleeing elves. Chaos reined across the battlefield and all Hycis could do now was hope, and pray.

---

General Hycis slumped in his saddle, his body jolting with every staggering step his mount took as they hurried southward. All around him, everything but their weapons abandoned, stumbled remnants of his once proud army. Their uniforms were dirty and torn, much of their armour was missing, and nearly all were wounded. A far cry from the mighty force that had landed a mere three weeks before on the coast of Noiba with banners flying and trumpets baying.

Hycis himself was wounded, half his face covered in a bloodied bandage that itched something fierce. An arrow had slashed down the left side, nearly taking his eye, and slicing off the bottom of his ear. A mage priest had done his best to staunch the bleeding by binding the wound and applying a healing spell, but he had refused any further help, insisting that the more gravelly wounded receive proper treatment. The bandage and charm had done much to staunch the bleeding but did nothing for the searing headache and itch that never seemed to diminish. Even now, he wanted to scratch it the itch, to pick at the forming scab, but restrained himself, it would do no good and the mage priest had warned him of possible infection.

The narrow track his army now retreated down was one of two, both little more than cart tracks that led toward the sea. He had seen the remains of several small villages and suspected that this part of Noiba had been largely abandoned during the previous war. Little more than foundations remained now, maybe a broken fountain to hint at a town square. Of the wood and paper houses so famous among the Iba, there was no sign. Only once did they come upon a stone structure, a small castle with one entire wall gaping whose gatehouse stood empty, the gateway and upper arrow slits making it look like some monstrous head half covered in green ivy.

He felt tears prick the corner of his eye as he thought about what had occurred. The Iban had stolen the march on him, arriving rested and ready when his elves were exhausted and bloodied. Only the determined and spirited rearguard action of the remaining elven cavalry had kept the Iba from completely rolling over the survivors. That rearguard was led by his eldest son. The two has clasped arms before the cavalry rode away, pledging to meet again at the main army. Both men knew it was a façade. They would be lucky if any of them returned home.

Camp followers mixed with the retreating soldiers. Blacksmiths, cooks, laundry folk, the families and his soldiers, all of them pushing south through the thick forest in hopes of reaching the sea, and so too the navy. Younglings were among the crowd, some crying, some to tired to cry, others simply lying down at the side of the roadway despite their parents pleas to continue. Those who did not move under their own power were left for the advancing Iba. Hycis was under no illusions. The Iba would not be taking prisoners.

A sudden cheer and the sound of steel echoed through the trees and the crowd surged forward, eager to escape the pursuing enemy. Screams, shouts, and cries for help seemed to come from everywhere as small parties of Iban troops slipped through the wood and ambushed the column at every opportunity. They largely left Hycis alone, his bodyguard was well armed and relatively fresh. The light troops who stalked them now chose to attack easier targets.

Hycis turned his head wearily to watch as an elven soldier, his hand severed at the wrist, struggled to tie off the stump with a belt. He made eye contact with his General and offered a solemn nod as he took the belt between his teeth to pull it tight. Hycis wanted to go to the soldier, offer him his aid, but knew it was pointless, there was nothing he could offer the soldier. The elf was going to die. He knew it, and the General knew it, it was only a matter of time.

“Samurai!” The cry came from close at hand and Hycis sat up in his saddle, dragging his blood crusted sword free as he wheeled to face the cry. A small group of the red armoured enemy crashed out of the wood on foot, their battle cry “Ibaaa!” ringing in his ears as they fell upon a unit of elven infantry.

The skirmish was short and vicious. The samurai retreated into the wood before Hycis and his bodyguard could mount a proper charge, leaving a scattering of dead elves with twice as many wounded. The enemy didn’t lose a man. It was a pattern that had repeated itself a hundred times in the past twenty four hours as the elves pushed south. They were permitted no sleep, no rest, not even the time to take a piss. If you stopped, you died. Archers stalked the column at every turn and anyone who halted made an inviting target.

