"The tale of Old King is known and honored," Hayabatsu observed with a stout nod, yet respectfully countered with a following question. "But what of the current King?"
"What has this Wingsteed done for Kallax that earns him the right to say he rules us? A man who is absent, and sends a woman to discuss the future of a realm he is to hold sway." Hayabatsu directed towards the rest of the Assembly, who all offered acknowledge grunts and stiff nods of agreement. "Are we beneath him that he will not address us himself?"
Zansui's expression hardened considerably.
"The King is planning for a War against foes far greater in number than you had seen during the Din War." Zansui admitted, once more looking among the Lords.
"On top of that, you removed Lord Hertwire, a man who not only fought in the Din War, saving Kallaxians beside his King, like a drunken fool because he did not know of your ways."
"You insulted Lord Hertwire by not giving him a proper or honorable battle to prove Rilstarin resolve, which you, Lord Hayabatsu yourself, witnessed with my Grandfather and Grandmother fell to provide you with a means of retreat!"
Zansui shifted on her legs, unconformable in this cross-legged position, yet when she settled, she continued
"The King feels that your culture may have been disrespected, and in turn you are being disrespectful, so he has dispatched someone who was exceptionally intimate with your ways. My Father, Jeria."
Jeria bowed when he had been acknowledged.
"However, knowing my Father's lack of grace and your personal feelings for him, Lord Hayabatsu, King Wingsteed sent me knowing that I will not allow my Father to resolve this matter befitting of his talent and skills that you, again, Lord Hayabatsu, had the misfortune of deploying on the enemies of your People."
"And yet you ask me what King Wingsteed has done for Kallax?" Zansui demanded, and they could hear the ring of anger in her voice. "Ein has treated them like his own People."
"After his Father bled for them. After Ein inherited a Kingdom on the verge of financial ruin from Wars as well as for aiding Kallax. He harbored no grudge, asked for no heavy tithes nor the demand of soldiers from Kallaxian soil."
“He despatched Outriders at Kingdom’s expense, Mercenaries and Engineers to rebuild your cities, at Kingdom’s expense.”
"Even now, with the Darkscales on the verge of spilling over the Black Wall, King Wingsteed never once sent a command or instructions for conscription or service, leaving you at Peace."
"He sought to install those with the strongest ties to the lands in power, and quelled the criminal elements of your lands with mercenary and soldiers he needed against the ever present dangers that encircle his City daily."
"While the rest of Rilstar is suffering misery and strife, what doom has fallen Kallax during Wingsteed’s Reign?" Zansui demanded loudly, glaring over the Daimyo, and even waited a moment for them to respond.
They did not.
"And now here you all are." Zansui nodded, again adjusting herself. "Half of you owe the Wingsteed Family bloodline your lives and titles."
"And the other half were welcomed with open arms." Zansui finally settled her gaze on Hayabatsu. "Only to have steel drawn in challenge to the welcoming gesture,"
"You questioning King Wingsteed's right to rule is an insult in on itself. You all act like a spoiled dog, biting the hand that feeds it."
There were more than a few angry outbursts when the Retainers translated to the Daimyo's who had yet grasped the full vocabulary of the Common tongue.
Hayabatsu spoke something sharply which ceased it from going on, and Jeria murmured that the bald man had just demanded silence.
"One moment, Lady Zansui." Hayabatsu bowed towards her from their sitting position, before they began to address the assembly.
Jeria turned from them and regarded Zansui.
"Are you not going to translate?" the Half-Elf questioned quietly, noticing a considerable conversation had sparked.
"It is a private conversation. It would be rude for me to translate." Jeria replied in a dull tone. "But they are discussion what you just said, and are attempted to narrow the margin."
"Margin?" Zansui frowned, looking amongst the Daimyo.
"Yes, earlier Lord Hayabatsu said he had been chosen by nine to five Daimyo. Nine Daimyo agreed that Hayabatsu would negotiate on their behalf, the other five did not. An assembly like this they must narrow that Margin to either nothing or to a number of contestants that will not provoke an overwhelming military reprisal."
