Takeo's Chronicles, page 133
“I’m not going to tell you how to feel, Mako,” he said. “If you want to worry about me, you can, but know that it won’t help anything. Try to keep busy while I’m gone. I worry about you, too. You’re my sister, after all.”
“In-law,” she added.
“Makes no difference to me. We were the only people who knew Okamoto, and that’s a bond I share with no one else, not even Emily.”
Mako’s smile grew. She stopped staring at her feet, lifting her head and stepping out into the light. Her eyes found Takeo’s guards spreading out and surrounding the tent. They found Qing, nearby and wearing her trademark look of aggravation and annoyance. They found Nicholas licking his fingers after having just devoured a meal that would have fed a small family. They found Ping and Kuniko approaching with a short, older woman who was smiling, too.
“Takeo,” Mako said, nodding. “Who’s this?”
His mood soured.
“My, uh, mother,” he mumbled, and rushed into the tent.
Mako’s gasp followed him, along with an all-too-loud, “Your mother?”
Takeo didn’t reply. The tent flap fell closed behind him, and he was swallowed into its stuffy confines. He busied himself immediately, searching for his tools to sharpen and oil his sword—not his sword, he remembered. His sword didn’t need such maintenance, but this borrowed one did. Yet that didn’t aggravate him because he needed a distraction. Any moment now, Mako or someone else was going to bash into the tent and demand answers, and it churned his stomach just thinking about it.
Yet something much worse occurred.
“You’re Takeo’s mother, truly?” came Mako’s muffled voice through the tent wall.
“I am,” came the reply.
“None of us can believe it either,” Nicholas jumped in with boisterous enthusiasm. “It’s a good thing Krunk isn’t here. He and I had a running bet. Krunk believed Takeo’s parents were dead, like his, but I assured him Takeo’s mother was alive and well.”
“Wait, how is that a good thing? Wouldn’t you have won the bet?” someone asked, who Takeo couldn't tell.
“True, except I bet there was no way Takeo was human. I wagered he was the offspring of a strange love affair between a satyr and a minotaur.”
Laughter surrounded the tent, unforced, for one painful second. Takeo clenched his teeth so hard they threatened to crack.
“Well, that aside, I’m pleased to meet you. Takeo is very dear to me, you see,” Mako said. “You’ll have to excuse Nicholas, here. He’s Takeo’s brother-in-law.”
There was a pause, a calculated one.
“Pleased to meet you, too, but if you’re his sister-in-law, and this man is his brother-in-law,” Dhyana started, “and it’s clear this viking isn’t related to you, my dear, then that must mean my son is married.”
“Well, not exactly,” Nicholas began.
Takeo bolted to his feet and dashed out of the tent, ripping the flap open. No one had moved from their positions since he’d gone inside, but they all went still at the violence of his exit. Everyone deflected their gaze as if they’d all been caught scheming behind his back—all but Dhyana.
As his gaze fell on her, she didn’t appear injured or threatened, ashamed or regretful. Her eyes spoke of something deeper, something Takeo was not familiar with. Her eyes had a glimmer to them that Takeo found unsettling.
“I’d heard rumors,” she whispered. “Common people don’t like to talk about you much, as if doing so will summon you to their bedside, but I gathered all the information I could. I’d heard you’d loved and lost. Your wife? I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for that, to see you fall in love, and to see you lose the one you cared about. I know how that feels. I lost your father. I’m sorry, so sorry I wasn’t there for you. It wasn’t my choice.”
The anger in Takeo’s heart suffocated and went out. As his mother stared at him, teary-eyed and unafraid, Takeo’s aura of certainty fell away. He stood stunned, not knowing what to think or feel, as he encountered a situation he’d never prepared for. The whole day might have gone on this way, with him just staring like an idiot, if he’d not been saved by the appearance of a small entourage of heavily decorated samurai, surrounding a familiar face.
They came marching from deep within the daimyo encampment, a good dozen strong and decorated for war. For a moment, Takeo thought they were coming to kill him, but that faded when a tall man with a slight gut strode out to the front. Lord Yoshida was a difficult man to miss, what with his graying goatee and long eyebrows.