“Father.” The gentle voice of his eldest surviving son. A canteen was being held out to him and he gratefully took it, swallowing down the lukewarm water without complaint. This at least they had plenty of. Seikatsu was a land of endless streams and small brooks that an elf could use to refill his canteen. A small mercy he supposed.

“Thank you.” Hycis passed the container back after splashing some on his face. An aide was dispatched to find more water further up the track. He too was exhausted but to stop was to die.

“Samurai!” The cry again and this time the enemy came to close. They burst from the trees to charge into a small knot of heavy infantry. A close quarters fight began in earnest and Hycis saw an opportunity for some small revenge.

His sword was still drawn and he raised the point even as he urged his tired mount forward. The beast tossed its head but managed to lumber into a quick trot. He felt his lips peel back from his teeth like some feral beast as he gave a formless scream and charged.

A samurai looked up just as Hycis’s mount caught him under the chin with one huge horn, tossing the human like a ragdoll into the wood. Another Iban rolled desperately away before lunging to his feet and straight into Hycis’s sword thrust. The blade smashed the faceplate of his helmet and split his upper lip all the way down his jaw bone. Hycis had a startling view of a pale face, black hair plastered to the forehead with sweat, eyes bulging wide even as the man opened his mouth to scream. He vanished beneath the hooves of the bodyguard before a sound could come out.

Hycis was through the skirmish in an instant and he pulled savagely on his reins, trying to turn his mount for another charge, but the fight was over. The small party of samurai had been slaughtered. A moment of joy in the falling darkness as his men cheered their small victory. It was something. But it was not enough. It would never be enough. For them, it was to late.

He was thirsty again and looked around for the elf sent to fetch him more water. It took him a moment to find the soldier and when he did, the small joy he felt left him. The elfs body lay half submerged in a nearby stream, a spear sticking up from his back like the mast of a ship. The generals canteen lay in the bloodied water nearby, slowly filling with the reddish liquid. He didn’t have the energy to even curse. He turned and rode away.

It did not take long for darkness to begin to close in. As the sun dropped below the horizon the air instantly began to cool. A small price to pay for the shadows that spread across the land. The Iba did not come in the darkness. No commander with any experience was going to send small units of men to wander around the forest in the dark.

The pursuit, however, did not end. All the Iba had to do was follow the trail of dead and dying elves that had simply given up. From time to time furious clashes would erupt between the elven rearguard and the Iban vanguard. It was savage close quarter fighting, illuminated by the occasional torch or spell that lit up the heaving black masses of men and elves. It was as though the bowels of hell disgorged the damned. Those who would survive that terrible flight through the woods would never cease to dream of it, waking in cold sweats during the deepest darkness.

Hycis saw little of it from his position near the head of the column. The elves had better night vision than their human enemies but a bright moon broke through the cloud to cover the landscape in a pale glow. Even so, the Iban attacks were cautious and only in great strength, as they probed forward. The darkness was no friend to anyone and more than a few soldiers were killed by their own side in the confusion.

For those elves able to move under their own power, the darkness was a blessing in disguise. They could see well enough to move with confidence along the narrow tracks and so a small distance eventually grew between the main body of the elves and that of the enemy. Those who could not walk any further were left behind. Hycis did not need to see what happened to know they would be killed when the Iban found them.

He wept in the darkness, his tears hidden from his soldiers and surviving sons by the veil of night. High General Neldor had entrusted Hycis with the best troops he could provide, and the best officers he had at hand. It had been a gamble and both elves knew it. The dice had come up against them. He ground his teeth even as he cuffed the tears from his cheeks. If he escaped, he would crush the Iba and leave none alive.

Perhaps it was that anger that sustained him through the cold of the night, wrapped only in his cloak and blood caked armour. What little food that remained was doled out among the bodyguard, Hycis insisting his soldiers eat before him. Their gratitude was pathetic to behold but he could not help but smile to himself. With such soldiers, he might have conquered the world.

