by DB King
Makashi grumbled something under his breath, but nodded nonetheless. He couldn’t exactly deny Uemuji’s words—not without making himself look like a total buffoon. Besides, the old man was right. The foreigners were loyal to their cause—even to the point of murdering children, a line which most Moyatani members were still unsure of. But neither Lorraine nor Mordelo hesitated when they figured out the vessel’s identity being that of a child.
Makashi could never bring himself to kill a defenseless child, no matter the reason or the situation. He just couldn’t. The mere idea sent chills running down his spine and a pool of bile rising up his throat. Murasaki Jin was a child who needed to die for the sake of the world. Only the foreigners had risen up to the task back then.
“I still don’t trust them,” He said. “The fact that they’re so willing to harm a child, a powerful child though he may be, is still beyond reason – to me, at least.”
Uemuji nodded. “It is good that you feel that way, Makashi. It is easy to lose one’s self of morality in times of crisis. However, the Dark One is beyond morality, beyond reason, beyond logic, beyond anything remotely human. He will kill and destroy again and again and again until there is nothing left of the world but a barren land of corpses. The Kensei is weaker than him, despite all the stories. If the Light falls, then so does the world.”
Makashi shook his head. “I know the stakes, old man. It’s just… I have a son. He should be around the same age as Murasaki Jin and I don’t think I can not as easily as the foreigners could, at least.”
“It is alright to have doubts, Makashi,” Uemuji dropped his quill and looked toward the younger man, whose face was riddled with indecision. Their eyes met for a moment. “I have had many children and I loved each and every one of them with all of my heart. And, though it pains me to even remember, I have slain numerous children as well.”
Makashi sighed. “How can they do it so easily? How can you? Children are weak and defenseless. They are innocent creatures.”
“I never claimed to be capable of easily killing children, Makashi, but I can do so, begrudgingly, when I have to.” Uemuji had a distant look on his face. “Do you know why we are confident that we can break the prophecy before it ever happens? Do you know why we’re bothering to do all this, even when fate itself stands against us?”
Makashi's eyes answered for him, though the man himself stood motionless.
“This isn’t the first time the Order has gone after a vessel of the Dark One,” Uemuji said simply, eyes fluttering softly. The old man never quite bothered with the obscuring shadows that most members of the Order placed over their faces. “There have been three other vessels in the last five hundred years. The Order had them killed before the moment of their joining. For the last five hundred years, we have prevented the return of the one who would destroy the world in his rage. They were all children, for the Dark One could not join with them until the appointed time.”
“Helpless… defenseless children… one was killed in its crib, choked to death and crushed to ensure it would never rise again. Another was drowned and chopped to pieces. The third one was burned to death, until even its bones became ashes. All of them were vessels, and all of them were of the Murasaki Clan.” The old man had a distant look on his face, like he had suddenly aged a hundred years more. “I killed all of them, Makashi. They were innocent little things that had done no wrong. They’d done nothing to deserve the fate that’d befallen them and yet they had to die all the same.”
“But,” Uemuji paused, “do you know what this means, Makashi?”
The younger man shook his head.
“This means that we can stop the prophecy as many times as we can!” The old man laughed, almost proudly. “We can stop the Dark One’s return again and again. We can prevent the end of the world, the end of everything. If all I have to do is to kill a few children every three hundred years or so, then I will gladly do that.”
“This Murasaki Jin will die, just as his ancestors died.” Uemuji said with a tone of finality. “He will die and we will save the world as we’ve always done. Such is the way of things, Makashi.”
“And what if we fail?” the young man asked. “What happens if he escapes or somehow bonds with the Dark One before the appointed time? After all, didn’t the seers predict his death at the burning of the Murasaki stronghold? I saw the visions. I saw him die at the hands of Lorraine and Mordelo and yet that did not happen.”