He didn’t look happy, either.
“Takeo,” the man said, shaking his head. “Must you vex me at every turn? I’ve been waiting an age for you. Don’t you know better than to leave on your own accord when we’re so close to the enemy?”
On instinct more than manners, Takeo bowed to the lord, deep and low. Yoshida acknowledged the show of respect with a nod.
“It was urgent, my lord,” Takeo replied. “I assure you I wouldn’t have done so if it hadn’t been important.”
Lord Yoshida’s eyes swept the scene and quickly deduced the oddity of an old woman standing so close by, surrounded by soldiers. She didn’t look like a royal servant, what with her ragged clothes, and Lord Yoshida was too smart a man not to ignore the situation. Takeo cringed.
“Well, that can wait,” the lord said, cautiously. “Grab a dozen of your guard and follow me. Lord Botan’s army is approaching. Battle looms.”
Chapter 3
Lord Yoshida led their large war party out onto the plains. They didn’t go far, just a hair outside bow range from the army, though they still rode komainu to do it. Lord Yoshida didn’t walk far if he could help it. In fact, none of the daimyo did, and Takeo was growing accustomed to riding thanks to his proximity to Juatwa’s upper echelon.
Once beyond the camp, Yoshida commanded the troops to surround them and spread out, beyond earshot. The guards did so only once Takeo gave his nod of approval. Yoshida scoffed at that, seeming to take offense, and Takeo couldn’t blame him.
“My lord, what is this about?” Takeo asked. “This is a hefty guard for just a conversation. I’d have been suspicious if you hadn’t commanded me to bring my own.”
“That’s why I did it,” Yoshida replied. “Also, we could use the extra protection. One can’t be too careful in times like these. I still recall with vivid clarity that messenger stabbing you mere paces from myself. No, no, Takeo, I will not be taking any more chances. I don’t even take a piss on my own anymore, not with Lord Botan so close.”
“What is this about?” Takeo asked, pointedly. “We’re not out here to discuss battle strategy, are we?”
The two were still mounted at this point, atop a small hill that gave a pleasant view of the surrounding grassy fields. At least, it would have been pleasant, if not for the sea of red troops and white tents filling the area, trampling the place into dust.
Lord Yoshida frowned over the mass and sighed. To Takeo’s surprise, he dismounted, and the ronin hurried to do the same. They stood close by, facing each other, their mounts surrounding and shielding them from view, and Lord Yoshida struck out his hand.
Takeo stared at it and blinked.
“I know, it’s a bit personal, but please accept it,” the lord said.
Slowly, hesitantly, Takeo extended his own hand and grasped Yoshida’s. They shook once and let go.
To an outsider, like Gavin or Nicholas, what just occurred might have gone unnoticed. Handshakes, smiles, even hugs, were handed out with ease in most of the world, but Juatwa shunned such things. Showing emotion was a sign of weakness, even between close friends. On top of this, Lord Yoshida was a daimyo, and a high-ranking one at that, with connections, wealth, and power that rivaled a shogun. Meanwhile, Takeo was still a ronin, even if a valuable one, considered to harbor some unseen disease. To acknowledge Takeo’s existence at all was considered by some royalty to be beneath them. To shake his hand, though? Takeo was almost as stunned as when he’d found out he had a mother.
“My lord?” he managed to say.
“We haven’t had a chance to talk privately since defeating Lord Pircha,” Yoshida explained. “I feel I owe you an apology. I know we disagreed on how to handle the late shogun, but I want you to know I harbor no ill will towards you. I am aware that we would be dead or imprisoned were it not for you, and I thank you for that.”
As grateful as Takeo was to hear his deeds being acknowledged for once, he couldn’t help but remark, “You had to wait to say that in private? I’m still that much of an outcast?”
Lord Yoshida ran two fingers along his goatee but didn’t appear amused.
“We’re not out here for that,” he said. “If I’d wanted privacy, I wouldn’t have brought gossiping guards. And, no, Takeo, you aren’t an outcast anymore. It’s becoming well known that the common ranks hold a measure of respect for you, and I would be a fool to ignore it. It’s time you were treated as an equal. That’s why I brought you here, to make sure we’re on the same page.”
