Takeo's Chronicles, page 143
Time, or rather the lack thereof, wasn’t the only factor at play. Lengthy periods of construction brought on logistical issues, morale issues, and engineering issues, to name a few. On top of this all, the Katsu fortress’ design was such that siege engines weren’t truly effective anyway. Even if the Hanu army could bring one of the Katsu walls crumbling down, how would they storm the breach across the moat? Bring in a hastily erected bridge that could be easily destroyed by catapults? Try to damn up the moat while under constant assault from the defenders? These were all problems that needed to be addressed, and yet there were many more issues to conquer. After all, if the army thought they were hard pressed to build a couple of ladders, they were in real trouble trying to cobble together material for siege works. Teams had to be sent out far and wide to different forests, searching for the tallest trees to cut down and haul back so they could be cut to purpose. This vastly increased the chance of conscripted soldiers sneaking off never to be seen again, which wasn’t so unreasonable considering the ladder assault had failed and the army was now on food and water rations. The Hanu hadn’t brought many provisions because they weren't supposed to be needed, and not to mention, the extra weight would have just slowed them down. Botan was supposed to be defeated by now, either at the first battle, in the ladder assault, or through treachery by bribing someone on the Katsu side to lower the gate.
That hadn’t worked out, though, thanks in no small part to Takeo himself. Botan’s extra measures guarding the gatehouse had paid off, and the one man they’d found willing to sell his shogun out had been caught and strung up on the ramparts.
So, catapults it was, then, and that was a poor idea.
Takeo encountered all the problems Botan had faced some time ago. Time begat chance, and chance begat folly and bad luck. One of Takeo’s wood-scouting teams never returned, and the party sent to investigate found the group had been set upon by a roaming komainu pack. Another team lost an entire day’s work when they had to abandon their site to a gashadokuro. These problems meant less volunteers to go out beyond the safety of the camp, and less volunteers meant more forced labor, and more forced labor meant more desertions, which wouldn’t have been such an issue if the Hanu army wasn’t already short on able-bodied soldiers already.
As if that weren’t enough, disease wrought havoc upon the camp.
It shouldn’t have happened. Takeo had placed the latrines far away to prevent this exact thing, but some people were lazy and either didn’t clean themselves right or just decided to relieve themselves upon a rival’s tent rather than walk the distance out to the pits. Rivalries started, two men died from stab wounds, Takeo hung three more, and dozens died when the water source was contaminated. Small numbers, really, but for every one that perished, ten more were infected and put out of commission as the disease worked them over, and the Hanu doctors were run ragged trying to keep everyone alive. That meant fewer people to work, and that meant the catapults were delayed, and that meant more chances for things to go wrong. The best Takeo could hope for was that Botan was suffering similarly.
All the while, Gavin’s fate weighed heavily upon him.
Every delayed day, every cowardly desertion, every missed opportunity was internalized by Takeo as a personal failure on his part to save his friend. Takeo cursed himself for not having the gall to beat Gavin senseless the day the knight decided to walk off.
What was I thinking? I knew this would happen, and yet I did nothing. What stopped me? Knowing that he’d hate me for it? So what? At least he’d have his body, and his family, and a chance at life. Wasn’t that the entire point of sparing Yeira? So that at least one of us—not me, not Emily, not Krunk, not Nicholas, not anyone else—at least one of us would have the chance to be happy? What stayed my hand? What a fool I was. And look who pays the price.
“Poor Gavin,” Nicholas would say. “At least I was never mutilated when I was imprisoned, you know? Damn, I hope they’re not doing the same to Krunk.”
The viking muttered this phrase and others like it often as the weeks went by, unhelpfully and with a strong dose of melancholy. Nicholas moped about the camp like it was his job, complaining far less than Takeo would have liked. Takeo tried to alleviate this by giving him duties, like watching over the catapult construction. However, that just set the two of them further apart, and Nicholas and Takeo fought separate battles against the same enemy. Nicholas took to drink like he usually did, while Takeo tried to take to solitude but could not. He was a general now, and besides, he had help against his demons.
