by Ryan Kirk
The sun had passed the midpoint when the final soldier walked through the tent and returned to his seat on the hillside. Fumio stepped out a moment later, for the first time since the voting began. His voice rang clear upon the hillside.
“No counting is needed. Lady Mari, this army is yours.”
Koji watched Mari’s reaction, muted as it was. She stepped forward, knelt, and bowed all the way to the ground. There were murmurs throughout the gathered soldiers. None of them had ever seen a lord or lady bow so deeply to anyone.
“Thank you,” she stated simply as she rose. “Your confidence will not be misplaced.”
With that, the assembly ended. Mari walked back towards her tent as the commanders began gathering their soldiers to resume the normal life of the camp. Even though a momentous occasion had just occurred, there was still guard duty to fill and food to cook.
Koji and Asa followed Mari. He was just about to congratulate her when a messenger reached them, out of breath. A look of fear radiated from his eyes. “My lady, I’m sorry, but we’ve just received a bird. The throne of your house has been claimed by another.”
3
That evening, Mari and the leadership of House Kita sat around the fire. The flames provided needed comfort, a warmth to fight off the chill not just of the evening, but of the past day’s events. The news from Stonekeep had frozen the hearts of her supporters. The effect had been particularly bleak after the excitement of the army declaring for Mari.
Despite the progress she’d made, her footing was now more treacherous than ever. She stood on the edge of a crumbling cliff, scrambling for safety.
Perhaps the worst consequence of the news was that it caused Mari to doubt herself. She never imagined she’d have to deal with another betrayal so quickly, and it made her question whether she should rule at all.
Strangely, Koji’s presence at the fire kept her moving forward. Although she still felt a familiar surge of anger every time she looked at him, his support was vocal and passionate. His confidence in her gave her confidence in herself. If she had the loyalty of a warrior of his strength, she had the qualities necessary to lead her people. She had to believe that.
Mari had received a full report earlier that evening, and the news still stung every time her mind wandered toward the capital. The throne of their house lands had been claimed by Tatsuo, a noble adviser Mari had known personally since she was a child. He had always been close to the house, a fact that probably strengthened his claim.
The evening had been spent writing letters, sending birds and messengers to all the other nobles, announcing her own claim bolstered by the support of the army and the blades. Still, it would be days before she heard back and learned where the other nobles stood in this unexpected conflict. She wanted to believe they would support her by virtue of her blood. These lands had been ruled by House Kita for almost twenty generations. But she was becoming accustomed to the stabs of betrayal her house suffered.
If she had been in Stonekeep, she might have ordered Koji to assassinate Tatsuo. The traitor deserved no less, and although Mari detested assassination, her lands could not suffer through a civil conflict with the larger war on their doorstep. They needed unity, now more than ever. She didn’t have time for gentler solutions.
Thankfully, being out in the foothills made that move less immediately feasible. Her distance from Stonekeep gave her some space to consider. She had the blades and the majority of the army. House Kita had other military units besides the ones with her, but they were smaller and scattered throughout the lands. By force alone she held the strongest claim.
Mari shook her head. She couldn’t allow herself to think that she was in a battle for the throne. It was hers, and a traitor sought it. If she gave even the slightest credence to competing claims, it eroded her own authority. She was the Lady of House Kita.
The primary challenge was infiltrating Stonekeep itself. Tatsuo had control of the capital, his only claim to power. Mari had no desire to lead her army into a civil war, and Stonekeep was nearly impregnable. It was built into a mountainside, sitting atop a long, narrow path. Above it were terraced rice paddies that fed the city and were themselves protected from siege. If Tatsuo decided, he could hold the city indefinitely with no more than fifty soldiers. Mari’s actions needed to be fast, subtle, and decisive.
Over the course of the early evening, she laid out her own strategy. Most of her plan remained unchanged. The situation in Stonekeep was only a small portion of the problems her house lands faced. She needed to unify the people by defeating Tatsuo, but she also needed to defend their lands from the invading armies of Lord Katashi.
The orders she gave tonight represented another test. She knew her followers would dislike the commands. But they had to accept Mari’s orders. If she couldn’t convince those closest to her to obey, what chance did she have?
Mari cleared her throat, and the attention around the campfire focused on her. Before she spoke, she looked at the assembly. Fumio was present. After the vote, one of her first commands had been to place him in charge of the whole combined armies. The choice had been a simple one. Not only was he the best qualified, but he was the highest-ranking general still alive.
Beside Fumio sat the best news Mari had gotten all day. Takahiro, the head of her guard, had finally returned just that afternoon. He had been away with a small contingent of blades, but had rushed back to Starfall as soon as he heard about the disaster. They had spoken briefly, but Mari had been pulled away by other responsibilities. She looked forward to spending more time catching up. Simply seeing him was enough to help her breathe more easily, though.
Next to Takahiro were the three blades Mari was closest to. Jun, the dayblade, had been with her since the beginning of her campaign. He was one of her oldest supporters. Koji and Asa sat side by side, completing her circle of support. She couldn’t help but notice how closely the two of them leaned in toward one another.
