by Travis Bughi
Down the center of the throne room, a plush wide green carpet rolled across the stone floor to the foot of a five-stepped altar atop which sat Lady Xuan's throne. A multitude of thick silk pillows adorned the seat, each one beautifully dyed and embroidered with flowers, symbols, or patterns of intricate and skillful design. Arched windows along the northern wall commanded a wonderful view of the land beyond the mountain, and elegant tapestries hung from ceiling to floor between them.
Meanwhile, Lady Xuan was fuming.
“He told you what?” she yelled. “Pircha allowed you to come here? Is that what he said?”
This was the first thing the old woman said to Takeo.
Right after he was admitted to her throne room and Pircha left, Takeo had expressed his gratitude for being allowed an audience with her. Now, in the face of her anger, he tried to explain.
“The Lord Pircha said he sent for you, and—”
“Sent for me!” Lady Xuan said and coughed. “That little kappa! Hear me now, Takeo, not one of my sons sends me anywhere. I send them, and I specifically sent Pircha to bring you. That’s right, like a common household servant. It serves to remind him who’s in charge here, though it sounds like he needs a stronger lesson. Hmf! The wretch must have been trying to save face in front of the men. If I still had the strength, I’d bend him over my knee and spank his cheeks red. By the sound of it, he sorely needs it, and I hope he’s right on the other side of that door listening, too. By all that is good in this world, why wasn’t he the one who was captured?”
Lady Xuan sighed, but Takeo remained silent, his body kneeling, his forehead a finger’s breadth from the ground. If she expected him to join in and bash Pircha’s character, she would be sorely disappointed. There wasn’t much of a difference between royalty and a disgruntled wife, once one got to the bottom of it all. One should never join in when a lord or spouse was insulting their own family, not unless one wished for a slow death.
“Oh stop that,” Lady Xuan said. “Rise up. My back hurts just watching you.”
Takeo did as commanded.
“As I said before,” the samurai said with a nod, “you have my sincere gratitude for accepting me, Lady Xuan. I cannot thank you enough. I must admit, I was a little hesitant to come this far. There was a time when you offered money to have me dead.”
“Yes, well, that’s water under the bridge now.” Lady Xuan waved a frail hand as if the matter were of no concern. “At the time, I couldn’t be sure of your allegiance. I thought you were still loyal to Katsu, and I feared he was using you for something dastardly. Better safe than sorry.”
Takeo found himself nodding in agreement, despite the fact that he was agreeing to the necessity of his own death.
“Now, to business, please,” the ancient woman said with a smile. “To my understanding, you were last in Juatwa many years ago. Yet now you’ve returned home, and with such strange company. My guards tell me some lesser oni is with you? Called an ogre? Most intriguing, even for a woman my age. I’m not entirely certain what brought you to my lovely doorstep, but I am quite curious.”
“Really?” Takeo asked, raising an eyebrow. “I hadn’t thought myself that interesting, honestly.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.” Lady Xuan frowned. “If the legends tell true, Takeo, you’re an exceptional fighter, but what good is that to me if you lack loyalty? You’re nothing but a hopeless ronin, I’m afraid, and your legacy will die with you. I am curious, but not about you or why you’re here. What’s that look in your eye? Did I offend you? Oh, stop! I’m not insulting you. I speak the truth, and you know it.”
Takeo averted his gaze. Lady Xuan’s words did echo his thoughts. He’d been thinking along those exact same lines ever since Ichiro Katsu had sold him into slavery. Without a lord, Takeo was just a skilled swordsman, and it didn’t matter if he was the most skilled swordsmen in the entire world. He was like a gunslinger’s pistol, deadly, but only if set to a purpose.
“So, if you don’t care why I’m here,” Takeo asked, head bowed, “what are you curious about?”
“I’m glad you asked,” Lady Xuan continued, smacking her lips and then raising a finger. “There is one way you’ll be remembered, if only in spirit. You will live on as that dark and mysterious warrior who assisted the Angels’ Vassal.”
And just like that, it all clicked for Takeo.
“You only wanted to see me to hear how Emily died.”
