Nightblade's End

by Ryan Kirk

  Yoshinori had called the blades snakes, but he was one if she’d ever met one in human form. If he saw a way to slither his way into power, perhaps he would publicly back her for the moment. Otherwise, he needed to try for the throne today, and he knew as well as she did that any vote taken at the moment was razor-thin. If he supported her now, he would be a continuing threat, but she was willing to push the problem into the future if she could at least solidify her rule today.

  She ended with her strongest move. “You’ve asked, reasonably, why you should support me.” She paused, waiting for all eyes to focus on her.

  “It is true that I have the support of the military and the blades. That gives me strength. But a good ruler does not rule by strength alone. As we speak, I’m distributing papers throughout Stonekeep and the land, proclaiming the truth that I was the Lady in White so many have spoken about. The legend has grown in the telling, but the people will know what I did for them this past winter. If you support me, the people will know that the nobles support them. In this time of crisis, we all need what stability we can find. I am the best hope for that stability.”

  She left plenty unspoken, but the nobles understood well enough. The legend of the Lady in White had grown, and Mari would muster the support of the people. By itself, such support wasn’t a deciding factor. But combined with the support of the armies and the blades, the nobles knew they’d have chaos on their hands if they didn’t vote for Mari. And the vote would be public. Mari had done all she could to trap them in a corner, giving them only one reasonable way out.

  Yoshinori seemed to be the first to arrive at that conclusion. He watched her for a moment, and Mari thought she saw a combination of respect and hatred in his eyes. “My peers,” he began, “I, for one, believe in Lady Mari, and she shall have my support. I will call for the vote now.”

  She fought the temptation to smile. It was a smart move, and left him several avenues towards power. He would forever be known as the one who had called for Mari’s vote. He would indeed be trouble in the future, but for now, he served her purposes.

  By the time the sun hit its zenith, the vote had been tallied, and Mari was the undisputed ruler of House Kita.

  Mari rubbed at her temples, wishing she knew of a way to get the ache behind her eyes to go away. Too many problems required attention she didn’t have to give. With the throne secured, she’d spent the rest of the day handling what seemed like an endless series of crises. She didn’t know how the land had held together as long as it had. And now, at the end of the day, another crisis loomed. She read the note one more time, then threw it on her writing desk.

  Takahiro was the only other person in the room. He too had read the note, but refrained from commenting until she asked him. Right now, she wanted to think about anything else.

  She held her head in her hands. “So, how did I do?”

  “There were some missteps near the end of the day. For example, I think you’ll need to lend more credence to Arata’s concerns about the distribution of food reserves. But overall, you did well. As well as any lord I’ve ever seen.”

  Mari appreciated the honest assessment, and his comments stirred a long-distant memory. Takahiro had seen several more cycles than her, but he had been with her family as a bodyguard for so long she sometimes forgot he had existed before he became a bodyguard. “You’re from a noble house yourself, aren’t you?”

  “A disgraced house, but yes. Our lands are tiny, and when I elected to become a guard for House Kita, my younger brother assumed the responsibility of heading our house. I have renounced my claim. It was the only way your father would allow me to serve.”

  “Do you ever regret your decision?”

  Takahiro chuckled, a sound Mari found particularly pleasing after the events of the day. “Do I miss councils, complaints, and arguments over how one’s lands should be run? Never once. I was not made for rule, my lady.”

  Mari smiled at the comment. She understood the draw of power, but the responsibility of rule was a burden, and always should be. The thought made her groan, knowing there was more to do. She desired sleep, but not quite yet. She picked up the note. “Come. There’s one last task to complete before the day is over.”

  Takahiro gave a short bow and followed her without question. She assumed he could guess where she led him.

  The streets were dark but the sky was still light when they got to the inn. Mari had missed that about Stonekeep and the tall mountains. She loved how the sun would set behind the sheer granite faces, casting the city into darkness while the sky shone dark blue overhead.

