The Bloodied Shield

by Michael McKenzie

  "But Kallax has no Empire," Ein noted with exasperation, slumping in their chair.

  "Lord Hayabatsu would have to re-establish the Empire."

  "Would it not be easier to claim the throne for himself?"

  Jeria shook his head, even going as far as making a cutting motion, obviously disgusted with the question.

  "No. Hayabatsu would seek the closest in Imperial Ancestry, and install them to the throne."

  "But I have the Imperial Mantle." Ein pointed out, "The People bestowed it on my Father."

  Jeria snorted in contempt and narrowed his eyes.

  "Prove it."

  Ein's own eyes narrowed in kind, and they started rolling the crown between their hands.

  "That is the issue, isn't it?" Ein concluded, looking from Rebekka to Trevayne.

  "An issue easily resolved, by simply going to them, and displaying the Mantle itself."

  "But I refuse." Ein frowned darkly, then dawned the crown, leaning back into his chair. "My Family has done little else but provide for Kallax' well-being, and in the face of this current crisis, they bite the hand that feeds them?"

  "Majesty, it is Hayabatsu, not-"

  "-No. It is not just Hayabatsu himself." Ein vented, rising from their chair. "I did not even have the time to greet Lord Jeria at the Gates, nor do I have time for a lengthy debate nor to negotiate with a treacherous, power-hungry vermin.”

  "Your Majesty." Jeria started, and the air seem to chill as the Samurai rose. Now they were all keenly aware that Jeria was still very armed.

  "Do not insult that man before me." Jeria pointed, though the finger aimed nowhere.

  "I am your King."

  "I am Zansui Warstalker's Samurai, I owe her fealty, not you." Jeria corrected pointedly. "And Lord Hayabatsu deserves every honor and respect you can muster."

  "Jeria-!" Rebekka started and the Warstalker slammed his fist into the table to interrupt her.

  "-I will not let this wretch insult a man who gave everything he had for a fat bastard who deserved their fate. I refuse to listen to another man with a title and a golden hat to piss on him again." Jeria snarled darkly, never taking those monstrous eyes off King Ein.

  The Monarch of Rilstar could see their own breath in the air. They could feel the cold clasp of fear at the very base of their spine, threatening to physically shake the King in their armor.

  "You do not feel fear, you inspire it." Ein nodded solemnly, the tone shifting to be more respectful. "And you hold Hayabatsu in high regard. It is true then that this Samurai thought more of his people and the Emperor who abandoned him?"

  Jeria shifted on his feet a moment, now giving Rebekka a questioning gaze.

  The City Liege was still in shock that her Brother had taken a hostile stance with the King.

  After some length, Jeria turned their attention once more to the King of Westwatch.

  "Yes. Having been the personal Shadow of Death for Lord Hayabatsu, I can attest that the People of his Clan Holdings adored the Man, and they were more important to Hayabatsu than life. The Northern Lords despised him, and the Southern Lords competed with him doggedly."

  "I have a copy of his Journal," Ein noted, returning to their seat, and once more removing their crown. "A fascinating read, though the mention of you in it is not entirely flattering."

  "I am a weapon of death." Jeria shrugged indifferently.

  "Yes, an unfeeling, dispassionate and dishonorable cretin who smiles only to the shrieks of the doomed." the King seemed to quote.

  The only ones who did not react in some way had been Illindan, and Jeria himself.

  "And?" the Worg Rider questioned, perking a brow.

  "You do not care what the Lord wrote of you?" Ein asked inquisitively.

  "I am what I am," Jeria replied without hesitation.

  Illindan however, spoke, to the shock of even Jeria, on the Samurai's behalf.

  "Kallaxian Samurai consider people unfeeling or dispassionate when they have no interest in poetry or literature. Dishonorable represents an action taken that no other Samurai would perform, such as killing a foe outside of an honorable duel or battle."

  "I have been told Lord Warstalker does enjoy the battlefield, extensively, and Cretin is a mistranslation. The Kallaxians do not have a word for cretin. It would be a closer translation that Jeria scares Lord Hayabatsu considerably."