“If we fail, then…” Uemuji’s face darkened. The old man clutched something in his chest, a particularly large pendant that resembled a winged octopus of some kind. “Then the world will be undone. That cannot happen. This world must survive until—”
The old man paused. Makashi’s eyes narrowed. “Until what?”
“Until the stars are right, my boy,” The old man spoke ominously. “Until the stars are right…”
Chapter 23
“Report!” Jin wasted no more words. Gone was the child-mage prodigy and here was the Mage-Emperor who commanded a thousand nations to battle. The scout stiffened, his body going rigid almost by instinct. His right hand snapped up to his chest in a sloppy salute. Jin raised a single eyebrow. “Begin with troop numbers. How many of them are there?”
“I estimated around five thousand enemy soldiers, my lord!” the scout replied, raising his chin high and avoiding eye contact.
Ebisu, who’d stood near the wall, arms across his chest, merely tilted his head to the side, as though the whole thing was boring him. Then again, Jin mused, this whole talk of military strategies and troop movements was probably incredibly boring to someone of Ebisu’s age. Children weren’t usually brought into military command centers, but Ebisu was the heir to his father’s fief. Now was the best time for him to learn the horrific realities of war, if nothing else.
The heir of Hirata stepped forward and then turned to face Jin with an uncaring look in his eyes. “Master, we could take all of them. Five thousand doesn’t seem too much. The two of us could probably take them all on.”
Jin shook his head, gesturing for the scout to stand at ease as he turned to Ebisu. “Look, my student, we don’t know the full army composition. We don’t know anything beyond mere numbers, as yet. What if we jump and a host of mages ambushes us?”
Ebisu nodded slowly, digesting the information. “I see, master. Forgive my impudence.”
The young boy turned to the scout and lowered his head. “Please, continue. I want to know more about our enemy.”
Jin smiled. Ebisu was a surprisingly fast learner. At the very least, he was smart enough to put aside his pride when needed. Jin had lost count of how many powerful men and women had died in idiotic ways, just because they were too dumb to know when they’re beaten, too prideful to consider a tactical retreat, too driven by their emotions to not attack at all.
He didn’t want his protégé making the same mistake as those fools from his previous world. “Continue, and spare no detail, good man.”
“There were only around five hundred horses, my lord, and I noted no siege equipment of any kind,” The scout continued recalling everything he’d seen. He seemed to fidget in Jin’s and Ebisu’s presence, like a peasant in the presence of a king or an emperor. Jin shook his head and gestured for the man to continue. “All of the infantrymen wore armor. I didn’t get a good look as I was afraid they might see me, but I did note that nearly all of them wore padded clothes and were mostly armed with spears, while some wore wooden armor and carried swords. There were no bushi among them. At least, I didn’t see any. And I saw no flag or banner with which they were marked.”
Jin raised an eyebrow. If a bushi wasn’t leading the enemy host, then it was very likely that this war band wasn’t sanctioned by any lord or clan, especially since they carried no banners or flags. Were they bandits? Were they mercenaries?
Everything suddenly seemed a tiny bit suspicious. Neither bandits nor mercenaries were capable of marching out this far inland without a long baggage train
, especially if their host numbered around five thousand soldiers. They would need the support of a rich noble for them to pull that off and yet there were no flags or banners involved. No Moyatani noble would shame themselves by hiding their family crest. Something didn’t seem quite right.
“They made camp around twenty five miles from the Sleeping Woods,” The scout finished. “I believe they’ll try to walk through the forest or go around it soon, my lord. They can’t make camp in the Serpent’s Pass forever. They’ll have to move quickly or the lot of them will be eaten by… well, things that dwell in the darkness.”
Ah, people still believed that nonsense about shadow demons in the Serpent’s Pass?