“Ah, ah! Close, but it’s not just that. One more thing. What is it?”
Takeo thought for a moment, glancing up, but he couldn’t come up with an answer before the old woman lost her patience.
“Her story! Her life!” Lady Xuan cackled. “Was that really so hard to figure out? Think, Takeo. You personally knew the woman who could control a colossus. One of the angels granted her that power and killed himself so that she could live. What else would I possibly care to hear about from you?”
She laughed, and Takeo sighed, letting his head hang again.
Always, it’s always about that damned colossus. Why? Why does it always have to come down to power? Was no one satisfied unless they ruled over others?
“You want the angels’ creation for yourself?” he stated more than asked. “Strange. I seem to recall once upon a time you told Emily, in a handwritten letter, that you didn’t plan on conquering the world. What changed?”
“Nothing,” Lady Xuan huffed, a flash of anger in her old eyes, “though even if I did hold such desires, what would it matter to you? Judging by the way you’re sitting before me here, Takeo, the world hasn’t given you much at all. No family, wealth, or even loved ones. Those you had were taken from you. What would it hurt if someone like me were to conquer this world where mercenaries, blood, and violence thrive? Hm? Is that truly such a terrible thing?”
Takeo paused. Although he’d heard this argument before, it was somehow the first time his brain was processing it.
It actually made good sense, but he shook his head.
“It’s irrelevant anyway,” Takeo said. “It’s as you thought, as Emily said. The angel, Quartus, gave control of the colossus to her when he died. He more or less gave his soul to her, and since she took that soul with her when she died, the power over the colossus is lost. That stone statue will never move again, at least not on its own.”
“Pity,” Lady Xuan replied. “I’ll have to quell these rebellions the old fashioned way, then.”
A part of Takeo wanted to raise a counterpoint to that last statement. Rebellion wasn’t the proper word. As rumor had it, the people Lady Xuan was fighting were the Hanu and Katsu families. Takeo wanted to ask how she could consider them in rebellion when they’d never been under her rule to begin with.
Then he remembered he still had a favor to ask and kept his mouth shut.
“Well, I’ll still have the rest of the story, then,” Lady Xuan said. “I want to know who this girl was, this Emily Stout, from someone who knows the truth. Such a brief life the girl lived, and yet how strongly she shaped this world. I would like to know her, beginning to end.”
“As you command,” Takeo said, bowing again to show respect. “However, first, I’d like to make my request. I came here for my own reason, if you’ll recall? I know you don’t care about it, but it’s deeply important to me.”
Lady Xuan glared as if Takeo were purposely being difficult. He tried not to take offense. He narrowly succeeded.
“What is it, then, ronin?”
“Like you wish to know Emily’s past, so do I seek to know my own. I never knew my father or mother, nor their names, nor what they did. They could still be alive for all I know. I never asked, and I was never told. I think that the late Lord Katsu knew, though, and with your permission, I’d like to ask some of your prisoners who were close to him. Perhaps one of them can give me some direction.”
To Takeo’s surprise, Lady Xuan’s expression transformed into a wicked smile. It shifted slowly, peeling back thin layers of wrinkled skin until a spar
se row of gums and a few remaining teeth revealed themselves. Even from a few paces away, the distinct scent of old skin, musty hair, and bad breath assaulted his nostrils. Out of respect, he parted his lips to breathe through his mouth, determined not to cough.
“You don’t know?” she asked, nearly whispering.
“No,” Takeo answered.
“Okamoto had to know. He had to. I always thought it strange that you two served Katsu. You truly know nothing of your father?”
“Nothing,” Takeo answered again.
“Wow,” she said, and then paused for what felt like ages. “That’s a shame. You see, Takeo, I do know who your father was, and what happened to him.”
“Can you tell me?” he asked.
The hunger in his tone was palpable. He hadn’t expected to learn the truth so easily and readily. Over many years, he’d built up this mystery in his head about his origins. He had expected to find whispers, rumors, or perhaps even a cave drawing within a hollowed rock that pointed to a secret chamber guarded by the king of all oni and an army of deranged akki.