  Mari found her target sitting in the corner of the common room with a cup of beer. Mari took a seat and ordered a beer of her own. She’d never been much for drinking, but tonight she’d gladly partake. One didn’t become the first lady to rule one’s lands and not celebrate, after all.

  Asa looked up, her expression something between curiosity and annoyance. She didn’t speak, waiting for Mari to take the lead. Once the beer arrived and she’d taken a nice, long pull, she did.

  “That’s good. Just what one needs after a day like today.” She glanced at Asa, wondering if she would receive any response.

  There was none.

  Mari passed the note over to Asa, who read it without speaking. The nightblade’s face didn’t so much as twitch.

  One could say many great things about Asa, Mari thought, but her manners and conversation would not be among the qualities listed. The blade continued to sit there in silence, waiting for Mari to get to her point.

  Mari capitulated. “What do you think he wants?”

  The letter was from Hajimi, demanding that all blades meet in the valley below Stonekeep to plan their future. A copy had found its way into Mari’s hands.

  Asa shrugged. “He’s up to something.”

  Mari fought the urge to slap the girl. Anyone could understand that. She’d hoped Asa would have some insight. If the nightblade knew more, she would have said more.

  At least, she hoped as much. She trusted Asa, but recognized the blade was torn between different loyalties.

  “Will you go?” Mari asked.

  Asa nodded. “I will ensure there are others to lead your guard while I am gone, but whatever Hajimi plans, I must be present.”

  Mari held back a sigh, though she’d expected as much. The meeting wasn’t for several days yet, as Hajimi no doubt wanted most of the blades present. But much of Mari’s strength relied on the blades. If Hajimi renounced his support, the ramifications could destroy her. She felt as though she had a knife to her throat.

  Actually, she felt like she had several knives to her throat. The other nobles were sharpening theirs as well. Which made her think of the other reason she’d come here tonight.

  “Asa, I’d like you to start a new group of guards, a core group within the honor guard.”

  Asa frowned. “Why?”

  “Because I want them to be women.”

  Asa set down her mug slowly, and Mari got the impression she only did so to prevent spilling beer by slamming it down. Beside her, Mari could feel Takahiro’s tension. She hadn’t given him any warning about this idea.

  “Why?” Asa repeated.

  “Because I am going to need protection everywhere I go, including during my baths and when I dress. I don’t care to be ogled, or to have a guard distracted when he should be protecting my life. I need women who can and will fight to protect me.”

  She didn’t say that it served a political purpose as well. Even a small number of women, present and visible as guards, would begin changing perceptions, which would be necessary if Mari was going to continue to rule. They would need to keep her alive, of course, but that was why she needed Asa to find and train them.

  “That will be a challenging task. Where shall I find women who can fight?”

  “I had hoped you would start with blades. In time, perhaps, others will come who can pass your training.”

  She could tell Takahiro wanted to arg
ue. She turned on him. “What?”

  “You risk yourself unnecessarily,” he said. Asa might not guess at her hidden motives, but he could see them.

  “I disagree. Could you fight your best, without distraction, if I stood naked beside you?”

  She’d never seen the shade of red on Takahiro’s face, and she felt a small measure of satisfaction at the reaction. He didn’t argue her point, though.

  Mari turned back to Asa. “Will you do it?”

  Asa didn’t look enthusiastic, and Mari wondered what was going through her mind. Truthfully, she didn’t know if the blade would accept or not.

  “Fine. I will. But I cannot guarantee my length of service.”

  Mari knew she couldn’t ask for more, not from one whose loyalties were so torn. But when Asa gave her word, it was good. She released a sigh of relief. “You can discuss specifics with Takahiro. I imagine it will take some time to make the changes.”

  Mari took another giant pull from her beer, amazed at how good it tasted. She began to understand now why her father drank as much as he had. She could already feel her muscles unknotting after a full day of hard decisions. She felt good, though, as she’d accomplished much today.

