A Time of Retribution
by
Toturi Naseru rested uneasily upon the Steel Throne,
tracing with his right hand its delicate engravings. He found it strangely
appropriate that the ruling seat of authority in the Empire was so beautiful
yet so uncomfortable. Truly the position of Emperor was one that many might
desire — he knew that he once had — but only once in that position could one
truly understand its burdens. He had thought he understood. He had thought that
his previous small tastes of power had prepared him. Now he realized that any
previous beliefs that he understood what it meant to be an Emperor were pure
arrogance.
Naseru looked at the wall above the entrance to the
throne room, a mural depicting his father’s final battle with Fu Leng. His
father’s heroic figure, handsome and idealized, stood unfazed over the fallen
Dark God. The other Seven Thunders stood nearby with expressions of adoration.
“Your Majesty?” The quiet voice came from the chamber
entrance. The throne room was empty today, as it so often was of late, at the
Emperor’s request.
“Shoin,” the Emperor said, looking down at the
Imperial Herald. The Emperor’s expression was calm, if slightly exhausted.
“What news?”
“Your brother Sezaru has arrived,” Shoin announced.
The herald continued to kneel, one fist pressed to the floor, eyes fixed on the
foot of the throne.
Naseru nodded, looking back up at the mural and
gesturing with his fan. “Shoin-san, tell me,” he said. “What are your thoughts
on that painting?”
Shoin peered back over one shoulder then looked back at
the foot of the throne. “A famous piece of work, completed by the famed painter
Kakita Asahiko in the year 1130, in celebration of your father’s coronation.
Widely acclaimed as his masterpiece.”
“I know its history, Shoin,” Naseru said, looking back
at his herald. “I asked for your thoughts.”
Shoin paused for a long moment. “I suppose this comes
as no surprise to you, but your father is a hero of mine,” Shoin said. “I
approve of any work that captures his true essence.”
“A skilled answer, carefully cultivated to avoid an
Emperor’s wrath,” Naseru said. “Yet you knew me before I was an Emperor, Shoin.
Answer me as the man I was. What do you think of that painting?”
Shoin looked up at Naseru with a frown. “I do not like
it,” he said. “Your father looks wrong.” Shoin looked back at the painting
again. “The nose, the eyes… they do not look like him.”
Naseru chuckled. “No, they do not,” he said. “My
father was not a handsome man. His eyes were quick, piercing, the eyes of a
predator, not a soulful deer. This picture shows a man who never knew fear, who
never knew failure… that was not my father.”
Shoin looked at Naseru uncomfortably, clearly upset to
hear one of his heroes spoken of so but unwilling to dispute his Emperor.
“My father was a man who accepted his failures, who
learned from them,” Naseru continued. “It was his greatest strength. And look
at the Thunders, mewling in worship before him. Look at Hoturi, his hand
clenched to a bandage upon his chest. Look at Tadaka, merely holding his arm in
pain.” Naseru’s left hand clenched on the arm of his throne. “The Dark God tore
Hoturi’s chest open. The Master of Fire burned the flesh from Tadaka’s body.
Both of them fought on regardless… and they triumphed. This painting belittles
their sacrifice.”
“I suppose the artist’s intent was to create a thing
of beauty,” Shoin said.
“Life is not beautiful, Shoin,” Naseru said sharply,
“and it grows darker every day. The man in that painting,” he pointed with one
long finger, “is not my father.”
“I can order the painting removed, Your Majesty,”
Shoin said.
“No,” snapped Naseru. “Leave it. It is important that
it remain. That painting is not my father. That painting is an Emperor. It is a
reminder to me that the man I am and the man others expect me to be will never
be the same person. The image of a perfect Emperor disgusts me, yet on the day
I cease to strive for it, that will be the day it truly becomes impossible.”
The Emperor sighed deeply and sat straight in his throne. “Show my brother in.”
“Hai, Your Majesty,” Shoin said, quickly departing
from the chamber.
The Emperor did not wait long. Sezaru was not like the
others, placing ideals of etiquette and priority over expedience. If the Empire
was in danger, the Emperor needed to be informed of it. Within seconds the tall
figure of Isawa Sezaru entered the chamber. He wore his usual robes of blood
red, his white porcelain mask marked with the rising sun hanging at his belt.