To think that all he sought was here before him, lying across a pile of pillows. It seemed almost cheap.
“What will it take?” he asked.
“Why don’t you start with giving me what I want,” Lady Xuan said, “and then we’ll discuss the other topic.”
Takeo hesitated. He thought to haggle a bit more but realized he’d already handed over his greatest bargaining chips. Not only had he mistakenly revealed how hungry he was for this knowledge, but he’d also already explained that the colossus could not be commanded.
It was a good thing he hadn’t been born a merchant.
Thinking he had nothing to lose, Takeo launched into yet another story, one he was becoming well practiced at, telling it from beginning to end, starting with Emily’s birth on the Great Plains, and ending with her death in Lucifan’s dungeon.
“The rakshasa, Jabbar,” Takeo said, voice seizing up for a moment. “He ripped out her liver and tried to eat it. The basilisk poison in her blood killed him. By the time I reached her, he was dead. Emily died in my arms.”
“Parting words of love?” Lady Xuan asked, her voice teetering between curiosity and sympathy.
“Yes,” Takeo whispered, lowering his head until his hair covered his eyes. “Until the end.”
“I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but you should remember that not all of us are so lucky to say goodbye. Some loved ones are taken from us before we get the chance to tell them we loved them just one last time. I’ve lost two husbands, Takeo. Know that I feel your pain.”
Takeo closed his eyes, and a single tear squeezed its way out from between his lids. It splattered on the plush carpet beneath him, heard only because the room was deathly silent. One deep breath later and Takeo stemmed the rest of his tears.
“There’s nothing I can do about that now,” he said. “No sympathy, please. It would shame me. Now, can you tell me who my father was?”
“I can, and I will,” Lady Xuan said, “but there is a problem.”
“Problem?” Takeo repeated.
“Well, not a problem, actually,” the old woman said with a frown, “more like a solution. You’ll remember I called you a hopeless ronin?”
“All too well.”
“It’s because you are one. However, you are also an exceptionally skilled ronin. I’ve heard the legends, Takeo, of how you have slain a minotaur single-handedly in Lucifan, faced an oni one on one in Juatwa, and the other stories of how you’ve faced as many as three men at once and slayed them all. If those legends are even half true, then I am in need of someone with your skills. I’m also in need of someone with your reputation: an honorless sellsword who leaves a pool of blood in his wake.”
“If you need an assassin, hire a ninja.”
“Oh, if only it were that simple.” The old woman chuckled. “No. No, this is much, much worse. What I need accomplished will require a team of hardened warriors, which I’m told you have, headed by a man of both determination and knowledge of the task at hand. Not many of my warriors have left Juatwa, you see. Fewer still possess your skill. Of those, all of them are known to be fiercely loyal to me.”
“I don’t mean to be rude, Lady Xuan, but is there a reason you’re dragging this out? Where do you want me to go?”
“Have you heard what’s happening in Savara these days?”
Takeo stared blankly. He had, but he wanted Lady Xuan to think otherwise. He wanted to hear what she had heard. She obliged.
“After Jabbar died, two things happened. First, the land was plunged into chaos. According to rumor, the Savara of a few years ago was stable compared to what it is now. Second, the rakshasas are being exterminated. Every warlord outlaws their existence and kills them on sight. Bounties for rakshasa heads are being put up everywhere. Their kind is being hunted into extinction.”
“Good,” Takeo said.
“Really? That is your response?” Lady Xuan asked. “Well, I suppose that’s to be expected. Ronin tend to be shortsighted, not to mention what the last rakshasa you knew did. I guess it’s only natural you’d want their kind dead.”
An unexpected pause rolled over the conversation. The old woman sat draped in an expensive yet comfortable kimono sprawled out amongst her countless cushions and pillows, while before her sat a young warrior, resting on his shins with fists propped up on his knees, dirty from years of travel and heartbroken from a life none would envy. Yet neither blamed the other for their birth. They both understood they were merely tiny pieces in the great and terrible game of life.
If there was a difference between them, it was that Takeo wasn’t happy with how he’d been played.