The very first glimmer of pink on the horizon brought with it a new breeze tinged with the smell of salt. Hycis felt his heart surge. The sea! The exhausted refugees around him smelt it as well and their footsteps became more confident and they hurried forward. If they could make the coast, they might be able to march east to their ships. He did not think they were far. The coast in this region was one huge white sand expanse, it would not be hard to escape now.

The trees around him began to change now. They were getting shorter, more windswept, proof that the sea was not far away now. The dirt beneath his mounts hooves gradually turned from to sand and the moss of the forest to scrub grass. The cry of gulls and the thunder of waves upon the beach carried to him with the wind.

He paused, listening for any sound of pursuit. Silence, or the type of silence one could expect from thousands of shuffling feet. But there were no screams, no shouts, no clash of steel. Perhaps the Iban had turned back, or at least waited out the night. It had bought him some time. Perhaps enough to save this tiny remnant of his army.

“Make way for the General!” The shout preceded him as he rode through the throng toward the sea. The tired survivors parted willingly and he felt himself lighten with joy as the blue ocean at last replaced the endless forest.

White sand stretched out on either side of him as far as he could see and swarms of birds dove and darted above him. At first he thought that the beach was covered in small black rocks, some larger boulders beyond, and that puzzled him for he did not recall any such beach when they had sailed past here a few weeks before. Perhaps this was a deep bay he had not seen?

Then, with growing horror, he realized that the rocks on the beach were bodies and the black shapes out to sea were ships, great ships whose hulls jerked and shook beneath the waves that hammered them against the sand bars. A few broken masts rose from the water here and there, the ragged remains of sails flapping uselessly in the breeze. He recognized the shape of the hulls, the deep keels and long swept back sterns. He would never forget them.
He dropped from his mount, his thighs so chaffed her could barely walk, as he staggered down to the waters edge. A groan of despair escaped his lips. The dead who bobbed and jerked with the oncoming waves like grotesque marionettes were elves. Thousands of them, as far as he could see in every direction, the white sand covered in the lifeless shapes of the dead. It took him a moment to realize that some were humans, but they were few, so very few. He wanted to ask how. He wanted to scream, to kick his feet, to tear his hair.

An elf nearby was staring at the sky with a look of surprise on his face. A flatbow bolt stood had taken him under the chin, cutting his helmet strap in the process. The blue features were bloating already, soon he wouldn’t look much like an elf at all. Hycis, his hands in the sand, tears running down his face, finally looked up and out to see. Ships were rounding the headland, low ships driven by oars, and above them, snapping in the wind, were the red dragons of Akaiba. He had found the sea and it belonged to the enemy. He was trapped.

Alasdair was walking through the keep’s garden’s contemplating the past couple months. The once green and colourful gardens were now cold and dead with the only greenery being the short frost covered grass. At the very least the sound and smell of the sea, that were only separated from the gardens by a stone wall, helped soothe Alasdair’s nerves. Things had gone from bad to worse. The Blackwells were getting more powerful by the day, Uzgob in open rebellion, Lanaya’s confession, the south becoming influenced by the teachings of this Rhodanthe and now the imperium was finally making their move after four hundred years. There was also the issue Katriana and what he should do with her. The logical solution would be to have her killed as soon as possible. But Alasdair already knew he wouldn’t be able to bring himself to do it to her. If he kept her safely in the keep then people would become suspicious of her identity and discover the truth. After his meeting with her he had sent a message to Claus, ordering him to keep her out of harm's way only to immediately realized his mistake the day after. Claus would now likely be questioning why Alasdair cared so much for this peasant girl and might even make inquiries. To think that, against all odds, that the bastard daughter of Helyot Remonnet would unknowing and by completely accident cross paths with him. Had she been some random bastard Alasdair would have had her killed there and then. But she wasn’t, she was Anna’s daughter, the only thing of her that still existed in this world. Yet she was also the rightful heir to the throne, the only heir to the throne and the greatest threat to Alasdair’s claim. Alasdair never believed in the gods, but if they did exist they truly had a cruel sense of humour. Alasdair was distracted from his thoughts by the sound of shouting coming from deeper into the garden. The sounds sounded like that of two people having a sparring match, one a woman’s voice and another man's. Alasdair gave a signal to two steel fist guardsmen who stood a dozen meters away, Immediately they rushed to his side without hesitation. Alasdair had to admit he felt a lot safer with them guarding the castle than he ever did with the previous keep’s guardsmen. With his guards following closely behind him Alasdair made his way towards the sound of the shouting. What he found was most surprising; Lady Kanna sparing against one of her guards. The guard himself was particularly focused on maintaining his defence while Kanna, dressed in a kimono and hakama, was delivering swift and precise strikes against her opponent in order to break through. Alasdair decided to watch from a distance, curious to see not only to see how long it would take for her to notice him, but also if he could learn anything about the lady Kanna through observing the way she fought.