No one would guess by looking at her, but Mako was a lighthouse in the storm that was Takeo’s life. As he struck out upon the dark and turbulent waters of the future, it gave him solace to look back to the shores of the past. Mako was everything he couldn’t be—passionate, innocent, forgiving—and in a way, she represented the exact person he was trying to save. Warfare and chaos left nothing but casualties, and it was Takeo’s purpose to enforce order upon the violence that had taken so much from everyone.
In the future he’d help create, there would be no need for men like his brother, or even like himself.
Mako did more than that, of course. Humble as she was, she did not mind common chores, such as keeping Takeo’s tent homey and clean, reminding him to eat when his duties pressed him for time, and waking him when night terrors struck him. Surely many thought they were lovers, but Takeo ignored the gossip. The rumors prevented Mako from being harassed, at least. No one in their right mind wanted to bother the general’s mistress.
Mako also became indispensable when illness struck Dhyana. Her infection shouldn’t have been a surprise, considering her age and previous lifestyle. Villagers that rarely left home tended to get isolated from the diseases that assailed large populations, leaving them vulnerable when exposed later on.
Dhyana laid up in a tent near Takeo’s, and Mako waited on her with the concern of a relative. In the absence of a battle, Ping had retaken his guard duties, now more enthusiastic and also showing equal concern for Dhyana’s well-being. Takeo didn’t visit, not often at least, though he never stopped Mako from updating him on the old woman’s condition. Things didn’t sound life-threatening, just a slight fever and tiredness. Word was that Qing had checked on her and then promptly disappeared. Takeo figured that was for the best. He slept better without that elf nearby.
But he did visit his mother eventually.
It took a couple weeks before the catapults were well under construction and the workload wasn’t so demanding. He and Mako had their evening tea with her, sitting about like, well, a family.
It made Takeo nervous.
“Oh, it's so good to see you again,” Dhyana croaked, taking a drink of her tea.
She was wrapped in a warm blanket and supported by a host of pillows Takeo had scavenged from Lord Nobu’s vast supplies. He doubted the prince would notice.
“It’s the least I can do,” Takeo replied, unable to formulate a better response.
“You’ve been busy, I hear,” she continued.
Takeo glanced at Mako, and the beauty took a long drink of her tea with both hands. He wasn’t mad, though. It should have been obvious that information flowed both directions.
“There’s a lot of work to be done,” Takeo answered. “And I don’t trust anyone else to do it. There’s too much at stake. Too many lives.”
“Including that friend of yours.”
She looked at him expectantly, with sunken eyes from lack of sleep and a nose reddened by agitation. Against his instinct, Takeo couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt at her condition.
“Yes,” he said, but stopped as a coughing fit overtook Dhyana.
He sipped his tea as she recovered.
“Can I—oh, excuse me—achoo!” Dhyana paused to rub her red nose. “Can I ask what that man is to you?”
Takeo looked to Mako again, but she shook her head.
“I don’t know. You’ve never told me,” she said. “I never got to meet him before he left, either. And I’ll not ask the viking. He scares me.”
“It’s just, I can tell what’s happening to him bothers you,” Dhyana continued. “And he must be important for Lord Botan to torture him so. Every time we’ve talked, I’ve told you about myself, but it’s you I want to hear about. I want to know my son. Maybe you’re not ready to share about yourself just yet, but what about him? Who is this Gavin, a knight from Lucifan? And why did it take his severed hand for us to meet?”
Takeo took another sip of tea.
I’m hesitating to answer. Why? Isn’t this what I came here for? I knew we’d talk, that she’d want to talk. Is that such a bad thing? I feel lost here, like I don’t know what to do or say. But maybe that’s okay.
