by Ryan Kirk
As night fell the next day, the small group of blades came to their first target. Working with Fumio and the information he’d had from spies, Koji had a list of potential places to strike. Damaging any of them would hurt Katashi’s war effort, and the more they struck, the better.
Their destination was a small estate, the home of the noble who owned this part of Katashi’s lands. It stood on the plains, defying the winds and storms of the open prairie.
As far as estates went, this one wasn’t much. A short wall surrounded the house and the grain storage, but Koji and his warriors would almost be able to jump over it. The wall served more as a demarcation of the property than a defensive fortification. At the distance they stood, Koji couldn’t sense the individual lives inside. Instead, he could feel the combined energies. Though it was little better than a guess, he didn’t think the grounds held too many people. The other blades with him agreed.
The group waited for the cover of night. Koji would have preferred to slip into their traditional robes, the black fabric that blended in so well with the darkness of the evening. But they didn’t want to bring blame back on the blades. They remained in their everyday traveling clothes, and the blades spent the evening enjoying a light meal before their mission truly began.
The mood around the campfire was subdued. Every blade was a volunteer, but that didn’t make the task in front of them easier. They knew the consequences of their actions. They chose willingly, and each bore the burden of that responsibility.
Once the sun had been down for some time they moved forward. Koji advanced, tall grasses swishing around his knees as he walked. The lives of the estate in front of him resolved in his sense as he neared. His initial assumptions had been correct. He only sensed two people on the walls, and they didn’t feel particularly strong.
He motioned to the group and released them. Everyone with him knew what to do.
Koji had expected more resistance. Somehow, the fact that it was easy only made it worse for him. If he’d had to fight, if he’d had to fear for his life, then perhaps he could have justified their actions. But the men on the wall were killed without problem, not even knowing their death was coming.
His warriors crawled over the wall and into the estates. Koji led a group of four into the house while others set about freeing the horses and burning the storehouse of grain. Koji glanced out a window as the fire quickly caught. Originally, they’d hoped to send the grain back to the lands of House Kita. But at the moment that would have required traveling with dozens, if not hundreds, of people, and sending them far to the north to an uncontested bridge across the river. They didn’t have the time or the people to spare, and Koji had wanted to travel with a much smaller group.
It pained him to burn the food. There was so little. But the nobles held all the reserves, and all the supply carts originated on estates like this one. Instead of attacking the supply lines, Koji and his people were attacking the stores themselves.
The attack was devastating, though. Food was already scarce, and some of this food went to local villages. Koji didn’t know how this particular noble was dividing the food between his villages and the army, but burning this food was as good as killing hundreds. They all knew it.
So, apparently, did the noble who owned the lands. He came rushing out of his bedchamber, his eyes wide with shock and fear. Too late he realized strangers had invaded his house. The alarm hadn’t even been raised. Koji and the blades had been too effective against too few.
Koji drew his sword to kill the noble. Their mission was simple: destroy the food and kill the nobles. Send Katashi’s land into chaos.
Koji didn’t know anything about this particular noble. Perhaps he ruled the land well, making difficult decisions about where to send the food, trying to protect those who lived on his lands. Or maybe he was a tyrant, starving others while he profited and thrived. Maybe he was somewhere between those extremes. Regardless, he owned the lands that Katashi used to drive his army forward. Koji wouldn’t ask anyone else to carry this burden for him.
He didn’t have to. Before the noble had even understood what was happening to his home, Sakura had drawn her blade and cut his head off.
Koji stopped, shocked at the quick action. He’d told the others he would kill the noble, but Sakura showed no more emotion over the murder than if she’d just killed an annoying insect. She wiped her blade clean on the noble’s bedclothes and sheathed her sword again. She didn’t even look back at Koji.
For a moment, Koji was grateful to her. He’d never killed an unarmed man before, and although he was sure he could bring himself to do it, he was glad he had some time yet.
They moved quickly through the rest of the house. Their invasion had been so successful, most of the house was still asleep. No guard had awoken the others, and no one on the property was alive and awake to alert the rest of the house about the fire on the property.
A storm had just passed through, so Koji wasn’t too worried about the fire spreading to the rest of the estates. As far as he was concerned, his work here was done. He was about to turn around and order them to leave when Sakura hissed at him. He approached as she looked into a small bedroom. A young man slept there in fine clothes. The boy clearly was the noble’s son, and had seen eight or nine cycles.
Sakura gave Koji a meaningful glance, and Koji realized she was asking if she should kill the boy.
Koji considered it.
Suddenly, realizing what he was contemplating, he shook his head. The family was probably as good as dead anyway. There wouldn’t be enough food, and the boy was too young to rule. Koji didn’t know what the family would go through in the next moon or two, but he was certain it wouldn’t be pleasant. They didn’t need to add to the family’s pain.
Sakura looked displeased, and for a moment, Koji worried she wouldn’t obey his order.
Then, with a low growl, she left the doorway of the room, heading outside.
