by Damon Glatz
Ohitekah thought for a long moment.
I need to trust my friends. I need to make decisions based on what I feel is right. I know Red can pull through. I know Nicholas will take control of the Capital. If I change my plans now, all of their work will be wasted.
"We need to make a stand," Ohitekah said quietly. "Falko... Wants to kill me. He wants to kill Daisuke. For our powers. He wants to command all five of the Mythic abilities for himself. And conquer every kingdom in the world. We can't just let that kind of person do that without a fight." Ohitekah looked at Darius. "Fighting skill or not, the warriors of the plains far outnumber Falko's army... And we will all be led by the army that my friend Red is marching down here for us. We will stand together, and defend our people. I understand that you are nervous, but you need to trust me. Like I trust my friends."
Darius glanced away and gave a solemn nod. "I understand."
"But I do see your point. I do. Tribesmen do not fight in conventional warfare tactics. And if things go badly, I imagine that is how we will continue to fight with Falko. But Falko needs to know that despite how strong or smart he is, we're not afraid of him. And we can take him head on."
Ohitekah glanced up to the sound of riders mounting their horses. They were preparing to spread the word of the battle to come. One rider in each direction.
"This is our last chance," Darius said, watching the men on the horses. "If they leave, there's no turning back."
Ohitekah nodded.
"We're sticking to the plan."
Daisuke stood at the base of the palace steps. The same steps he walked down the day he was banished. The impressive marble staircase climbed through the main gate of the Immortal Palace. Behind him stood over a hundred of his own samurai, the Blood Red Spades. They had already fought through a garrison of men on their march through the streets of the city. The rest of the samurai were stationed inside the palace walls.
Had this been any other invasion, this small force of men would have stood no chance against the strength of the Immortal Palace. But this was different. The men inside would not dare fire an arrow over the walls, no man was foolish enough to draw his blade.
Because leading this small band of samurai. Was a man with a flaming sword.
The man thought to have vanished into legend. The man every samurai in the capital feared the most. The one man the current Shogun dreaded like no other.
The banished Shogun Daisuke Yoshimori, with his black katana, Kaminoshi.
Daisuke took a step up the marble staircase.
“Fire!” A brave command was shouted behind the wall. Daisuke was now one step inside the boundaries of the palace. Regardless of how intimidating their attacker was, the guards were honor bound to defend their Emperor’s home.
A thousand arrows were released at once. Mythic or not, no one was allowed to attack the capital. Without Daisuke moving a muscle, there was a wall of fire that shredded through the air that destroyed the volley of oncoming arrows.
"I demand an audience with the Emperor." He spoke loudly when the smoke had cleared. He continued his calm steps up the staircase. His men marching in formation behind him. The gates remained closed. Daisuke raised his palm to the gates and sent a blast that blew them off the wall. The explosion shook the ground of the entire city.
The Emperor's samurai lined up at the mouth of the wall. Daisuke continued to walk toward them; the blaze licking the length of his sword.
He lifted his hand toward the men, threatening an attack. They stood fast, none wavering.
These men are well trained.
There was an order shouted from the back of the men. The samurai stood at attention and parted in their center. Daisuke lowered his arm.
A man rode forward, at his side was a banner. A gold lotus on an emerald flag, the banner of the new family of Shogun. Holding power since Ashikaga handed it over for two hundred years.
He is afraid. He knows his rule is a fraud. His family has been pretending for years. Ruing the day I returned to set things right.
"Is it true?" The new shogun stated. "Are you Daisuke Yoshimori?"
"I am." His blade still burning at his side. Never lowering his guard.
"I am Shogun Tokugawa Tsunayoshi. The emperor demands your presence in his temple. Stand down and you will be allowed entrance. Only you, Daisuke."
Daisuke looked back to his men who stood in steady battle position. Ready for any command.
"I will meet him peacefully, on the condition me and my men are promised safe exit from the city after the meeting. Regardless of its outcome."
"Agreed."
Daisuke sheathed his sword. His fire extinguished. He walked up the stairs alone, his men lowered their weapons as well, standing at firm attention. The Shogun on the horse turned and rode into the castle. Daisuke walked through the enemy ranks, they stood still, unmoving as he passed through.
He could see it. The hall of the Emperor. His objective. His only chance to save his friends.
"There." Ohitekah turned to Sierra and Darius. "The last of the riders just left. It’s time for us to go."
Sierra glanced behind her. Mae was watching them, as usual.
"Agreed."
Darius paused, looking at the ground. Ohitekah and Sierra watched him for a moment, waiting for him to speak.
"I'm staying here."
"What?" Ohitekah stepped forward.
He looked up sharply. "If we're sticking to the original plan, someone needs to train these men. More warriors are going to arrive every day, someone needs to stay and lead them."
Sierra nodded. "You're right. I was thinking the same."
Darius stared at them.
"Just until you come back. They need organization. I'll keep them in check. But don't take too long. I'm not sure how long I can keep everyone from fighting one another."
Ohitekah glanced down. "Yeah. Understood."
I should be the one staying here. These are my people.