Sezaru’s face was pale, his eyes ringed from lack of sleep. A savage burn
marked the left side of his neck. His usual braid was missing, his white hair
hanging only to his shoulders.
“Your Majesty,” Sezaru said, beginning to bow to his
knees. Shoin entered behind him, waiting by the door for the Emperor’s command.
Naseru curtly waved at the air with his fan.
Sezaru nodded with a look of relief, straightening.
“Dark news from the Phoenix lands, little brother,” Sezaru said. “The
Bloodspeakers roused an army of the undead and attacked the city of Gisei
Toshi. History records the city as destroyed centuries ago, but apparently it
had survived and became a repository of the Isawa family’s greatest secrets. I
returned from the battle as quickly as I could.”
“I am surprised you did not inform me of this Gisei
Toshi sooner, given that you are Isawa now,” Naseru said.
Sezaru scowled. “Though I bear the Isawa name, I think
the Elemental Council still looks upon me as a Toturi. I did not know of Gisei
Toshi until it was too late.”
“Too late?”
“Hai,” Sezaru replied. “The city of Gisei Toshi has
been destroyed, and Kyuden Isawa nearly so.”
“Kyuden Isawa?”
“Iuchiban summoned a powerful demon, known as the
Kusatte Iru, to attack Kyuden Isawa during his siege of Gisei Toshi. We were
able to defeat it, but only at great cost. The precious time that required
prevented us from reaching Gisei Toshi before it was destroyed.”
Naseru brooded over the news for a long time. “What of
the Phoenix treasures within the city? I assume Iuchiban was seeking them. Did
he find what he sought?”
“We do not know,” Sezaru admitted. “Many of the more
dangerous artifacts were removed safely from the city, including two of the
Black Scrolls…”
Sezaru trailed off suddenly, glancing away from his
brother.
“There is more,” Naseru said. “Tell me.”
“Toku is dead, Naseru. He sacrificed himself bringing
a mountain down upon Yajinden, Iuchiban’s lieutenant, giving his comrades time
to escape.”
Toturi Naseru was a cynical, pessimistic man. He had
lived his life expecting the worst of others, preparing for tragedy well before
it arrived, and thus was rarely surprised at the darkest turn of events. But at
this news, the fan tumbled from his fingers. His expression became glazed,
staring blankly at the portrait of his father.
Toku had been one of the greatest heroes of Rokugan, the
samurai who had stood beside his father during his march from the depths of
dishonor to the throne itself. To Naseru, he had been a living symbol of honor,
fortitude, and determination.
“This Yajinden,” Naseru said in a trembling voice. “Is
he dead?”
Sezaru looked at his brother curiously. “Unlikely,” he
said. “He shares the same form of immortality that makes Iuchiban so difficult
to destroy.”
“No.” Naseru’s voice still shook, not in fear but in
growing anger. He rose from his throne, his courtier’s fan forgotten upon the
floor. “How can this be? How can these Bloodspeakers raise an army in the heart
of my Empire? How dare they steal our magics, destroy our cities, slaughter our
greatest heroes? Sezaru, how can we have allowed this to happen? Where did Iuchiban
find this power?”
“The Bloodspeakers are a large and pervasive group,”
Sezaru said. “They have been in hiding for generations, cultivating hidden
fields of the dead to give Iuchiban access to undead armies wherever he might
need them. The Jade Champion believes there is at least one cell of
Bloodspeakers in every large city. They have been waiting only for their
master’s return.”
Naseru’s eye narrowed, his vision clouding. Carefully,
deliberately, he sat back on his throne, choked down his anger. “If news of
these Bloodspeaker cells spreads, there will be chaos. The Witch Hunters and
Inquisitors will take it upon themselves to root out every household, every
village, seeking any sign of the hidden cultists…”
“It will be difficult, but not impossible, to conceal
the truth,” Sezaru said.
“I do not want it concealed,” Naseru said. “I wish
this truth to be spread as quickly as possible. Shoin, send word to Sunetra. I
wish to see her at once.”