The Akaiban noblewoman pushed into her opponents space, her practice sword striking against her opponents filling the garden with the sounds of their match. All of her guard were experienced and talented samurai, so the match was more of a test of her skill than theirs. Only a handful of the men were dressed for practice, the others were in full armour and had true weapons strapped to their sides. Were they at home, the whole unit could have participated, but on foreign soil within foreign walls, they couldn’t cripple themselves just to spar. Those on duty noticed Alasdair’s approach, but Kanna and her opponent did not. No one would disrupt the match and if either participant were to split their attention, it would be over. Kanna pressed Inoue, all but one of her strikes sliding off his sword. The last one felt... wrong and that was the moment he was looking for. Some mistake in her rhythm or form that would give him the opening he needed to parry or disarm her and his patience paid off. He struck her sword as her arms came down, causing her arm to bounce back from the impact, exposing her chest for him to strike that would result in his victory.
As he thrusted forward, she stepped backwards commanding her body to follow the momentum of her arms back, giving her enough room to regain her form. It was her turn to be on the defensive. Inoue’s strikes were relentless. It wasn’t long before the jarring impact of his wooden sword against hers was too much for her body to handle causing her grip on her weapon to fail. It flew from her hands and she had moments to react to his next strike.He thrusted his sword forward again to land a strike on her chest, but she stepped into it, turning her body so that their opposite arms were parallel to each other. She grabbed his wrist and pulled it back in a small circle, pulling the rest of his body with him and causing him to fall to the ground, his sword was sent flying across the turf. Using her other hand, she took control of his arm, locking his elbow and pushing his shoulder blade into the ground while the hand that controlled the wrist to help drive his limb downward. If he moved she could break his arm. It was at this moment Toshiro, the Captain of her guard, spoke.

“Kanna-sama, we have a royal audience.”

His words snapped her out of the fight and caused her to look up at him. He nodded his head towards something behind her and she turned her head to see what he was referring to. Her dark brown eyes caught Alasdair’s and she immediately released her grip on Inoue. The man got up easily, rotating his shoulder and wristing as he stood. Bowing towards Kanna, he thanked her for the match, though breathing heavily. “I am honored to have been your opponent, Kanna-sama.”

”The honor is mine, Inoue-san.” She said, turning back to him with a soft smile and a short bow, she worked to catch her own breath. ”I obviously have much more to learn.” Turning back to the captain she asked for the whereabouts of her translator. She hadn’t seen where the brown haired woman had went to once morning practice started and Kanna hoped she didn’t run off too far. Toshiro motioned towards a bench at the edge of the clearing where Meredith must have taken a seat, but she was already walking halfway to where they stood at a brisk pace.

Once the Nyhem native woman reached the pair, she bowed and spoke quickly,”My apologies Kanna-sama, I came as soon as I noticed the situation. Would you like to speak with him?”

Dusting her clothes, Kanna replied, ”Yes, let us head over now as we’ve already wasted enough time.”

Bowing again towards Kanna, Meredith lead them to where Alasdair stood. Meredith curtsied as Kanna bowed in greeting to their host.

”My apologies if we disturbed your walk, your majesty.”

