Doom of an Empire

Part One

by Rich Wulf

Rosoku stepped though the threshold of the ancient shrine, pushing aside his hood and letting his hair spill over his shoulders. His robes were soaked from the storm. The rain fell behind him in a steady curtain, and the sky cried out with the sound of thunder. The last descendant of Shinsei made his way through the abandoned temple at a hurried pace. His dreams had been troubled of late, and for one of his bloodline troubled dreams were rarely a matter that could be safely ignored.

It hade been a promise that bound his family for generations – to remain apart from the Empire. The promise had never set well with him. How could an heir of Shinsei rightly call himself a guardian if he hid away from the world? He had stepped forward from hiding in hopes of bringing enlightenment, but how foolish he had been to think that he could offer peace as well. He had forgotten a fundamental truth. There could no be enlightenment without hardship.

The sohei guardians, warrior priests who had guarded this temple in obscurity for generations, made no move to stop him. Rosuku entered a small chamber, where a book lay in wait on a single shelf. The mark of the five rings was emblazoned upon its cover, the book that would be the prize for whatever hero met the challenges he had presented to the Emperor.

As he turned fretfully through the pages, Rosuku’s thoughts moved back to his nightmare. He had stood at a crossroads in a forest and saw two paths that lay ahead, two possible futures. The rain fell about him heavily, just as it did tonight. As he studied these paths a voice echoed through the woods. The words were old and familiar yet somehow altogether new when he awoke he remembered only bits and pieces, but he knew where to seek the rest. This book, filled with the wisdom of his forebears, would contain what he sought. Turning quickly through the thick scroll he finally found the words, passages from the tongue of a long-dead madman.

It spoke of the Doom of an Empire.