Mari wasted no time with meaningless speeches. There was no pleasure in giving orders people detested, but if her people were to be safe, there was no other choice. “We need to act quickly to make sure our house doesn’t fall apart. Our survival depends on our unity.”
There were nods of agreement around the campfire. Of course, they’d all agree with her goals. They’d only argue with her methods. “Fumio, I’d like you to work with Jun. You’ll take the army and whatever blades Jun can assemble. Lord Katashi’s forces need to be driven back into their own lands. We need to secure our border and push them back across the river.”
Her general seemed uncertain. “Wouldn’t it be better to march the army to Stonekeep? It is the largest force in the land, and the sight alone should cause Tatsuo to abdicate.”
Mari had predicted his argument. “No. Stonekeep is currently more important as a symbol than as a strategic location. Tatsuo will be dealt with, but not by an army. Our lands and people need relief, and that means driving Lord Katashi out.”
Fumio nodded. She’d expected more of a fight from him, but his agreement stoked her confidence. Katashi was a problem. His forces had retreated after the siege of Starfall, but they hadn’t fled back to their own lands. They had established a foothold in House Kita’s lands and weren’t likely to relinquish it without persuasion. If the birds they received were accurate, Katashi’s forces were already spreading through the land again, taking what meager food stores existed after the brutal winter.
Koji’s orders came next. “I want you to assemble a group of blades. Your unorthodox tactics delayed this war. Now I want you to help me win it. With all due respect to Fumio, if we simply try to match force with force, we’re going to lose. Even if we win, the cost will be high. We’re too heavily outnumbered. Attack their supply lines, kill their scouts, do whatever you can think of to break them.”
Koji met her gaze. “I had hoped to be a part of your guard.”
She had also predicted that was coming. Whatever debt of honor Koji thought he held had been cent
ered firmly on protecting her. The sentiment was noble, but it wasn’t particularly useful now. His skills were better used against her enemies.
“I understand, and I appreciate it.” Her voice was calm, surprising even her. She hadn’t forgiven Koji, but she thought she understood him. “I have special plans for my guard, Koji, and while your sword is useful guarding me, it will do my people far more good if you strike at Katashi.”
He wouldn’t like it, but he’d agree. Of all those gathered before her, his loyalty and obedience were strongest. Koji bowed, confirming her intuition. “Yes, my lady.”
Mari turned to Asa, the only one left, and the one she was least certain about. “Asa, I would like you to become the head of my guard.”
Both Asa and Takahiro seemed taken aback, and she saw the two of them glance uncertainly at each other. “My lady?” Asa asked.
“Yes?”
“Why?”
“Because blades have had female leaders for countless cycles. Because your swords are powerful weapons, and in the confined spaces of Stonekeep your skills will be invaluable. And because I need Takahiro to become my chief adviser. He can’t fulfill both roles at once.”
Takahiro was the one who realized her intention first. “You’re planning on sneaking into Stonekeep, aren’t you?”
Mari nodded. “I’m hoping to win Stonekeep through diplomacy, but if that isn’t possible, yes, we will travel there with a group of blades.”
Mari kept her eyes focused on the group. Asa and Koji were trading glances that made Mari certain they’d be arguing again tonight. She saw a distance between them that hadn’t been there moments before. While they had a good deal in common, there was much they didn’t, and they struggled against their differences of opinion. But they would both follow. They had to.
There were a hundred small details to take care of, but their campaign to save the Kingdom began tonight.
They were still about a league away, but the tall stone walls of Stonekeep already towered above them. The road they were on had been worn smooth, hundreds of cycles of travel evident with every step. The trail was relatively narrow, barely wide enough for two carts to pass. The path followed the side of a mountain, carved out over lifetimes of work. To their left was a solid wall of rock, water trickling down in places from the snow melt and springs high above. Where water was known to flow, small tunnels had been built under the path, allowing the water to pass underneath without soaking the path itself. To their right was a sheer drop, the valley floor already a hundred paces away and receding with each step. Birds flew off in the distance at eye level, floating in the air with ease on the sunny day.
The trail was steep, and only those used to the high mountain passes moved with any ease. The air was harder to breathe, and even Mari found herself struggling more than usual. She had been in the lowlands too long, it seemed. But she fared better than at least one of her companions. Next to her, Asa fought for breath, trying hard to hide her weakness in front of the others. There was no shame in it, though. Even the strongest lost their vigor if they weren’t used to such heights.
Their journey caused Mari to remember the day her own father had been crowned the lord of their house, a moon after her grandfather passed away. She had only been a young child, but she remembered the bright procession that had crawled from the valley floor below to the city above. To this day, she wasn’t sure she had ever seen a more impressive sight.
No such procession existed for her. They traveled small. Some of her honor guard were already in the city, making contacts and learning the mood of the people. Others were behind them. Mari traveled with only two. Asa was in her traveling robes, well-worn but thick fabric that protected her from the elements. Her swords were hidden on her back, and if past experience was any indication, she was carrying at least a half-dozen other weapons on her body. But none of them were visible.
On her other side was Takahiro. Of the three of them, he handled the thin air and steep trail the best. Some of the work he’d been doing with the blades had taken place in the mountains to the south, so his lungs were prepared for the strain of the hike. He was also out of uniform. The guard carried his sword on his hip, certain it wouldn’t attract any attention.