  "I think the closest word there." Illindan nodded slightly, "Would be the word, 'creepy'."

  "Consider what the man is, and your own observation of his ability to inspire dread, with no disrespect intended to Lord Warstalker, many would be in the right to fear him."

  Jeria did not look on Illindan as they spoke, but Rebekka could hear the leather in Jeria' glove creaking as he tighten his fist.

  "So Lord Hayabatsu fears you." Ein leaned forward into the chair, looking from Rebekka to Lord Trevayne, who remained silent.

  "But I do not want him to fear me," Ein said, starting to play with that crown of theirs once more.

  "And I do not want to entertain this negotiation because I know it makes me appear weak, especially with my enemies on my very doorstep."

  "I cannot assign Lady Jakuul to this matter because she is currently looking into the affairs of the Crusaders of the Blue Rose. However it was an inspired choice to send you considering you know the man, and the culture, far better than anyone I would have."

  "Sending you as an Ambassador, however, may not work in our favor. I will send the Lady Zansui to do so, Lord Hayabatsu and the Zansui both have something in common. They both love the People, and the People, at the moment, love Zansui more than they love me."

  Ein grinned slightly at that admission.

  "Yet I will dote them. I will bend over backward and bend knee to my People. I will give them what I can and I have bled and will bleed for them again and again. I learned that from your Daughter, good sir, as well as your Sister."

  "I do not care if they love me, I only care if they are safe."

  Ein then placed the crown on their head once more and retained a more regal posture.

  "Lord Jeria, we need Kallax. Badly. It is where I will be sending the Population of Westwatch when it comes to the Darkscales attacking us, and they will be attacking us."

  "More of those Profane Temples you encountered in the South will be erected, I can guarantee it. According to reports, the Crusaders have destroyed several under the watchful eye of Trezzar the Red, and all of them scattered with the Walls of my City."

  "Those Temples are a threat to my People." Ein himself pointed, much like Jeria, off to a distance. "The loss of Kallax, for whatever reason, is a threat to my People."

  "And to quote a very wise man, a Samurai in fact." Ein grinned a moment, before his expression, and tone, turned grim and deathly serious. "I will not tolerate the existence of a threat to my People."

  "I charge you, Lord Jeria, to ensure that we retain Kallax at whatever cost that may come. By any means of bloodshed or words."

  "I know you respect that man. I understand you think of him highly. But I implore you, beg you, to think of the People of Rilstar and Kallax."

  "The Darkscales, and the Nameless Cult, are coming."

  Jeria sank in the chair and stared forward a moment.

  Rebekka took in a breath, as if about to speak herself, but Jeria reached over and patted her hand, then squeezed it.

  "I know what you are going to say. Zansui beat you to it." Rebekka's 'older' brother stated bitterly. "Elandra would want me to protect the People of Rilstar."

  Rebekka frowned in disappointment that Jeria again had to be coaxed with the name of their dead Wife. And Zansui had been the one to invoke their Mother like a weapon to keep their Father in Line.

  Jeria shifted unconformably, then lifted their head once more. "If I am not to be deployed as a diplomat, your Majesty, then in what function am I to serve?"

  A coy smile spread across the King's lips.

  “As I understand from the Reports sent, The
Din’s own Accounts, as well as Hayabatsu’s Journal, you have a habit of being somewhere you shouldn’t.” Ein started, settling in their makeshift throne.

  “Like smoke,” Illindan added, locking eye with Jeria as the man once more, viewed the Din with contempt. “And shadow.”

  Ein approved of Illindan’s description, and gestured from the Din to Jeria. “Yes. So happens, I have a need for such a man.”

  Chapter 9

  Zansui and Grigs Warstalker were neither announced nor turned away from the Pantheon Hall. They entered quietly, and were lead to the ante chamber where Nassin Weavering still rested.

  They had long washed and dressed the man in their ruined armor, and lain their long, curved sword out beside its Master. There were runes etched along the side of a portable slab, made to fight off the effects of decay and to keep vermin from the body.

  "He always told me the sewers would be the death of him." Zansui croaked, covering her face as tears flooded over her cheeks.