In the silence, Lord Yoshida’s advice came to mind, and Takeo decided if there was anyone’s opinion to follow, it would be his. The old man had made it far in life. He must know a thing or two.
“We loved the same woman,” Takeo said.
Mako blinked. Dhyana raised an eyebrow.
“From what I know of men, that sort of thing typically divides rather than unites,” Dhyana said.
“It did, for a time,” Takeo went on. “In fact, I almost killed him the first time we met. But then we both lost her, and I guess that pain was all we had in common.”
“I’m getting the sense that shared loss creates a strong bond for you.”
As she finished saying this, Dhyana took a sip of her tea and let her gaze drift to Mako. The younger woman didn’t meet it.
“I never thought of it that way,” Takeo admitted, “but I suppose you’re right.”
“This may not be the same in your eyes, but you know we share a loss, too, that of your father.”
“I, uh, don’t believe I’d call that a loss. After all, how can I lose something I never had?”
Dhyana smiled, which gave Takeo pause. He hadn't expected that response.
“It wasn’t his decision to be absent from your life,” she said.
“Actually, it’s the opposite from what I hear, taking that assassination job.”
“Weizhe would have cared for you if given the chance. He wasn’t afraid of fatherhood. As far as the attack on the Katsu family is concerned, I don’t know why he did it, but I assure you there was some measure of good in his heart when he accepted the job.”
“You speak as if you knew him well. And here I thought he was just a client of yours.”
“You’d be surprised.”
“Maybe,” Takeo said, then paused.
He’d been about to rattle off his next words without a thought, but then the weight of them hit home. He swallowed down his pride, and the steel cage he’d put around his heart opened just a little.
“Maybe one day you can tell me about him?”
Dhyana stared back, wide-eyed and unblinking.
“Yes,” she said. “Maybe one day I will.”
And when next Takeo visited, she did.
Chapter 13
“Making a living lying on your back has some advantages, if you're lucky,” Dhyana started, fresh tea in one hand, blanket wrapped around her sickly body with the other. “Contrary to the stories, not every man who pays for the company of a woman is a knave harboring violent intentions. Many are just lonely, a bit broken and wanting someone to make them feel whole again, even if it’s only for the night. Another large portion of our customers are simple free spirits looking for a good time, incapable of harming anyone intentionally. These people can be enjoyed by us just as much as we are enjoyed by them, and the line between personal and professional can blur. Your father, when I met him, fell into the latter category.
“His name was Weizhe Karaoshi, and he was handsome. That always helps. I remember that he had trouble growing facial hair so shaved himself clean because it wasn’t worth the trouble, and he had a command about him that made you feel that no matter what window he fell out of, he’d always land on his feet. He was always broke and in need of money, but that’s only because he spent everything he earned, as if he were living on borrowed time from the start. Of course, that didn’t stop him from making outrageous claims about his wealth. The first time he saw me, he strode over, wrapped an arm about my waist and proclaimed loudly that he was going to spoil me rotten.
“I suppose in some regards, he did.
“Your father spent his time with lots of women, at first, but over time he took preference to me. He visited me more often, stopped trying to short me on coin, and brought me gifts. I couldn’t say why for certain. When we spent time together, he liked to talk about himself, and perhaps that’s why he came to me. I liked to listen. Your father might have been from Juatwa, but he had wanderlust in his heart.
“Weizhe told me about the world, and all the things he’d seen. How he’d sparred with kshatriya in the desert sands of Savara and dueled a pirate crew one-by-one for free passage to Lucifan. Those were his favorite stories, by the way. Weizhe was proud of his fighting skills. I don’t think he ever had an aim to be the best swordsman in the world, but he did have a desire to fight them all. He loved a challenge, loved to fight, though rarely in anger. He traveled east to west, chasing the sun and dueling any worthy of the art. That’s what he called it, art. I think something about sword fighting made him feel alive, even more so than gambling, drinking, or spending time with me. He was addicted to life on the edge, one could say, never more miserable than when living a life of comfort.