If it wouldn’t have raised questions, Mari would have preferred to travel only with Asa. She would have felt safe, and Asa wasn’t quite as intense about protecting her as Takahiro was. The man constantly worried about her, fretting over one small detail or another. Asa let her do as she pleased. Perhaps Asa’s gifts allowed her to feel more confident, or perhaps Takahiro hadn’t quite outgrown the need to be protective. Takahiro would be a useful adviser, and would always be trusted, but Mari found his constant hovering exhausting at times.
Asa’s breathing became labored once again. As had become their pattern, they stopped. She was no good to them if she was out of breath. While she recovered her strength, Takahiro and Mari spoke of their memories of Stonekeep and wondered what the city would be like today. Neither had been back for well over a cycle, even though both called it home. Asa’s breathing steadied and they continued up without acknowledging the pause. Asa was too proud to thank them, and neither of them asked for recognition.
The sun had just passed the midpoint of the day when they reached the gates. Mari looked up at the massive doors, still amazed at what her house had built. The walls were several paces thick, the door heavy reinforced wood. Her eyes traveled up the steep path where several boulders sat behind a steel gate. In the event of a siege, if the door ever looked as though it would fall, the boulders would be released, blocking the entrance from invaders.
They passed the gate without problem. Mari and Asa kept their heads down, as they would be expected to. The guard told Takahiro he had his work cut out escorting two young women. Takahiro laughed and they were let through without challenge. Asa, being less used to the attitude toward women in the Kingdom, glared at the guard, but had enough sense to keep her head down, Mari noted.
Mari breathed easier when they had passed the gate. She’d expected more of a challenge, but now she was home.
The path beyond the gate was steep, narrow, and led in only one direction. As a child, Juro had explained the defenses to her. The path was the only way into the city. If they broke down the gate and made it through the boulders, any attacking army would then be forced into the narrow corridors where they could be picked off at leisure.
There was a reason why Stonekeep had never fallen. In fact, no one had even tried attacking. If Mari’s memory was correct, the last time they’d even shut the gates was about a hundred and thirty cycles ago, and that had been due to a plague.
She breathed in the scents of the city. Everything was so familiar. How many times had she walked this very road? With the rest of her life consumed by chaos and challenging decisions, she took comfort in walking the paths of remembrance.
Her relief ended the moment they left the outer city and entered the flatter plain of the middle city. This was where the businesses operated and where the wealthier residents lived. The closer one came to the inner keep, the richer the households. Mari had expected to come upon a bustling and vibrant market, but she got a very different impression of her home today.
The mood felt downright somber. The stands were open, but sellers weren’t shouting, weren’t competing against one another. There were people buying, but not nearly as many as there should have been. The market was quiet and subdued. As Mari walked through, she saw grim faces and angry haggling. Even the smells of meat grilling over the open flame weren’t enough to bring back Mari’s pleasant memories.
She knew the winter had been rough, but of all places, Stonekeep should have been safe. It grew the vast majority of its own food and none of it had been in danger. Was morale that low, or was something else causing what she saw?
Mari resisted the urge to ask questions. She had pulled up her hood against the mountain wind and her head was bowed. She gained nothing by announcing her presence yet. T
hey needed more information before they could plan their next move.
As they left the market, Mari was surprised to see “wanted” posters. From the sketches and descriptions, it sounded like some of the wanted were young men and women, some of the drawings making them look to be no more than children.
Mari noted the information but didn’t react. There was obviously more going on than she expected, but there was no point speculating until she knew more. She followed Takahiro to the inn they had agreed to gather at, followed by Asa, who moved like a cat through the crowds.
The inn was run by an older man who was a strong supporter of House Kita. Impulsively, Mari pulled down her hood as she entered the common room. She looked around, noticing several people paying attention to the new arrivals. A step behind her, Asa whispered fiercely. “Put up your hood.”
Mari complied. No one had gotten more than a brief glance, and she wasn’t too worried, but it was wise to be careful. Takahiro spoke with the innkeeper, and a few moments later they found themselves in a comfortable, well-appointed room.
Mari wasted no time in turning on Takahiro. “What has happened?”
Takahiro’s look was blank. “I know no more than you, my lady, but I agree. The city seems to have lost its spirit.”
“I will be most interested in hearing what the other guards have to say.”
Takahiro nodded. “I will make contact, my lady. Please, make yourself comfortable.”
The former guard left and Mari walked over to the window, which had a view of the market. She shook her head, speaking only partly to herself and partly to Asa. “The walls might be the same, but this isn’t the city I grew up in. This isn’t my home.”
Takahiro returned that evening, and the news didn’t inspire confidence. The laws of the city and the land, the bedrock of their society, were gradually being overturned. Tatsuo understood well enough that the right to rule came primarily through the approval of the landowners and the nobles. His policies, one after another, benefited the ruling class. Mari and her family had always tried to balance the needs of the commoners with those of the landowners, a difficult but necessary dance. The nobility had always been content under Mari’s father, but now they rejoiced.