  Grigs hid their own damp face in Zansui's hair.

  They lingered there until a Priest informed them that a man in odd armor awaited for their leisure at the entrance.

  "When will Captain Weavering's remains be sent to their homeland?"

  "Many have volunteered to do the deed, my lady, but the King has yet to declare it safe to travel through the Southern Provinces."

  "Send him now," Zansui instructed, reaching out to place a hand on the Priest's chest. "I will speak to the King. But under no circumstance will I deny my Friend his long-awaited journey home."

  "As you instruct us, my Lady, we of the Pantheon will be saddened by the departure of one our more prolific visitors." the Priest bowed deeply, "However, the Captain's Sword has been willed off and the claimant refuses to accept the weapon. Shall I send it as well?"

  "Who has been willed Nassin's Sword?" Grigs lifted his face from where he had hidden it, and wiped it with the back of his hand.

  "Indbore Fel." the Priest answered with a bow. "He refuses to take claim of it."

  Zansui and Grigs gave a startled look to each other before Grigs gestured towards the weapon. "Enshrine it here, as a courtesy, but if Indbore Fel will not take it, it will one day find a wielder who is worthy."

  "Well said, Husband." Zansui wiped away her own tears, "Let us see what the King has in store for my Father."

  Jeria and Grok were both at the bottom of the Pantheon Stairs, with Charles Jakuul and an escort of men at arms wearing purple or yellow half-capes.

  Jeria's Raiders were also milling around, not professionally as the Soldiers, but nonetheless present.

  "I am sorry for your loss, little one." Jeria offered a stiff bow.

  "He died for the People of Rilstar, and he goes home to his People in Mebane." Zansui covered her eyes a moment to hide an onrush of more tears. She had to take a moment to control her wavering emotions before returning her attention to her Father. "What does the King want you to do with Hayabatsu."

  "King Ein has changed his mind on sending me as an envoy of the Kingdom, he is dispatching you to do so under orders that Rilstar retains Kallax at all cost." Jeria once more bowed slightly towards Zansui.

  "I will be fulfilling a different role, and will provide translation and insight."

  Again another bow.

  "And what role will you be playing?" Zansui questioned, now curious as well as concerned.

  "The King of Rilstar has presented your Father with a Title," Charles spoke up. "One that fits your Father's talents."

  "Royal Executioner?" Grigs blurted and had been instantly elbowed by Zansui, who did not find it amusing.

  "Essentially," Jeria reported, giving Charles a sidelong glance before continuing. "I have been granted the title, Shadow of Westwatch."

  "I will act where words fail." Jeria regarded Zansui as the color drained from her face.

  "I respect Lord Hayabatsu with all of my heart. But if he will not yield to the King of Rilstar, than Hayabatsu and everyone on that boat will never return to Kallax alive so long as I breathe."

  Jeria took a step up the stairs, half turning as he stared up towards Zansui.

  "And your Mother, with all her mercy and kindness, would want it that way."

  Zansui shuddered and swallowed hard. There was now even more at stake with dealing with this Kallaxian Ronin.

  Jeria then regarded Grigs. "You will report to the City Liege. She is in need of your skill and talents with steel and thievery."

  "What?" Grigs questioned, looking to Charles for an explanation.

  "My Mother is investigating the Crusaders of the Blue Rose. The Grandmaster Sudenire executed the Griffon Keeper for underplaying the Undead Attack on the City, thus why they only dispatched fifty Crusaders."

  "However, when Sudenire was made to report to the King, he had been wearing brand new armor, and lied about his whereabouts when receiving the summons."

  "When questioned subtly, Crusaders and Acolytes alike have expressed a weirdness in Lord Sudenire' behavior. He surrounds himself with like-minded folk and has not attended the Pantheon since their return to Westwatch when once he had attended almost as zealous as the High Cleric of Rilstar."

  "The Crusader's Holdings in Westwatch has fallen into some disrepair, but the yearly tithes and upkeep are all paid for in full."

  Grigs nodded slowly, "So how does the Grandmaster Sudenire afford a brand new suit of armor while fighting with the King?"