“What do you care about rakshasas?” he asked. “What is their struggle to you?”
“I envy their prowess.” Lady Xuan shrugged. “Also, unlike you, I don’t want to see their race ended. I want something else entirely. I want a rakshasa—two actually, one male and one female—captured and brought to me. Alive.”
Takeo balked, faltering despite being seated. His chin dropped, but he quickly snapped his mouth shut so as not to show disrespect. Still though, he reeled.
“You want me to do what?” Takeo asked, unable to hide the disbelief in his tone. “Please forgive me, but have you gone mad in your old age?”
Lady Xuan cackled and coughed, smiling large enough to scrunch up all the wrinkles in her face, which cracked some of her makeup. She brought a withered hand up to cover her coughs.
“Now that’s the response I expected,” she said. “Ambitious, is it not?”
“Ambitious? No, Lady, insane. You said I’d need a team,” Takeo pressed, “but for what you’re suggesting, I’d need an army. My three companions and I could kill a single rakshasa, barring some casualties, and bring you its severed head or skinned corpse, but to capture two rakshasas alive and bring them to you, I’d need at least fifty men. If you want the truth, even if you gave me those fifty, I’d probably use them to slay every rakshasa I found and burn their bodies to ash, rather than bring one of them to you alive.”
“As I said, ronin are terribly shortsighted.”
Lady Xuan sighed and another long pause ensued.
Takeo realized that the old woman was still awaiting a reply. He thought he had declined, but when thinking over his words, he realized he hadn’t. He opened his mouth to do so, but different words came out.
“Two live rakshasas in exchange for one family story is hardly a fair trade.”
“Not just two rakshasas,” Lady Xuan said and raised her chin, “one male and one female. They must be able to breed.”
A cold chill ran up Takeo’s spine, and his blood pulsed thick in his veins. He suppressed the urge to reach for where his sword would be.
“If you intend to breed an army,” he trailed off.
“Oh, come now!” Lady Xuan shouted. “Do I look like a fool, Takeo? Am I not the woman who engineered the demise of Jiro Hanu and Ichiro Kats
u? How can you possibly think I’d want an army of those beasts? From only two no less? I’d die before I had twenty of them in decent fighting shape. No, you fool, I don’t intend to breed an army. Hmf! I only want to breed another male and female so I can attempt to tame them. The parents will be disposed of along with their kin in Savara. I wouldn’t trust a rakshasa alive today any further than I could throw one. Does that satisfy your fears?”
Takeo averted his eyes and stayed quiet. Lady Xuan took this as a yes to her question.
“Now,” she continued, calm once more, “as far as the price goes, you are right. The balance is not even. That’s why I intend to sweeten the deal. I offer you this: either you will be granted a sum worthy of the deed so you can go off and indulge in lewd desires until you die of debased happiness, or you will be granted an honorable place in my armies, a title, and a home where you can move on with your life and avoid the fate of dying nameless in a shallow grave. Either way, you will get the story of the Karaoshi family as it was before your brother reclaimed it.”
Takeo thought this over, or at least he tried to. He pictured himself sailing back to Savara with the intention of capturing a rakshasa. It seemed an insane idea, so impossible that he shook the image away. Such a journey was doomed. He’d have even less of a chance of coming out alive than had Emily when she’d undertook her journey, and she had died twice.
Not to mention that every time he pictured a rakshasa, the only thing that logically followed was to kill it. He hated their kind. They all deserved to die.
And what of the others? Gavin, Nicholas, and Krunk. Would they join him? They had said they would, but that was before they knew what this journey might entail. Nicholas would come, probably. Like most young vikings, he thought himself immortal. Krunk would follow Gavin, and Takeo had a gut feeling that Gavin was determined to stay by Takeo’s side for whatever reason. Takeo still hadn’t figured that out.
That meant that if Takeo accepted this task, and the three of them followed and died, those deaths would be on his hands. The entire plan seemed doomed to failure. It was impossible, purely insane, and utterly ambitious. Surely only death awaited those who accepted such a quest.