Jin merely nodded, before turning to look at the map. If the enemy army decided to push through the Sleeping Woods, it’ll take them at least two weeks to get to Hirata, assuming they passed unmolested, but Yojimbo had other plans. If they chose to go around the Sleeping Woods, which was honestly the smart thing to do, considering all the Magical Beasts that refused to leave after the Wendigo’s winter tantrum, it’ll take them around a month of constant marching to even come close to Hirata. Even then, they’d have to willfully turn back west to reach his village, instead of following the river and heading straight for Muteba castle.
Jin’s eyes narrowed. “Ebisu, take note of this. If they choose to go around the forest, then chances are they’re not interested in Hirata and we’ll simply not attack them—not yet, anyway. However, if they do push through the woodlands, they’ll end up right at our doorstep, which means it is very likely that they will attack our home.”
Ebisu nodded, but otherwise stayed quiet as Jin’s eyes fluttered over to the scout. “Tell Yojimbo to keep eyes on them at all times.”
The man saluted once more. Jin continued, “Keep me informed of their movements. Whether or not they decide to move through the Sleeping Woods is the determining factor as to when we’ll attack them. Return to Yojimbo with all haste and tell him to prepare for an attack regardless.”
The scout bowed. “As you wish, my lord!”
He then exited Jin’s tent.
As the man left, Jin sighed and turned to Ebisu. “Remind me again why we’re in a tent and not at the manor? I’m not complaining, mind you, but I am curious. You didn’t want me stepping a single foot in that place from the moment I arrived. In fact, no one’s in there—not even the servants.”
Ebisu stiffened, absently turning his shoulders toward the manor’s general direction. He then sighed. The boy seemed to deflate somewhat. His baggy eyes showed, despite his natural regeneration. “Do you not recall the nightmare at all, master?”
Jin leaned back and closed his eyes. The wheels of his mind turned backward. Once more, he reached for his memories of that night. He and Arima had a brief conversation, where his uncle had made him promise to protect the village and its people. Jin remembered that one quite well. And when his uncle went to sleep for the night, Jin had taken a bottle of sake and drank, far from the eyes of the servants and the guards. He drank and went up the stairs as well. He walked through the hallways toward his room and—
Nothing.
Jin’s mind turned blank and black after that. The mere act of thinking about it, digging through his memories, brought about pangs of searing pains across his head, like a dagger through his skull. It burned and throbbed, and Jin found himself with no choice but to retreat, leaving his darkened memories alone. There was something actively keeping him from remembering something—an entity with enough power to actually mess with his mind. The thought irked him, both Jin and Valden hated having their minds explored by others.
After walking up the stairs, Jin’s memories would simply cut and leap further to when Yojimbo’s men found him in the river and he’d briefly awakened as they took him into their secret encampment. His mind flowed clear after that, no more headaches or blank memories.
He shook his head. “I can’t remember anything on the night of the nightmare. I’ve heard the rumors: the people supposedly began running amok?”
When Ebisu nodded, Jin continued, “I’ve asked around a fair bit, but the stories don’t exactly match all that well with each other. Whatever happened here had messed with everyone’s memories.”
“But,” Ebisu said, eyes narrowed, “there are a few who remember seeing a dark titan, standing over the manor, looming over the village. They remembered its presence, its aura, and the dreadful malice it exuded.”
Jin nodded. “It was standing over the manor? Is… is that why you’ve called everyone out of that place?”
“There’s something in there, master.” Ebisu said, shivering. “There’s something… evil in there and it wants to come out. I felt it… I think I felt it more than others. I’m afraid of what might happen to you if it comes after you.”
The boy took a deep breath. “I asked all the servants to vacate the premises as soon as I could. But I told a few guards to patrol outside the walls and report to me anything and everything strange they might encounter. They all seemed to agree that something seems to be watching them, eyes in the shadows and in the darkness.”
“You’re afraid that… something might come after me if I enter the manor?” Jin asked. Well, now that his student mentioned it, there was an odd feeling coming from his former home. It was as though there were whispers behind his ear, faint, voiceless whispers, telling him to come to them. It was inviting him into the manor. There was something there, Jin figured, but what was it and how long did they have to live in fear of it?