"Attended many of these, lad?" Hertwire asked, scooting themselves closer to listen to Jeria.
"Two," Jeria observed, now nodding respectfully to the Shin-no-Kages in the corner. "Neither this small. There used to be many more Daimyo, and such meetings rarely ended without some sort of bloodshed."
"Sometimes descanting Lords would war against a Neighbor who disagreed with them or challenge them to a duel." Jeria shrugged indifferently. "Sometimes Daimyo died on the spot for a slight given or a veiled insult, like a spoiled dog biting the hand that feeds them."
Zansui smiled sheepishly. "It sounded good."
"I've heard it before." Jeria grunted dismissively, "Apparently my Daughter is a good judge of character."
Traginos' voice raised sharply, and they made a cutting motion with their hand, even pointing at Zansui. They looked angry and discontent.
"That," Jeria noted, not turning, though Zansui and Hertwire both looked in the man's direction. "Is the reason why we are having this Assembly."
"That is a member of the Uginaga, more than likely a grandchild of Emperor."
"Uginaga there, more than likely shoved this whole affair on all of their laps. Hayabatsu being a partial traditionalist has no choice but to try."
"So this is just a giant waste of time," Hertwire said more than questioned.
"Not exactly. If Rilstar had failed to show proper respect to the Daimyo, then I would have to intervene my way." Jeria observed quietly, glancing towards Hayabatsu who looked to be showing disinterest in what Uginaga was saying. “We’ve shown enough that they are dismissing your previous visits as cultural misunderstandings.”
"Dad, why is Hayabatsu a partial traditionalist? That sounds absurd." Zansui pursed her lips as she thought of what Jeria had called the Daimyo in red.
"Most Southern Samurai were considered different to the more traditional ideologies and practices of the culture," Jeria explained, sighing as he did so. The man was not one for idle banter and he did not really care to be telling anyone anything.
"That is a bit of history there, but let us say that many of the Southern Daimyo at the time held their Peasantry in higher regard than the North." Jeria nodded towards Hayabatsu. "Otherwise murder, rape, and looting against the lower castes had been overlooked when committed by those of Samurai standing. The Southern Lords changed that."
Zansui looked relatively disgusted, but Jeria shifted, making a small gesture towards the man in green.
"Uginaga, as you can see, is a sound traditionalist who wants to return to the ways that he could walk into anyone's home and kill them for a laugh."
"That is horrible." Zansui looked on towards Traginos who, when silent, kept their eyes downcast and away.
“Perhaps the wrong choice of words, but it complicated.” Jeria shrugged indifferently. “Traditionalists believe that the Law does not apply to the Daimyo or those of Title, and Samurai are akin to a very Minor Nobility here in Westwatch, but it is still a Title. Peasants, to them, are little more than an asset, like rice, and farm tools.”
“Non-Traditionalists like Hayabatsu see the importance in upholding the Law on all those who stride within the Lands, and would execute a Reagent who robbed a Family of their Cow just as fast as he would put sword to a Peasant who Murdered their Neighbor.”
“Do all Crimes in Kallax result in Death?” Zansui could not help but ask.
“Mostly.” Jeria finished, frowning as turned his head, listening to the Lords without the i
ntent to.
Zansui however, directed her Father’s attention back to Uginaga. "They are marked by the same sign we saw on that green cloth your Raiders secured."
"It means they are directly linked with the Uginaga Clan," Jeria explained quietly.
"Can we not use that against him?" Zansui asked as each Daimyo were taking turns now to address the others. "If the Southern Lords are more interested in protecting people then-"
"-It does not work like that here." Jeria frowned, regarding Zansui. "But it can be dealt with before we leave."
"Without violence?"
"No."
Zansui scowled. "Would you at least try to resolve it without resorting to killing someone?"
"It is the Kallaxin way. Dishonor or disrespect someone leads to challenges, and challenges leads to fights. In Kallax Fights are normally to the death with few exceptions." Jeria responded, his tone unchanging. "Uginaga Clan members are openly challenging the Jakuul Guards of the Port District. The other Daimyo will consider it two clans feuding. The Uginaga are dishonoring and disrespecting the Jakuul's, not this Assembly."