“Not at all, if anything you have only served to make it more entertaining. It is most interesting to see a daughter of Akaiba partake in battle. I thought Iba women joining the military was frowned upon? Even here in Formaroth it is certainly uncommon, outside of the church anyway”.

"Indeed, my father was not particularly thrilled when I expressed interest, but once I showed I had an affinity for it, he became less opposed."

"And how does the emperor of Akaiba fare these days. From what I gather his opinions on Formaroth are apathetic at best" Alasdair replied.

"When I saw him last, he was of sound body and mind, so I would assume that still holds true. As for my father's opinion on foreign nations, I cannot speak on it as I do not know them."

"His previous interactions with Formaroth haven't been the friendliness, hence my surprise when I learnt he had asked for support from us, even under the circumstances"

"Would you not have done the same were the roles reversed?"

"Perhaps, but I'm not a samurai am I" Alasdair smirked "at the very least this invasion will finally wake up the formarothian nobles into realising just how dangerous the imperium is. Had they invaded sooner then perhaps the realm wouldn't of fractured apart. Though with a man as stubborn as Andris, who knows".

"Protecting a country and its people is the sole responsibility of those who run it. It does not matter if you are Samurai or not."

“A most noble sentiment” Alasdair responded in a voice that could have been either genuine or mocking “It is a shame, to many rulers are so prideful that they refuse to do what is necessary for fear of hurting their precious honour”.

Kanna took a moment before answering to gather her thoughts. She wasn't sure of his intentions and it made her wary. "And what is your position on the matter? Would you do what is necessary?"

"Of course" Alasdair said with a cunning smile "Those who are willing to do whatever is necessary to win are the ones who survive. Those who proceed to strangle themselves with codes of honour and chivalry are destined to fail. A simple yet undeniable truth”.

"I wouldn't go as far as to say that." the conversation wasn't exactly what Kanna was expecting and she definitely did not wish to spoil the aid she came to retrieve with a discussion over the importance of honor and being a person of worth. Now that she wasn't moving anymore, the crisp breeze that was previously soothing to her warm skin was now freezing and cut through her clothes like a blade. She was not dressed to stand in the cold. Kanna rubbed her arms for heat as she spoke. "May we continue this conversation inside or do you have other commitments to attend to?"

“I have nothing pressing as of now, let us continue this conversation inside. Walk with me”. He said as he said as he gestured his hand to his side.

Before she followed his lead, she turned to her captain who was standing behind her left shoulder. "The men can choose to either continue to practice or clean up and meet with us indoors. Whether by your decision or theirs those are the two options."

She didn't feel the need for the guard to be at full force with her, but she respected their sense of duty and so, offered them a choice. She also didn't wait to see what the captain decided as he simply bowed at her instructions and left. Turning back to Alasdair she offered him a soft smile and a slight bow of her head. "By your leave."

Alasdair led Kanna through the gardens towards the arched doorway that led back into the keep, the steel fist guards keeping a respectable distance behind them. Kanna was something of an enigma to Alasdair; she held herself up as a warrior rather than a diplomat, yet had more grace and decorum than most of the ambassadors in his service. “While the open air helps me think I must confess in this weather there is only so much I can bear before the chill becomes too much for me”.

"Back home there are monks who will spend a hundred days in the middle of winter with little food and mostly without a source of heat. These one hundred days are spent in silence, meditation, and performing cold water purification rituals." Kanna spoke as one would when giving a presentation but when she spoke next, it was in a more playful tone. She turned her face up to him. "So I like to tell myself,''At least I am not them” on days like this. It makes it a little easier to bear."

“Most intriguing, though it makes one wonder how many survive such an ordeal” Alasdair replied “Or for what purpose these men decide to it suffer for”

"It is not for the faint of heart and many who think they can pass the ordeal fail. It is a spiritual practice and those who manage to complete the ceremony are highly respected."

"There are easier ways to earn respect" Alasdair replied "Your own family for example, have garnered respect from across all of Seikatsu. Even here in Formaroth we have heard the fame of house Sadatake and their prowess for combat, statecraft and magical bloodlines. A great reputation, that did not require anyone to freeze themselves to death in order to obtain it".