  Asa, on the other hand, looked like someone had tied a noose around her neck.

  7

  In two days, the blades would meet. That meeting, Asa was increasingly certain, would set the path for the blades moving forward. She hadn’t heard so much as a whisper, but she had gained something of an understanding of Hajimi in the past few cycles. He would be looking beyond the war to what came next, but he wouldn’t move without the blessing of the remaining blades. That gathering, so close yet so far away, would be very interesting.

  Compared to her days now, the gathering would be a welcome relief from her daily boredom.

  Asa stood behind Mari, who was seated on the small dais in the courtyard. She had volunteered for guard duty today. Young women had flocked to her over the past few days, trying to prove they had the martial skill to become a guard. Asa didn’t understand why. Were they desperate for gold, or did they see honor in guarding their lady? Asa had to turn aside at least nineteen of every twenty, and the ones she did admit for training were almost always a far cry from a warrior.

  Today Asa took a break from the madness, but she wasn’t convinced guarding Mari was any less a waste of her time. Although the day was young, there had already been several encounters where she worried she would have to draw her sword. Today was open council, flooded with complaints of the people, and Mari’s decisions often left few happy.

  Asa found she detested the workings of a noble house. Compared to Mari’s complex challenges, the life of a warrior was a slow stroll down a straight path. She hated the never-ending complaints of the people. Too often, people came to Mari with problems Asa believed they could easily solve on their own. One couple had even come with a marital dispute!

  But worse than the meaningless complaints were the ones that had some merit, or the ones that involved political maneuvers beyond Asa’s understanding. Already this morning, Mari had listened to a farmer who demanded military protection for his farm. The lady sent him away, his request unfulfilled. A particularly daring young noble came next, barely bowed in front of her, and asked publicly for her hand in marriage. Those gathered to watch had leaned forward eagerly to see how Mari would react. The young man spoke for some time about his suitability, and no small number of onlookers seemed to agree. Asa believed the man talked far too much, and every word he uttered made him less appealing. Mari ejected him from the courtyard before he had even finished listing his desirable attributes. That decision, at least, Asa agreed with.

  Another farmer came next, asking for seed for his farm. It was late in the season to be planting, but his fields had been destroyed by Katashi’s retreating armies. Mari granted him a bag of seed over the objection of some onlookers who believed it was a waste this late in the year.

  She rebuked them sharply. “Our seed does no good in the storerooms, and we have precious little food as it is. I’d rather risk some on a chance than the certainty of starvation this winter.”

  After the farmer, Mari’s treasurer stepped forward. Asa glanced warily around the room. The treasurer was the only person to approach the dais whose presence had been arranged by Mari. Normally such business would be conducted in private, but Mari, influenced by the strange teachings of Takashi, believed that as many dealings as reasonable should be handled in public.

  “My lady,” the treasurer, Naoki, began. “I have worked the figures and submit them to you now, with copies, as you requested.”

  Mari nodded, and the onlookers were given small sheets of paper with numbers written across them. Naoki offered Asa a sheet, but she declined. She didn’t feel any need to complicate her life any further than it already was. From the expressions of the onlookers, Asa had a decent idea of how the assembled nobles felt about the proposal. A wave of angry muttering passed over the crowd.

  Mari gave everyone a few moments to study the sheet before speaking to Naoki. “You believe this constitutes a fair price for the food our armies need?”

  “Yes. The prices are based on current market values.”

  Yoshinori stood up from the crowd. In the time since Mari had taken her throne, he had become the leader of the opposing faction. His complaints always sounded like support, but his intentions were clear. Asa believed that Mari would be better off if Yoshinori found a sword through his stomach one day. But Mari detested such tactics.

  The noble spoke loudly. “Lady Mari, I admire your attempts to better the lives of your people. But don’t you think it sets a dangerous precedent to pay for what has always been given?”