  "And fitted into an ornate armor, complete with fur, and not barring a scratch?" Charles questioned back.

  Grigs rubbed their dark chin a moment. "That sounds like a mystery alright, but what does that have to do with my talents as a Th-"”

  -do not sell yourself short." Jeria snorted in contempt.

  "You just steal things, can’t do anything else? I am getting tired of hearing about you being a Thief." The Samurai turned away and quickly straddled Grok. "I have stolen more than you have since I've met you."

  "Do what?" Grigs demanded, both insulted and annoyed. "And what have-"

  Before the Tiefling could finish asking, Jeria tossed a pouch for them to catch. Opening it, there were several gold ducats within.

  "-When did you start keeping gold on you?" Grigs questioned in shock, and Jeria gestured towards Charles.

  "I don't, it's his coin." the Samurai grunted, then turned Grok away from them to start making his towards the Port District. The Raiders, laughing at the display, followed suit at their own pace.

  Charles patted themselves down.

  "Son of a bitch!"

  "Well," Grigs closed the bag and tossed it back towards the distraught Lord. "He did tell you not to hug him."

  <><><><><><><>

  What was found on the main road, prior to the Port District, brought Jeria to a slow stop.

  The cobblestone road would wind straight past Zansui Warstalker's famous Stone Samurai Tavern and Inn. A two-story structure that also acted as a Restaurant and Inn of some sort, serving Wines of various cultures, and whatever happened to be cooking at the time. There had been a sizable jaunt of land partitioned off by a palisade all owned by the Legendary Half-Elven Ranger, compete with its own side road to a gate to allow for personal ins and out.

  It should have been the first thing Jeria saw on the left hand of the street, sitting across from a smithy operated by a Dwarf and their helpers.

  Instead, both were obscured by a sea of tents, most new, yet many were dirty and reinforced with planks of wood.

  It was a shanty town, with campfires and small gaps where pathways were starting to form in the grass.

  There were Guards in purple half-capes mingled within the Tents, most arrayed close to the streets and peering towards the West, towards the sea and inward beyond the Stone Samurai.

  There were Elven Maids and Minstrels moving about, tending to the occupants of this shanty town, with others in the Mirrored Armor of the Din moving from tent to tent looking for loved ones to reconnect with.

  The Occup
ants themselves of this place were Din. Din Children playing and laughing as their parents sat or stood, accepting the supplies offered.

  The Elven music playing to soothe the burning indignity forced on them by whomever or whatever had forced them out of their homes. There had to be a least five hundred Din Families, if at all that.

  A minute number when it came down to it, but one that had been targeted because of their race.

  Jeria turned Grok sharply to stare on Charles and Zansui, who were taken aback by the sudden stop, and the ferocity in Jeria’s expression.

  "What is the meaning of this?" Jeria demanded sharply, even before Zansui could fully realize what she was seeing.

  "The Criminal Element has forced many of these poor beings out of their home," Charles explained, nodding towards the village of tents before them. "Some were dragged out in the night and thrown into the streets, with the assailants gone before the Guard would arrive."

  "Or worse, they would throttle the guards with wooden sticks for interfering, then disperse before more would arrive."

  "So I had gathered many of them too scared to sleep in their own beds, here, so the Guards can watch over them." Charles shook his head slightly, "But the other residents see this as favoritism, and we've had a string of burglaries and vandalism for the past three weeks. Some we catch are just despots feeding off the frenzy. Few others?"

  "Those are wearing Kallaxian like garb and refuse to speak to your men," Jeria grunted, and Charles nodded confirming Jeria's summary.

  "An Akuza." Jeria rolled his eyes. "They are taking root. Soon they will start seeing if you or your nobles accept bribes to overlook them if they have not tried already."

  "I will not." Charles said dismissively, as if it would be absurd that he would.

  "They have not found a pressure point to use on you yet." Jeria pointed out, "My guess is that they would threaten Zansui's children, or threaten her husband, in order to get what they want."

  "That would be a mistake." Zansui scowled immediately, like Charles, the mere thought of them doing so had been absurd. "I would not yield to scum like them."

  “Then they would seek to kill you."