Still, he wasn’t in any rush to face whatever creature had taken residence in their former home. Anything that was powerful enough to mess with the minds of every person in a village of thousands deserved his fear and respect—at least, until Jin could find a way to burn it to ashes. Oh, how he hated psychics and their mind tricks. Honestly, he’d have preferred a physically superior foe than something could mess with his memories.
Ebisu nodded.
Jin sighed. “Very well, we’ll deal with this after we’ve dealt with these invaders.”
“Have you gathered the men?” Jin continued, switching the subject matter at hand. Ebisu visibly brightened.
The boy’s back straightened. “Yes, they’re all armed and armored. The provision stores are fully stocked with dried meat and rice cakes.”
Jin smiled. “That’s good. That’s very good, Ebisu. You’re ready for greater responsibilities, I believe. Your father will be proud of you if he saw you now.”
His student brightened even further. Jin continued, “Go talk to the troop commanders and tell them to begin live siege drills at once. Watch over them and ensure they’re doing what they’re supposed to be doing. Can you do that for me, Ebisu?”
The boy nodded firmly, but Ebisu could hardly hide the grin that was threatening to split his lips apart. Jin held in his own chuckle. The boy reminded him much of himself when he was around the same age, full of happiness and life, full of mirth and determination. The only difference between them was that Ebisu was capable of leveling a small mountain if he really wanted to. The boy had immense magical potential and a powerful Magical Beast to compliment his natural prowess.
“Very well,” Jin said, smiling. “Go to them then, Ebisu, and speak to them as their lord—because you are the lord of Hirata now. I’m just the governor. You are your father’s heir and, therefore, their true lord. Remind them of that.”
Ebisu beamed. “I will! I’ll show them I’m the most awesome commander ever!”
And so the boy ran out of the tent with a grin on his face. A servant walked in after him, an aged woman whose name Jin had long since forgotten. She carried a jug of water and a bowl of rice, topped with grilled pork. “Your meal, my lord, just as you wanted it.”
Jin nodded and smiled. “Thank you.”
He gestured for her to leave and so she did, bowing as she exited the tent. Jin eyed his meal. He didn’t recall ordering any food. But his belly spoke otherwise when it gurgled at the sigh
t of the meal. “Huh, when was the last time I ate anything?”
Jin certainly didn’t eat any of Yojimbo’s food, that was for sure. The man had no taste in anything other than alcohol. Even then, all he really drank was the premium rice wine of Hirata. Well, to be fair on that last bit, Hirata did produce amazing batches of sake last year, better than anything that was made in the capital.
Jin shook his head and stared at the food. He leaned in and took a tiny bite of the rice and pork. They weren’t poisoned. At least, if they were, then it was a very weak form of poison that wouldn’t affect him at all, but it was probably not poisoned at all. And so he took a bite. Funny, it was almost exactly like his favorite meal back at—
Jin froze, trying to remember that old woman’s face.
He loved this meal, but he barely ever ate it under Arima’s roof.
No, Jin only ever ate such a meal back in Murasaki castle. I have to find that woman!
She must’ve been one of his father’s former servants to remember his favorite meal. There were only ten of them, if his memory hadn’t already failed him, but, then again, Jin hardly bothered himself with their names or faces back then. They were servants and nothing more. Who is she? he thought. How did she survive the siege? Did the enemy let them go or did she find a way to escape on her own?
Jin rushed out of his tent. But the woman was already gone. She’d disappeared into the veritable crowd in front of him, warriors and peasants, moving around, carrying great hefts upon their backs, preparing for the war ahead. Jin scowled inwardly as the people began converging around him, giving him their greetings and their prayers, their hopes and beliefs. He forced himself to smile for them and extended greetings of his own. “My people, I assure you, we will survive the coming storm. We will not be humbled and we will not be defeated!”