Hertwire sat back a moment, as he possessed the information. Then something dawned on him, and he leaned forward over Zansui’s shoulder.
"There is a good chance the green bastard's opening move if his crown Emperor would have been to launch an attack against the Port so show the world that the Kallaxian Empire is back in full swing. Like a spit in the eye. Those criminals running around with the green sashes? Equal chance those are actual Samurai looking to stir up trouble."
Zansui had shifted her weight to listen to Hertwire's theory and gasped as she realized the truth of it. "The Soldiers on the boats, they've already laid groundwork for an attack."
"Lady Zansui." Hayabatsu addressed them, and all three resumed a more attentive posture.
"We Daimyo of Kallax have come to-" Hayabatsu paused, and twisted at their waist to regard Traginos Uginaga. "-a partial decision."
Chapter 12
If they had ridden out to the Town within the Bulwark where the Shadow Guild Tavern had once resided, it would have taken most of the day.
Instead, Trezzar had another means of travel, considering she could not ride out into the sunlight, to begin with.
Trezzar, with her Father, Razzar, took Dratin and Grigs to an adjacent chamber, closed off and spacious.
"Close all the curtains and secure the door with a brace," Trezzar instructed, moving to shove furniture from the center of the room.
The Broodling and the Tiefling went about doing as instructed, closing all the curtains to obscure the sunlight. Razzar simply stood there, leaning against his halberd.
When they were finished, Trezzer disrobed and flicked her wrists. "I am actually missing the Domed City."
"Vampires have Cities?" Grigs questioned out of curiosity.
"Yes, but what I miss is the Dome over Damamascio. Tis the only Dergathian City left from the Fall, though the occupants have long since parted for Capri." Trezzar explained, tossing her long, white braid over her shoulder. "For a time, Damamascio had been the only City in the world of Rals that would allow Dark Elves to roam its streets openly and without an escort, and the Dome made it easier for them to acclimate to the Daylight."
"Vampires?" Trezzar shrugged, "Well if there are Vampires in the City they keep it to themselves."
"So it's like a Stone Dome?" Grigs asked, "And isn't Damamascio the name of the Plainstrider Elves Homeland?"
"It is their Capital." Trezzar frowned somewhat, before putting her hands on her silver plated hips. "You are an inquisitive one."
"I can't help it. I like knowing things." Grigs smiled nervously as Trezzar scowled at him.
"Just be quiet and stay in the circle," Trezzar instructed, pointing to the center of the room.
"What-"
As Grigs looked down, asking his question, he could see red runes hovering over the velvet carpet. Peering up, he could see matching runes, floating barely a hair’s width from the rafters.
"-circle?"
"Vampire spellcraft at its rudimentary," Trezzar explained, gesturing for Dratin and Grigs to come closer. Razzar stepped within the confines of the spell, and then once more leaned lazily against that elaborate halberd.
"Think of it as a teleport scroll, save for several people." Trezzar attempted to reassure them. Grigs stepped in, and Dratin followed suit, curling her tail so she was completely inside.
"You did this yourself?" Grigs questioned, impressed with the magical wording seem to list in a slow rotation.
"No. I have had liberties with the estate and had a few friends over." Trezzar reported, now smiling coyly. "Do you think I am the only Vampire in World?"
Before Grigs could ask another question on that, Trezzar whispered a command word, and the entire World went dark.
Trezzar could not help but laugh at her timing, the perplex look on the Tiefling’s face before he disappeared in a whirl of shadow had been priceless.
Grigs felt as if he had been flung from a building. Or at least the second story of a tavern, where he would be barreling towards some tables and chairs. The Tiefling had been in more than a few scraps like that before.
And Grigs had been teleported, more than once. It was like blinking overly long and finding yourself somewhere else altogether. Disorientating nausea that would summarily follow only worsened the greater the distance traveled.