  Mari didn’t waver. “I think you mean to say ‘taken.’ The food has only been provided because of the forces the nobles wield. This proposal allows those who provide our food to feed their own families.”

  Yoshinori spoke as though he addressed a child in the basics of how the world worked. His voice was kind but condescending. “Lady Mari, all farmers are allowed a certain amount of what they grow. That is how they feed themselves, and it has been enshrined in our laws for countless cycles. This idea of yours threatens to upend a system that has sustained us through good seasons and bad. Why change what doesn’t need repair?”

  Mari’s gaze could have frozen steam. “And if I were to send auditors to your lands, would they find that all farmers have received their fair share? A noble who doesn’t provide the fifth to those on his land faces severe consequences.”

  Yoshinori’s face didn’t show any reaction, but Asa could tell from the way his balance shifted he hadn’t considered that Mari would push the issue this far. They still underestimated her.

  In front of the nobles was a proposal that was radical, at least within this house, as far as Asa understood. For generations, the allotted share of the farmers who worked the land for the nobles had been one-fifth. The nobles, in turn, provided one-fifth of their total to the house to feed the armies.

  In many cases, the system worked well. Mari told Asa that most nobles usually cared for their farmers, giving from their own stores when the seasons were difficult. But lately, that had changed. With the great uncertainty from the bitter winter and the political upheaval, many noble families were taking more than their fair share and hoarding the food. Other lords might have chosen a single noble family to make an example of, but Mari didn’t think that way. She hated the idea of strong-arming people into doing what she wanted.

  Instead, she offered a new choice. Farmers could, if they chose, sell a tenth of their labor directly to the house. Mari would guarantee a certain price. Mari’s solution meant the nobles might lose some of the food they had been hoarding, but Mari loved the idea of giving the farmers more choices.

  Asa struggled to care. Force seemed an easier route to her, but Mari had strange ideas about governing.

  At the moment, though, the question was how Yoshinori would react to Ma
ri’s implied threat. Mari knew Yoshinori was one of the guilty parties, a noble who had taken more food than was allowed by law and not sent enough onward to the house. She could have his lands taken from him by force. Asa much preferred that idea.

  Would Yoshinori accept her compromise and lose one tenth of his food, or would he push the matter?

  He proved to be the coward Asa believed him to be. He sat down without another word.

  Mari looked over the crowd. “Are there others who wish to speak?”

  Asa’s hand twitched towards her sword. Many of the nobles looked as though they had plenty to say, but they all remained silent. That worried her more than angry outbursts. That silence meant they would speak later, when Mari’s back was turned. No doubt, Yoshinori would be in the center of most of those conversations.

  Mari had won the seat of her house, but her position, and her life, were far from secure.

  Asa fingered the note in the folds of her robe as she neared the temporary encampment of the blades. The camp sat in the valley below Stonekeep. Not only was the location convenient to the seat of the house lands, the mountains rising around it acted as a natural defense. Asa’s robes allowed her entrance into the camp, but the note, sealed with Hajimi’s own seal, would get her into the inner circles of the impromptu city.

  The note had found her the day before, requesting a semi-private audience before the gathering. The note gave no other reason, but Asa would seize any excuse to leave her current responsibilities behind. The gathering was to start about noon, and the sun had just risen in the sky.

  Asa hadn’t visited the blades’ tent city before. By the time they’d all migrated from Starfall, she’d already been inside Stonekeep, embroiled in the intrigues within. The camp was clean and orderly, but Asa still felt the stab to her pride to see her people living in tents.

  The mood around the camp seemed to agree with her. People completed their daily tasks: cooking food, carrying water from the nearest well, washing their robes, training, and more. But Asa heard no laughter, no lighthearted conversation. Every blade she observed looked as though they carried a great burden. And, in a way, they did. Asa didn’t think on it often, but the blades here were the majority of everyone that was left. In the entire Kingdom, there were maybe only a thousand of them left. Would they wither away and die, like a tree overshadowed by its larger neighbors?