Takeo balked. His heart beat irregularly, skipping at odd intervals while his stomach flipped. He couldn’t believe the words he was hearing, so much so that his mind instantly turned against them.
“An equal?” Takeo stuttered. “What game are you playing at? I only have one purpose, my lord: victory.”
“As I’ve noticed. That’s exactly the page I'm talking about, trust me.”
“No offense, lord, but I don’t trust easy. I’ve been betrayed my whole life. It will take more than a handshake and a promise to change that.”
Lord Yoshida sighed again and put his hands behind his back. He cocked his head at the army in the distance.
“Just as I suspected,” the lord said. “You distrust me even more now for my actions, don’t you? Well, let me be frank with you, then. Do you see that army, Karaoshi? Anything you notice about it?”
Takeo reluctantly glanced at the army, but no inspection was required. He knew the answer.
“It’s small,” the ronin said. “I expected more to invade the Katsu lands. We need more.”
“And you’re right. We should have more, about a good quarter more to be precise. You see, when Lady Zhenzhen made you an adviser to Lord Nobu, she did so discreetly and with little notice. All the daimyo had pledged their forces for the fight against Lord Pircha by the time your involvement was revealed. They hadn’t time to protest. Now, though, the jig is up, and many aren’t happy about it. Many daimyo have withdrawn their troops in protest of you.”
“Protest of what? I saved their lives.”
“Well, if you’ll recall, you were unconscious for that last battle. Also, there is no immediate threat to their lives. You see, when the Hanu lands are being invaded, you’ll find the protests against you will lessen. When we invade, however? Well, many will find an excuse to sit this one out. If you fail, nothing will happen to them.”
Takeo fumed but only a little. In truth, he wasn’t surprised. That’s just the sort of cowardly inaction he expected his enemies to take, even those who were supposed to be his allies.
“I’m surprised Lady Zhenzhen tolerates this,” Takeo said.
“She won’t if she finds out.”
Takeo cocked an eyebrow. Yoshida sighed.
“Listen Takeo, you and I are about to have an honest conversation, one with potentially lethal consequences,” the lord whispered. “Well, for me at least, because I seek victory like you do, and we won’t win if we’re fighting each other and Botan at the same time. Yes, Takeo, I am protecting those protesting lords and ladies from our lady’s wrath. She would surely see their actions as traitorous, and it’s only a matter of time before her uncle, Lord Virote, finds out what I'm doing and consequences come my way. However, I’d wager you’re a smart enough man to see my side of things. Don’t disappoint me.”
Takeo faltered in place. This conversation was jolting in more ways than one as Lord Yoshida jumped from subject to subject, from one absurdity to the next. It was enough to question the man’s sanity, had Takeo not already had a measure of respect for this old lord. Yoshida, along with being sound of mind, had an impressive military record. He’d fought side by side with the first Hanu shogun, Lady Zhenzhen’s father-in-law, and had more than earned a level of respect. Still, to ask Takeo to defend his detractors? The ronin recoiled at the thought.
And yet he was also a realist. When offered a problem, his mind found a solution.
“You’re protecting Lady Zhenzhen from herself,” Takeo thought out loud. “She would take revenge on those protesting daimyo, immediately, and plunge the Hanu army into a civil war. Then our assault on the Katsus would surely fail, and we’d only leave ourselves weaker while our enemies regained their strength.”
Yoshida grinned.
“You see?” the lord said. “It’s better to let these daimyo have their protest and either deal with them after or watch as they fall in line when we return victorious. Either way, this is only temporary. If you succeed here, the Katsus will fall under Zhenzhen’s command, and Juatwa will be one step closer to being united. Is that not the better way? Wouldn’t you agree?”
Admittedly, Takeo hadn’t thought of that until Yoshida had forced the question. He was used to the late Ichiro Katsu’s style of command: that of an iron fist.
Takeo sighed.