“Well, he made it as far as the Forest of Angor, and there he claimed to have charmed a little elf girl who taught him techniques he’d never known existed. He said after those lessons, he’d yet to be beaten, and that was the saddest part of all. Like a drunk gaining tolerance to alcohol, your father ever so slowly had to ramp up the danger he faced, just to feel that thread of life pulsing through his veins.
“I can’t count the number of times he came to me wounded. I think he liked how I fussed over him, dressed the wound, and asked how it happened, just so he could tell me every detail.
“He liked to end his visits with fruitless promises, like how he’d come back and take me away, either to some village farm where we’d catch kappa or off to one of those wonderful places he visited, like Lucifan. I would entertain him, say how lovely that all sounded, but never held him to it. I knew he didn’t mean it. He just said those things because he thought it’s what I wanted to hear. Perhaps I was cruel not to correct him. Maybe we women just love to hear men promise to give it all up for us.
“Either way, something strange began to happen. I found myself missing him at night, after he’d gone, and waiting on edge for him to return. When I was with other men, I’d pretend they were him, or otherwise dream about him at night. I thought it was love at the time, but after having had you, Takeo, I’m not sure what it was. Something more than lust, though, and I knew I’d always remember him. That was something to say back then when I saw new faces every day. I even remember when I saw him last.
“He’d grown depressed towards the end. He’d risen quickly in the Katsu ranks, blessed as he was with his sword. It wasn’t just the lack of challenge, but the nature of his duty. He couldn’t say much to me directly, as a shogun’s upper ranks are sworn to secrecy, but he could hint. It seemed that with his new rank, he’d gained a new level of responsibility, and also unique, grim tasks. They were tasks that made a carefree, happy man like your father lose sleep at night. He was drunk more often and didn’t smile so easily. His tone grew dark whenever he spoke of the shogun, and he made mention of how he didn’t like the way Okamoto took to this new profession so aptly. Your brother joined the samurai ranks young, very young, and it seemed everyone was uncomfortable about that except for the shogun and Okamoto. Weizhe's fleeting promises grew rather specific as time went on, asking me if I’d like to stay in Juatwa, but further north in Nguyen territory. I didn’t take this seriously, though, until I got pregnant.
“I won’t get into the details, but I knew you were his. I was terrified for you, that you might end up just like Okamoto. I may have loved your father more than most, but not as much as I loved you. So, I ran away, young and naive without giving him the chance to make things right. Sometimes I wonder if he took that assassination job because of me. Perhaps that’s how Okamoto knew to find me. Weizhe had found me and it was his plan to escape that night of the assassination and take me and you away to the Nguyen lands. I don’t know. All I can tell you is that it sounds like something Weizhe would do, something heroic and courageous, yet also foolish and brash. It was his last challenge, you could say, to kill a shogun, and he met his match.
“If he were here, he’d have two things to say to you. Firstly, that he’d be proud of the warrior you’ve become. However, secondly, he’d tell you to lighten up.”
* * *
Takeo wanted to share this story with some people, but most of them were dead or unavailable. Nicholas didn't fit any of those categories, but Takeo was out of options.
“By Valhalla,” Nicholas said, slurring the words as he took another drink. “Your head must be spinning.”
“I will say Lord Botan made a good bet, bringing me to her,” Takeo replied, taking the bottle from Nicholas to take a gulp for himself. “Were I not a general with responsibilities piling on my shoulders all the time, I might crack under all this uncovered mystery. No wonder my brother sheltered me from it all. He knew none of it would change my position and would only serve to distract me. I can’t believe it. My father actually sounds like a man I would have liked. He sounds like . . . he sounds like Gavin.”
“See, I’m over here still thinking about your mother. I cannot believe how much like my own mother she is. I mean, it’s just crazy thinking about it. Both our moms had these eventful, amazing lives—”