Koji looked at the sleeping boy, his heart unable to go out to the young man. All he felt was emptiness inside him.
He turned around and left the house. In the morning, the family would awaken to tragedy, but by then, the nightblades would be long gone.
12
Even though the sun shone brightly overhead, Mari shivered. The air felt cold against her skin, even as the sun warmed her. Perhaps it was only her imagination. She never had quite gotten used to the sight of dead bodies.
She’d been in battle before, and she’d even killed. Violence was no stranger to her, and yet somehow, this was different. She couldn’t put her finger on why. Perhaps it was the lack of steel anywhere near the body, or the meaninglessness of it. Why had she insisted on coming here in the first place? She should be in bed, recovering from last night’s assassination attempt. Mari’s faith in Asa had been rewarded handsomely.
Unfortunately, the previous night had not been a complete victory. Her enemies, it seemed, were every bit as determined to overthrow her as she was to rule.
Mari looked again at the body of Isau. He had been a minor noble, but one of her most fervent supporters. For him to die now, like this, was a blow. Not only did her position among the council weaken, but it felt as though someone was sending a message directly to her. If she remained in power, those who supported her would suffer the consequences.
Asa came out of the house, the sounds of wailing servants following her as she slid the door open and then shut it again. She looked up at the balcony two stories above them, then down at the body sprawled on the ground with a look of shock on his face. Asa looked deep in thought.
After a while, Mari tired of the silence. “What are you thinking?”
Asa looked around, as though checking to see if anyone was listening. But Mari’s guards had cordoned off the area, and they were alone. “You say that Isau was one of your supporters?”
Mari nodded. “One of my strongest. His family has long ties to mine. I remember him as a young boy when he came over on their annual visit
s to Stonekeep. He will be sorely missed on the closed council. Why?”
Asa shook her head. “I’m certain Isau was pushed off the balcony.”
Mari’s stomach tightened into knots. She’d been fairly sure as soon as she’d heard the news. Isau dying on the same night of Mari’s own assassination attempt was too coincidental. But still, hearing Asa confirm it felt like a physical blow. She knew she wasn’t directly responsible, but that didn’t stop the feelings of guilt from nearly overwhelming her.
Asa looked back up at the balcony. “Isau was considered a strong climber. He wasn’t a warrior, but if he was a frequent mountaineer, as his family suggests, his balance and coordination should have been fine. According to his guards, he wasn’t drinking yesterday, so he shouldn’t have suffered from any impairments.”
“Accidents do happen.” The defense felt hollow, even to Mari’s ears.
“Yes, but the rug on the balcony is also disturbed, as though there was a scuffle. And I refuse to believe one of your key supporters died randomly on the same night you were attacked.”
Although Mari detested the line of reasoning, she agreed with Asa. She felt the dishonor of the act as a personal affront, offended that someone would even dare do something so base in her lands.
Asa brought her out of her reverie. “Who benefits most from this?”
Mari didn’t need long to answer that question. “Yoshinori.”
If she had died last night, Yoshinori would have effortlessly ascended to the rule of the house. Even though he’d failed at assassinating Mari, it looked like he had plans within plans.
Asa frowned, not liking the answer. “Do you believe him capable of something like this?”
Mari considered. “A moon ago, I would have said no. Now, I’m not so sure. The case against him keeps building. I can’t think of anyone else who would benefit as much as he would. If I were to fall, I have little doubt that he would become the new lord of the lands. But still, I’ve always thought of him as a purely political enemy. I wouldn’t expect such violence from him.”
“How much will the loss of Isau affect your support in closed council?”
Mari shrugged. “Most still support me, although Isau was vocal and persuasive. I’ll survive, but he’ll be sorely missed.”
“Tell your other supporters to double their guard and never be alone. If someone is coming at you through them, they might also be in danger. At the very least, ask them to be cautious, and maybe not to stand on any balconies in the near future.”
Mari agreed to that much at least. She couldn’t afford to lose much more support.
Mari sat in her small office, the true seat of power in her house lands. The throne room was large, ornate, and impersonal. For making a statement of power, there was no place better. To achieve anything of worth, there was no place worse. Whenever she needed to think or do any work that was beyond that of a figurehead, this small office was where she retreated, just like her father had, and Juro after him.
There were mementos of both of them in the room. On one hall hung a long scroll, decorated with a rural scene an artist had created many cycles ago. Mari now suspected that her father had always wished for a simpler life. To live the life in that painting, fishing in a stream without a concern, had always been his deepest desire. It was a shame he hadn’t had enough time after his rule to make his dream a reality. By the time he’d passed the house onto Juro, he was already at death’s door.
Juro’s largest contribution to the room was a small dagger, ornately jeweled, that sat on the desk. He’d received it as a gift from a noble house on his ascension to the lordship. He’d hated the blade, hated that good steel could be ruined by such decoration. Her brother had been a deeply pragmatic man, and he ended up using the blade to open letters and break seals. He found no end of delight in making the useless gift useful.