“You’re a clever man, Lord Yoshida,” he said. “No wonder you haven’t been assassinated yet.”
“Politics is a battle all its own, and it pays to be good at it.”
“This still doesn’t address our immediate problem, though,” Takeo replied. “How are we to bring down the Katsu fortress with a quarter of the army missing?”
“We’re going to supplement our numbers with akki.”
Takeo balked.
Akki were the underlings of the oni. Small, lanky, and red-skinned, their cruelty was only outmatched by their cowardice.
“My lord, that’s absurd. There’s a reason we only use the akki for raids and scouting. They break and run at the first sign of trouble, assuming they follow orders at all.”
“True, but we have no other options. It will take a resourceful general to turn them from a liability into an asset. That’s why I’m turning the army over to you.”
Takeo, against all odds, found himself stunned once again. His jaw dropped as he stared at Yoshida.
“My lord?” he asked.
“Effective immediately, you will have total control of this army,” Yoshida went on, crossing his arms over his chest. “Your every order will be obeyed without question, and anyone found disobeying your orders will be held for treason. You can request advice, of course, but you are under no obligation to accept it. You’ll answer solely to our shogun and her heir, and you’ll be treated as a manifestation of her direct will upon the battlefield. You’ll have first pick of any spoils of war, and full credit for the outcome of this battle. You will be addressed as General, so that all will know to whom they are speaking.”
Takeo remained frozen, except to blink.
“I told you that we were going to have a dangerously honest conversation,” the lord continued. “Lord Nobu may be in line for the throne and slated for immortality, but his ineptitude will be a stumbling block every step of the way. He’s young, impressionable, and naive. He cannot lead. As for me, well, I could try, but I will not take such chances. You’ve stood against Lord Botan once already, heavily outnumbered, and survived. You led us to victory against a rakshasa, winning while unconscious and dying of blood loss, mind you. I have no doubts about your abilities now. Lord Nobu will go along with this, we both know, as he’s oddly infatuated with your reputation. As for the other daimyo, those who hate you most are absent and the others I will keep in line. Do what you do best, Karaoshi: win.”
Takeo, to the best of his ability, could not regain control of his basic functions. He was fully aware that he looked like an idiot, standing there with mouth agape and eyes bulging, but he couldn’t seem to do anything about it. Lord Yoshida gazed back, idly, and appeared to contemplate saying more. He thought better though, and turned away from the ronin, mounting his komainu.
“Take what time you need to process this and formulate a plan,” Lord Yoshida said, turning his mount away and signaling to his guards. “I’ll meet you at Lord Nobu’s tent when you’re ready.”
Yoshida made to canter off, and only then did Takeo finally find his voice.
“My lord!” he shouted.
The man stopped and looked over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow. Takeo reddened, as there had been no need to shout. Yoshida hadn’t left yet.
“My lord, I have something to confess,” he said. “This morning, when I left, I found, well—I found my mother. And I brought her back to our camp.”
Takeo couldn’t explain why he said this. There was nothing logical about it. Yoshida didn’t need to know this, and probably didn’t care, yet Takeo felt the urge to say something. The confession had tumbled out before he could retract it, and he stood there, feeling more embarrassed than before.
“Your mother? Truly?”
Takeo could only nod. Yoshida smiled.
“That’s wonderful,” he said. “Good for you.”
“It is?” Takeo replied.
“Of course. What I’d give to have my mother alive again. You’re a lucky man, Takeo.”
And with that, Lord Yoshida rode off, taking with him a measure of respect from a hard, cynical ronin.
No, not a ronin—a general.
* * *
“By Valhalla,” Nicholas said with a gleam in his eye. “You did it!”
Takeo ducked to avoid the viking snatching him up in a lung-crushing hug. Although the two were alone in Takeo’s tent, relatively speaking, it was still an embarrassing maneuver for the ronin, and he eyed Nicholas.
“I thought Gavin got overly excited about things,” he said.
“Excited! How can you be anything but?” Nicholas countered. “This is it! This is what you’ve been fighting for. An army, command, the chance to prove yourself. This is great news, Takeo. We should get drunk.”