Shoin nodded obediently and departed.
“What are you doing?” Sezaru asked, looking at his
brother sharply. “If this hunt is not conducted with care and subtlety, there
will be great chaos.”
“There is already great chaos,” Naseru said gravely.
“I will not stand for another Rain of Blood, nor another Gisei Toshi. When we
light the fires of hysteria, the Bloodspeakers will be forced to retreat from
public view lest they be revealed, and Sunetra’s eyes will be watching.”
Sezaru frowned. “If innocents suffer for this, you may
be blamed, my brother. You already have many enemies. If you allow your wrath
to spread unchecked, uncontrolled…”
“Sezaru, I do not care what the people of this Empire
think of me,” the Emperor snapped. “I care only for the safety of the Empire,
not its admiration. If I can save Rokugan at the price of being remembered as a
despot, I will do so gladly.”
Sezaru looked at his brother sadly. “Once we strove
against one another for the throne you occupy, Naseru. Kaneka may envy you your
success, but I do not. But I stand beside you, brother, now and forever.” He
bowed deeply. “I know our sister would have, as well.”
“I hope you are right, Sezaru,” Naseru said. “While
Sunetra spreads her spies and rumormongers, you must prepare. Gather the
mightiest shugenja in the Empire. When we find the places where these Bloodspeakers
lie, we must act swiftly and without mercy.”
“Yes, my brother,” Sezaru said.
“And one thing more,” Naseru said. “Should things
resolve as you have suggested, should the Empire turn against me and my
guardians cannot protect me…”
“You should not consider such things,
brother,” Sezaru said.
“I am Emperor. I must consider all things,” Naseru
answered. “If such an event should come to be, know that it is my wish for you,
not Kaneka, to occupy this throne.”
“I am no leader,” Sezaru said, shaking his head
quickly. “I learned that in my quest to seek the throne myself. I could not do
what you do.”
“Yet Kaneka is too ambitious,” Naseru replied. “It is
his nature. He conspires against me in ways that even he does not realize. As
Shogun, he is a mighty warrior, protector of Rokugan. As Emperor, he would tear
the clans apart. He must not sit upon the throne. Promise me, at the very
least, that if you do not take the throne that Kaneka never will.”
Sezaru met his brother’s eyes evenly. “Hai, brother,”
he said. “This I swear to you.”
•
Kakita Munemori yawned as he slid the window open and
gazed into the darkened gardens. The old courtier had been having trouble
sleeping of late. Too much to do, not enough hours in the day. His superiors,
both within the Crane and beyond, had been asking a great deal of him.
Fortunately his estates in Otosan Uchi were fairly opulent.
“It’s cold outside, Mori-san,” said a coy voice from
the dark room behind him. “Close the window.”
Munemori laughed. “It feels grand to me,” he said with
a smirk. “The night air is always refreshing after a bit of exercise.”
“Show the girl away, you old lecher,” whispered the
man crouching beside the window. He wore black silk, fading neatly into the
shadows, a mask wrapping his features and identity from view.
“Erm,” Munemori said, glancing over his shoulder.
“Perhaps you should go to the kitchens, little flower, and see if the servants
have anything prepared.”
There was the sound of light laughter, then footsteps
moving quickly away.
“You disgust me, old man,” the ninja said, not moving
from his place. “Yet our masters are pleased with your progress so far.”
“Then your opinions are irrelevant,” Munemori said in
a low voice, pretending to study the gardens. “It isn’t my fault you made a
poor career choice and now envy mine.”
“The time comes swiftly,” the ninja replied. “Our ears
in the palace warn to watch the Emperor. Warn Atsuki of what is to be. Warn him
that the Emperor will soon present the weakness we have awaited.”
“Atsuki,” Munemori frowned in distaste.
“It seems we must both work beside those we despise,”
the ninja said in an amused voice. “Shoulder your burden, lecher. We all must
do what we can for the good of the Empire.”
“Curious philosophy, considering the source,” Munemori
said.
The ninja was already gone. Munemori sighed. He so
hated it when people left before his witty retort.