Mari still hadn’t brought anything of her own into the room. Somehow, it didn’t feel quite right. As comfortable as she felt here, the idea of making the room her own still felt like a trespass.
She felt a connection to her family here, deeper than in other parts of the small castle. She felt a bond, a string connecting past, present, and future. Her family made hard decisions here, decisions that changed the course of their lands. But their house had always survived. She felt like she owed it to her ancestors to succeed, to make the most out of the sacrifices they’d made.
Because of that, her profound sense of failure was even more pronounced at the moment, digging deeply into her, darkening her heart. So many before her had worked diligently to keep their people safe and their land secure. Though she believed in the work she did, she wondered if she had fooled herself. Maybe she wasn’t as fit to lead as she believed. After untold generations of lords, would the history books record her as the final ruler of House Kita?
The thought shook her, circling in her mind again and again, no matter how hard she tried to focus on anything else. She could not fail. She refused.
But the challenges continued to pile up against her. Did she even have a chance? Everywhere she looked her lands collapsed. Even her own nobles, whose support could have changed so much, were not united behind her. They might even be trying to kill her. She was being attacked by multiple enemies while her supposed allies held her hands behind her back. And now this.
A single tear broke through her frustration as she pounded the desk and stood up. She paced from one end of the room to the other in five quick steps, turning on her heel and marching back to her desk as though it was a battlefield.
In a sense, it was. Her war would not be won with steel and strength alone. Hers was fought with wits, guile, and courage. Her quill and her voice were her weapons, and despite the setbacks, she believed them every bit as strong and necessary as the soldiers under her command.
There was a knock at her door, and from the intensity of it she knew that it was Takahiro, coming to visit her once again.
What would she do without him? Not only was his support instrumental in keeping some of the nobles in line, but he always gave her the truth, and his advice, as near she could tell, had never been tinged with self-interest. With a hundred of him, she could’ve taken over all three of the house lands and restored the Kingdom to the glory it once possessed.
“Come in,” she said.
As predicted, it was Takahiro, somehow looking as though he had just gotten a full night of sleep and had taken most of the morning to clean and prepare his uniform. She had no idea how he continued to pay such attention to the details of his dress, considering the amount of work she gave him every day. She’d asked once, but he’d given a mysterious grin and refused to answer.
She was jealous of him. A quick glance at a small mirror sitting on the desk was more than enough to reveal the bags under her eyes and strands of hair falling everywhere. No matter how many times she put her hair up in the course of one day, it always seemed to come out moments later.
Takahiro took in her state at a glance, able to read more in a single look than most understood after talking with her for an entire morning. “I take it you’ve read the latest dispatches?”
She gave a small nod toward her desk. “I keep looking for news that I can hang any hope on. But no matter how much I look, everything seems to be crumbling. You’ve confirmed the information?”
“Yes. It’s been verified by several units. Isamu and his forces are pushing harder than ever, grabbing as much territory as they can as quickly as they can.”
“Is there anything we can do to stop them?”
Takahiro sighed. “Hajimi sent the blades we requested, but it won’t be in time to stem the worst of the problem. By the time the blades arrive, at the rate we’re retreating, we’re going to be back in the mountains anyway. But it should stop there, at least for a time. Isamu’s units aren’t trained or prepared to fight us in the mountains.”
Mari looked at the maps on a separate table. Almost a third of her lands would be lost by the end of the mo
on, and another third was hers only because no one had decided to attack it yet. If Katashi decided to cut the northern third of her land off, there wouldn’t be anything she could do about it. She didn’t know enough curses sufficient for the rage she felt.
Mari paced to a small cushion and sat down, forcing herself to stillness. “Is there no good news?”
Takahiro looked uncertain. “I do not know if it is good news, and I haven’t passed it on because I haven’t verified it, but it seems the numbers that Katashi is advancing with are far fewer than expected.”
Mari frowned. It could be good news, but with Katashi being as devious as he was, it could also mean he was hiding troop movements from them somehow. “Why?”
“I’m uncertain. My first guess would be that Koji’s actions behind the lines are starting to have an effect. Perhaps Katashi needed to divert some of his troops back home. It would explain a great deal. We don’t have scouts in position to monitor retreats. But Katashi hasn’t moved the forces anywhere else in our lands, so I don’t think he’s up to anything. But I can’t be sure.”
Mari leaned back on her cushion and rubbed her temples as she considered the implications before her. Her generals were looking for more guidance, a simple direction that she wasn’t willing to commit to. On one hand, she could order them forward, to fight and defend every acre of land to the best of their abilities. Otherwise, she could order them to continue to retreat, to save their strength for when it was most needed.
She leaned towards the idea of retreat. It would bring most of their units up into the mountains, where they were much better equipped and prepared than the other armies. Mari wasn’t sure how much of an advantage the terrain would be, but perhaps it was just what they needed to turn the tide of this devastating campaign.