"There are easier ways, but as I said, it is more a spiritual journey than one for the sole purpose of gaining popularity. Most monks do not care for the respect it gives as they generally live more simpler, self-less lives. But you honor me with your praise of my family's achievements." Kanna slightly bowed her head towards Alasdair as she spoke. It is argued that her family had divine right to the roles that they lead and that belief has garnered a lot of leeway with other officials across the country. "Have you ever visited Seikatsu?"

“I have never had the pleasure. My duties as the head advisor and now as emperor means I rarely leave Sypius. When I do it is usually only to visit my homeland of Cawanor”.

”That is unfortunate.” she replied. Kanna wasn’t sure if her father would agree to having the foreign monarch visit but maybe if their armies helped to repel the invasion, she could formulate a strong argument.”Would you ever want to see it?”

“I’m always willing to visit new and interesting places, though my duty as emperor is for life. I expect I will spend the majority of my life here in this keep, such is the burden of a dedicated ruler” Alasdair decided to turn the questioning towards Kanna “How about yourself? I imagine as princess of Akaiba you find little time to travel to other kingdoms”?

"This is the first time I have ever had a desire to leave the country. My brother had more wanderlust…" Here she paused, plagued by the shadows of her twin's past. Anger and pain flared through her causing her to take a moment to gain control of her voice before continuing. "I am normally very busy traveling the country under the direction of my father."

Alasdair decided against asking about her brother. He had read reports about his mistreatment at the hands of elven pirates before she had arrived. He imagined it would be in poor taste to talk about him. “I see, though I am sure if you ever wished to explore the world you would be able to?” Alasdair questioned, trying to get a better idea of just how free Kanna truly was in her own kingdom.

"I'm sure I would have an easier time than most if I had wanted to travel, but I am much needed at home." she replied. "Though, I am intrigued by the culture and would be interested in learning more if time allowed it." Kanna was not sure if she would ever walk these shores again, but she believed it was a possibility if things were to work smoothly in the future.

“Providing we are not all destroyed by the imperium, I trust this will be the start of a great alliance between our people. For too long had Formaroth kept to it’s own borders, it is time we finally took our place in the wider world, as a nation worthy of both fear and respect. One that both the imperium and sovereignty will have to acknowledge”.

”One step at a time.” Kanna stated. She wasn’t one to get too ahead of herself and liked to deal with situations in a systematic order. She hadn’t realized how long they were walking for, as their conversation was going better than anticipated and the young woman wasn’t sure where they were going. With this break in conversation, Kanna had a moment to appreciate the ornate decorations that filled the foreign monarch’s home and she decided that while it spoke of great skill, she wasn’t a fan of the cornucopia of colors and patterns. It was simply overwhelming for Kanna and she must have looked so plain and out of place. The thought brought nearly brought a small smile to her face, but she managed to maintain her composure before speaking again. ”May I ask where we are headed?”

"Just through here" Alasdair said as they turned left into a barren corridor with naught but candlesticks decorating the walls. At the end was a steel door guarded by two steel fist guards, who upon seeing their emperor approach stood at attention before one of them quickly unlocked the door. Before Alasdair even reached the door it had been opened for him allowing him and Kanna to enter the room without having to slow pace. The room was the crowns relic vault, where the Remmonnet's had kept all their most valued treasures. The room was filled with many items of legend, on one wall hung the sword of queen Ysabelle still shiny and sharp as if it were freshly forged. It was one of the few royal dwarven steel swords that wasn't buried with its owner. In a glass display cabinet lay the golden crown of king Adeland adorned with emeralds and rubies. A suit of armour stood proudly in the center of the room for this had been the armour of King Richard the first and had been worn by him during his conquest of Formaroth near 500 years ago. Still bearing the battle scars it sustained through the countless battles it had seen. Though these were not the items Alasdair wanted to show Kanna. Instead he walked over towards the back of the long room. In the corner stood what he was looking for. The armour of a famed samurai and great grandfather to Kanna Sadatake.