However, this darkness was not an overly long blink. For more than a few heartbeats, Grigs could hear screaming in the darkness. The wet sound of limbs being torn, and the barking laughter of deep, rumbling voices. He could see shapes, unnaturally large or unbelievably small, moving in the masking shadows of someplace horrid.
Horrid and Evil.
When the world brightened, Grigs found himself scrambling over the wooden floor of the Tavern that had once held the Thieves Guild. Dratin had done the same, holding up her hammer and glaring around at the world with wide-eyed surprise.
"What the FUCK was THAT?!" Grigs demanded of Razzar.
The Elf peered towards them both with that one glowing blue eye. A blond arch raised over it, unsure of the question, though fished into a pouch on their hip.
Producing a stone, and tossing it, a Fox pup landed where the rock should have fallen while Razzar himself inspected the Tavern doors that had been torn down but never repaired. It stretched a moment, before bounding its way up a table nearest Grigs.
"It is called Planes Jumping. Vampires use it to travel long distances. Greater risk of being stranded somewhere we were not meant to be, less throwing up," the Fox explained, perking its ears as Grigs continued to stare bewildered and horrified. "We were in there too long, however. You were not meant to see that."
"Did we jump into the Hells or something?" Dratin questioned, slowly lowering her hammer.
"No, the Pantheon of Darkness," Gray announced as if it had been a casual stroll through a garden. "The Hells are occupied by the Invaders."
"What?!" Grigs and Dratin both balked.
"There are many things you do not know and just as many things Razzar will not explain. We are here. What next?" Gray shot back, the pup matching Razzar's irritated look by folding the ears back against their skull.
"Who goes there?" someone demanded, and they heard the approach from outside. The clinking of armor and the rattling of swords matched with quiet speculation of others who happened by.
"Can we just sneak into a place?" Grigs groaned, getting to his feet.
"You were the one whining!" Gray shot, baring their sharp white teeth at Grigs in annoyance before scrambling to Razzar. “And Loudly!”
The Elf pushed open brand new doors to the establishment before he stepped out into the street. There were people, common folk mostly, with few Guards with a black half cape signifying their ties to Gorgreen.
"Who are you?!" the Closest Guard demanded. "This is private property belonging to Lord Dalitrous Gorgreen and it is closed to the public. You are tr
espassing!"
"This is Razzar the Red," Gray explained calmly. "He goes where he pleases!"
Despite the fact that the Guards still closed, there was less gait in their step. The Crowd of people, men, and workers, suppliers or even off duty archers assigned to the wall, they quickly started to give the Guards space.
Yet, eyes drifted from the Elf, to the one who proclaimed this silent being to be the living Legend, and they all slowed and hesitated.
Did the Fox, Speak?
Yet that did not immediately dawn on the Guard who had been more than likely instructed to keep people out of the Tavern.
"Razzar the Red?" that same Guard asked, not wholly realizing that the one they were questioning had been at the Elf’s ankles, then demanded with a hand clasping at their sword. "Prove it!"
Without hesitation, Razzar thrust his halberd into the ground before lurching forward and grabbing the questioning Guard. Even as they could finish screeching "Put me down!" Razzar had hoisted the man upward with a show of might that one would only hear in fairy tales of the strong and bold.
And then, just before the weight could settle, Razzar threw the man screaming across the street and into the side of a building with a thunderous clang of metal on wood.
The other Guards had drawn steel, and yet they followed the arch of their comrade with rounded eyes and slacked jaws. Military training and discipline forgotten by the sight of a man in breastplate and chainmail discarded like a doll from a temperamental child.
Turning back, Razzar had pulled his halberd free and swiped the axe head in a path that collided with their extended weapons. Several of the held swords had been clipped like they were thin twigs, while others had been seriously damaged with sizable gauges in the metal.
As the Guards retreated a moment, Razzar thrust the halberd into the ground once more and leaned on it, assuming the appearance of an old Elf having difficulties keeping their balance.
"Any further proof or are you going to fetch your man a healer?" Gray asked with a broad smile on their muzzle.
The Bloodied Shield Page 16