"We're going to see Nicholas," Sierra started. "And coming straight back here. Just keep things under control. Maybe teach ‘em a thing or two."
"Of course, Sierra." Darius gave a bow to each of them. "Good luck you two, see you soon."
Ohitekah and Sierra mounted their horses.
"Thank you, Darius," Ohitekah said quietly. "I owe you one."
"You owe me more than that."
Lance walked through the doors of the temple. Just outside his castle home, in the city of Magnus, was the Temple of the God of the Sun. It was late, the hall was empty. Lance strode inside and stood alone in the darkness.
“My good King!” The high priestess spoke quietly as she approached him. “You honor us with a visit so recently after your coronation. Come to worship at the altar of the Sun?”
Lance shook his head. “No, not today.” He looked up and studied the engraving of the stone wall before him. The carved depiction of the God of War, a flaming body donning elaborate armor, riding the chariot of fire across the heavens. His whip of flame striking the stallions before him. “I actually had a question for you. Concerning our God.”
“We devote our lives to the study and worship of our Lord, you have come to the right place.” She bowed to him. “Ask what you must.”
“The Fire Mythic, the tool of the Gods itself, how does our God have no power over it? How can he defy us?”
She nodded. “We have been asking this for hundreds of years. But, the God of the Sun created his Mythic by sacrificing his own powers on this plane to birth a creature of his form. The original Mythics followed the will of their creators. But, the gods were afraid that if the creatures were somehow killed, their powers would be lost for all time. So, they created them with the ability to pass their powers on to those that may best them, which preserves the power on this plane forever, and theoretically, the Mythics would only get stronger throughout the ages, the weak ones only being beaten by the strong. However, humans were created with free will, they could not be as easily controlled
as the beasts. And, seeing how our God had forsaken his powers on the human plane to create the Mythic, he had no earthly way to reign him in. That is how Daisuke has been able to exist for so long.”
Lance paced back and forth across the stone temple as she spoke, nodding and listening. “Yes, that was my understanding of it as well. However, the Gods still have their powers on other planes, correct?”
“Yes,” she stated. “The Underworld below, and the Overworld above. All the Gods retain their full power on those planes, they are, however, powerless on this plane and must use their Mythics for their bidding here.”
Such a risk, Lance thought to himself. Why create Mythics on Earth that they can barely control? Why not just exercise their power themselves?
“If you can forgive my asking King Lance, but what brings this sudden interest in our God and his Mythic?”
Lance cleared his throat. “Do you think…the Gods could create another Mythic, by sacrificing their powers from another plane?”
She fumbled to find her words “I, um...” She shook her head. “I am not one to consider the will of the Gods. What they can or can’t do. But why?” She hesitated and stared at Lance. “You would… You would have them make you a Mythic? You seek to battle with the Flame Mythic once again?”
Lance looked away. “If they could sacrifice their powers on this plane to create a Mythic, there is no reason to think it would be impossible for them to do it again, using their powers from another.” He turned and approached her, she trembled as he strode towards her. “The Sun God wants Daisuke dead as much as I do. I have the blade now to match him, but I still don’t have the power I need to be his equal. If I could speak to the God of the Sun, perhaps we could make a deal.”
“We are mortals!” She cried “We are not ones to make deals with the divine!”
“He wants a Mythic that will obey his commands. I want the power to destroy my enemies. How can I speak to the Sun?”
She shook her head. “I can’t, I won’t. We are nothing compared to them, The God of the Sun would never listen to you.”
Lance grabbed her by the shoulders and squeezed tightly, “I have seen the Goddess of the Sea, on her knees, begging a mortal to spare her child, the Water Mythic. They can be reasoned with, they can even make deals with humans. Now tell me. Where is he?”
Her lips quivered. She looked down at the floor. “The volcano.” She spoke softly “Reach the summit, and stare into the red abyss. There, if he chooses to, he can speak with you.”
Lance dropped her and she fell to the floor. He looked up and out of the temple doors. He smiled.
“Soon Daisuke, we shall truly fight at last.”
Chapter Twenty Five
The Game of Kings
"The tax increase has been taken with a surprising level of acceptance," an old man spoke to the Senate Hall as he read from a scroll.
Galius glanced around the room. The "advisor" had been speaking about nothing in particular for a while. Not even Falko was paying attention.
Falko was seated in a large chair near the floor of the chamber. This advisor hearing was done out of tradition now. The senators were used to meeting once a week to discuss stately affairs. The meetings were continued to keep the advisors happy. Usually, however, at least Falko pretended to listen to them.
He's planning something. His eyes are distant, he's more quiet than usual.
"Farmers from the eastern hills are reporting an above average crop this season."
How many people even know he's the Earth Mythic? He has yet to make a statement. Is that part of his plan?
"And the opera has even stated higher numbers than usual since they began staging plays about you, your highness."
Oh, how horrible this must be for you, Falko. The Emperor of a nation, Mythic, still stuck listening to old men bicker about Operas and taxes. How long until even your advisors are no more?
"Rufus." Falko looked up. "That is all for today." He waved his hand around lazily.