”How do you have this?” Kanna asked firmly, doing her best to keep it from being a demanding question. This particular set of armour has been engraved in her skull since she was a child. The two golden curved horns that sat atop the black helmet and the blood red oni half mask were a dead giveaway to the suit that was worn by her great grandfather, Oda Sadatake. The rest of the armour was black with red accent stitching. It was a treasure for her family and had been presumed to be lost and only existed in paintings, until now.

“It was recovered when Emperor Oda’s body was found” Alasdair replied calmly, ignoring the accusational tone in Kanna’s voice. “As I am sure you know he was ambushed by his enemies while travelling to Nyhem on a diplomatic mission. King Richard the third however wasn’t the most...” Alasdair paused for a moment as he tried his best not to insult the previous monarch “diplomatic. Instead of returning it to it’s rightful owner he kept it safely locked away here. After his brief time as high king I am ashamed to say the armour was forgotten about. Afterall relations between the Iba and the crown were not exactly close in those days. Something I plan to change. By returning this-“ Alasdair said as he extended his arm towards the armour “to its original owner, I hope to take us one step closer to a more permanent alliance.”

The young noblewoman stepped towards the suit, her footsteps silent against the marbled floors, and raised her right hand to touch the chest piece of the treasured heirloom. Her pale fingers gently brushed against cool metal plates which she noticed were highly polished. Though forgotten by previous monarchs of this country, whomever had the task of upkeeping the treasures of this foreign vault did not neglect the foreign work that graced the room with its presence and she greatly appreciated the care that person, or persons, took. While she did admire everything else the vault had to show, the small piece of home that was displayed in front of her simply held more value to her than anything else that Alasdair could show her.

”It is definitely a start.. Kanna spoke softly, her attention still focused on the armour in front of her while she moved to touch the face mask designed with the idea to strike fear into the enemies of its wearer. ”...in the right direction.”

“I am glad to hear it” Alasdair said with a smug smile, it seemed she had not noticed. “I will have the imperial guard carry it down to your ship, I am sure your father will be happy to lays his eyes upon it. Alas, as much as I have enjoyed our conversation I must attend to my duties at once. I pray you enjoy your remaining time here in Formaroth.” Alasdair said with a wide smile.

The young Iban woman turned to give the foreign ruler her full attention as he spoke. While she wanted in her heart for this armor to be authentic and proudly present it to her family, she simply knew better. Collecting herself, she bowed to Alasdair before speaking. "Thank you for taking the time to speak with me and returning this armor to my family. If time allows, I hope we have the opportunity to speak again as it was both informative and enjoyable."

“Likewise”, Alasdair replied as he turned around and headed towards the door. It had taken the smiths a great deal of time to forge the armour, and the scholars even longer to ensure it bore an identical resemblance to the original. The real armour had been lost over a decade ago when Cawanorian soldiers sieged Nyhem. Now Alasdair hoped that neither Kanna nor her family would realise it was a duplicate. Though even if they did, they could hardly accuse their new ally of being a liar.

Turning to Meredith, who had been graciously translating, Kanna thanked the other woman for her services and dismissed her for the rest of the morning. She also invited her for some tea over some Formarothian lessons later in the afternoon. While she had grown to like her native translator and trusted her enough to learn foreign languages from, Kanna did not want her to overhear what she said next. ”Toshiro-san, has Sora returned from his journey home?”

Sora was the name of the messenger hawk they had sent shortly after her initial talk with the Emperor, sending her father news of the alliance. Shaking his head, the captain spoke, his deep voice rumbling in his chest. ”No Kanna-sama, it will be another day or two before he returns and he will need to rest. I hope by his return, we will be heading home ourselves.”

”Only time will tell. In the meantime, once he returns I will need him to go back again, however this time he will go to my brother.”

With her instructions given, they departed from the relic vault, leaving the black and red Akaiban armour to stand alone amongst foreign treasures once more.