"Yes, your highness. Of course." Rufus bowed and shuffled over to his seat.
Got tired already Emperor?
"You are all dismissed." Falko and the rest of the advisors stood. Galius turned to walk down the aisle towards the exit. "Wait a moment, Galius. I would like a word with you."
Galius paused his steps, he turned to face the Emperor.
"Of course. Do you need something?"
The rest of the ex-senators filed out of the auditorium. Leaving only Falko, Galius, and a handful of soldiers.
"Do you play Kings?" Falko turned to face him, his tone changing.
Galius walked down to the center of the room.
"Of course. It’s a favorite of mine."
Falko reached into a pocket of his and pulled out a sack that clicked when it moved. It was a bag of board pieces, his personal set.
"Mine as well. I grew up playing it. They even teach its strategy in the military."
"I am aware." They squared off in the center of the chamber. For a moment, staring down one another. Falko waved his hand and his men carried over a wooden table and game-board, with two chairs. Falko motioned for Galius to take a seat.
"I'm sorry." Galius spoke, "I don't carry my pieces on me."
"That’s quite alright." Falko waved again. Another soldier stepped forward and dropped another bag of pieces on the board. Galius recognized them immediately. "We took the liberty of retrieving these from your home. To save you the trouble."
They've been through my home. I expected this. There is nothing incriminating there, I keep everything at the base.
"I guess I should thank you then." Galius calmly walked over to one of the walls of the room before sitting down at the game table. He grabbed a quill that was resting on a desk and dabbed it in ink. In a rushed movement, he scrawled something quickly onto his King Red Spade playing card and slid it back into his pocket. He turned to face Falko who was watching him intently. Galius walked back over to the table Falko's men were preparing for them in the center of the room.
Galius glanced down at his sack of pieces that Falko had brought to him. He gave Falko a look before picking them up.
"Don't worry." He smiled. "I didn't peak."
Part of the strategy of Kings was the piece selection. Every player uses their own set, combination, and layout of pieces.
"Good, I expected at least that from you." Galius smiled. He emptied the bag onto his lap, the edge of the table obscuring Falko's view. Falko did the same.
What is this really about? He wants more than just a Kings game with me.
Falko began setting up his side of the board. Galius kept his eyes on his side and began preparing his end.
Kings was an ancient game, born from Ashland. There are many possible pieces to the game, each of them with their own rules, and some better than others. Each piece has an assigned weight number to it, the stronger the piece, the heavier the weight. Each side of the board can only weigh a total of twenty-five. So each player picks the combination of pieces whose combined weight do not surpass that number, yet best suit their strategy. They can also arrange them any way they desire on the back two rows of the board. This makes every opponent different.
A pawn, for instance, has a weight of one. A ship piece, which is very maneuverable in the game, has a weight of four. So you could have four extra pawns on your side or a single ship. The tactic of balancing your personal setup is a complicated process. There are a number of playable pieces, and after some experience, players understand what suits their style the best.
Masters of the game have their own customized piece set, made only for them. They have usually spent years formulating their strategies, and they know exactly what piece combination they prefer, and how they like their pieces set up.
"Do you prefer tournament rules? Or traditional?" Galius asked while setting up his men.
"Traditional," Falko mentioned while putting his pieces in place. "It's more… Personal."
Over the years the
game has evolved, creating two sets of rules. Focusing on how the game is ended. Traditional rules have no set end. The game is played until one side admits defeat, at a time it is clear to both players one of them has lost, and any attempt at continuing to fight will result in a more disgraceful loss of all your men.
Galius finished placing his last marble piece. This set was made personally for him by a member of the Blood Red Spades. Carved by hand from smooth red stone. This has been his favorite starting position of himself for many years. He's used it to beat every member of the Spades he has played against. Galius personally preferred this game over any card game. Despite the Spades history.
Falko motioned with his hand. "It’s your move."
In traditional rules, the player who initiated the challenge moves second. In this case being Falko, who invited Galius to play.
Galius studied his opponents starting position. Falko's pieces were carved from stone as well. Black marble with gold details, they matched the stone from the board. It must be his personal set. Galius looked at their positioning.
Falko is using a very offensive set. Ships, cavalry, lots of pawns... A saboteur.
A Saboteur was one of two special pieces, you could only use one of these on your side in a game. A saboteur could not take another piece, and it moved slowly. However, if it was able to cross to the enemy edge of the board, it could become any piece that had been previously captured in the game. While still only having the weight of two. Making it a risky gamble.
Galius is using only a few pawns, Falko thought to himself. Most of his pieces are higher weights, he values skill over numbers. Perfect, he is even using a Mythic.
A Mythic is the heaviest weight a piece can be, with a weight of nine. It is the strongest piece in the game, being able to move further and more dynamically than any other. Using one is very risky, as usually the opponent tries very hard to capture it early. An added threat is if the Mythic is captured by a pawn, that pawn becomes a Mythic. This is designed to mimic the threat of fighting with a Mythic in reality. Something the Ashland army learned many years ago.
