Takeo's Chronicles, page 159
“It’s that damn rakshasa, I know it,” Takeo said as the four—or five, including Pranav—reentered the Hanu camp. “In-Su and Seiji wouldn’t have left the safety of their main fortress without Qadir’s express insistence that their survival depended on it. Now all three are holed up in fortresses spread across the Nguyen lands, each with a full garrison untarnished by fighting me, unlike Botan had done.”
The Hanu supply convoy and baggage train had arrived just a week prior, so the Hanu camp was a hive of activity, a little city in its own right. Traders, messengers, and escorts had established a string of outposts between the Takeo encampment and the foremost Hanu city, meaning a person could travel by mount in relative safety and ease from the main fight to the Hanu capital and back again, which meant a host of lords, ladies, advisors, servants, cooks, scribes, and many more were stocking Takeo’s ranks and weighing down his army’s mobility.
Not that Takeo could be angry or dismissive with these particular daimyos. Their mere presence indicated they had come to accept—or even embrace—Takeo’s leadership. On the contrary, Takeo needed these people and more like them. They were casting their dice with his lot, which meant his failure would have dire penalties for them, too, so Takeo did not dare send them away. It was well known by now that Lady Zhenzhen intended to marry the ronin upon him winning the war, so ambitious royals were setting up shop to take advantage of the change in power. Takeo could hardly blame them; on the contrary, this was exactly what he wanted.
However, that didn’t mean he had to entreat them personally. For that, he had two much better suited to the task.
Kuniko Zhao was a daimyo in her own right, and she took to corralling royalty as well as she took to motivating troops. Honestly, Takeo didn’t know what he’d do without her. Yet, she was only one woman, so it was fortunate for all parties involved that she had help.
Anagarika Katsu was much older than Kuniko. She had children of her own and a host of diplomatic skills earned over a lifetime trying to survive the regicidal bloodbath that had been the Katsu family in the wake of Lord Ichiro’s death so many years ago. To Takeo’s understanding, Anagarika was to Botan what Kuniko had been to Takeo, minus the blind zealotry. While Botan won wars and captured hearts and minds, she had worked to keep the lower caste of daimyo entertained and informed, as well as to ensure that Botan’s far-fetched battle plans had the necessary logistical backing to attain victory. The two cousins had formed a meaningful business arrangement, cut short by Takeo’s blade to Botan’s throat. If Anagarika was in any way vindictive over her younger cousin’s death, she hid it well.
Since joining Takeo’s war effort, Anagarika had quickly become indispensable. Soft spoken and meek, she was an outward opposite to Kuniko’s brash style. However, Anagarika was no less skilled in getting people to do as she wished. Armed with guile and indirect threats, she’d managed to convince the entire Katsu clan not to openly revolt against their new ruler. On the contrary, she’d even managed to wrestle away their ranks of samurai to bolster Takeo’s army.
Takeo had responded in kind by increasing her position of power, as was Lord Ichiro’s way back in the day. Takeo still knew little about ruling, so he took his cues from the only one he’d known to be successful at it. The late Lord Ichiro had been a savant at recognizing talent and then tying it to himself through a combination of ruthlessness and special treatment. It was simple; people were faithful to power and fearful of punishment. Ichiro had been the source of both, and Takeo tried to be, as well.
So, between Anagarika and Kuniko, Takeo could once again focus on what he did best: killing.
The four ditched their mounts upon returning to camp, and Takeo’s honor guard resumed their posts at his side, clearing the way as he marched through the rows of tents. Samurai and conscripts alike rose and bowed as he walked by, pausing in everything they did to acknowledge their general, the man shrouded in that irresistible combination of mystery, infamy, and victory. All the while, the great mountain of the Nguyen fortress cast its shadow upon them. More than a few curious glances fell upon the young boy, Pranav, as he fought against the iron grip of the rakshasa that dragged more than guided him along.
Kuniko intercepted Takeo’s path the moment word spread of his return.
“The war has changed,” Takeo said to her as he marched through the camp. “I'll need to meet with the lords and ladies. Fetch Anagarika and have her gather them. There’s nothing secretive about our next move. Is Qing back yet?”
“No, my lord.”
“Hm, that can’t be good. What about Nicholas? Where is that sack of meat?”
“His usual spot, my lord,” she said with a smile. “Sometimes I think he sleeps there.”
Takeo diverted from his current route to the mess hall.
As a viking, a giant, and a braggart, Nicholas loved little else beyond eating, drinking, and attention. He spent an exorbitant amount of time consuming all three in the only communal area in the camp beyond the latrine and the training grounds. The mess hall had everything Nicholas desired, and Takeo could hear the place roaring over the viking’s tales long before he could see it. The place was in such a state of bedlam that not even Takeo’s approach was noticed.
Nicholas occupied the middle-most section of the tent, towering over those around him, speaking in that boisterous voice of his. In one hand, he held a slab of kappa meat, in the other, a stein containing enough booze to pacify a minotaur.
“You were there?” Nicholas boomed at a man with a thick mustache directly in front of him. “I can’t believe it! Finally, a witness.”
“I saw the whole thing, and I can barely believe it,” the man shouted back, grinning just as wide.
A roar of laughter filled the tent.
“Tell them,” Nicholas commanded, slamming his drink on the table, then pointing to a table just down the way. “Those doubters!”
“He tells the truth!” The man shouted, eagerly. “I was right there, Lord Botan just paces away. That oni came out of nowhere and struck the Dark Lord down, and then BOOM! This behemoth charges out of nowhere and lays into the creature with nothing but a hammer. The knight and the purple beast were there, too, but it’s true. The Immortal Slayer earned his name that day and laid open that oni’s head like a melon.”
The following roar was deafening.
“I have to say,” one man said, sitting next to the one with a mustache, “I miss Botan sometimes, but I’m all too glad to be fighting with you rather than against you, Immortal Slayer. Let’s just say you were mentioned in the Katsu circles.”
“Ah, that’s just the way of life for a soldier,” Nicholas replied. “It’s no different for vikings. You fight for one lord, for honor, glory, and coin, until you fight for another, and former friends become enemies, and vice versa.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” someone shouted in the back.
That call raised a grumble of agreement, yet it also paused the conversation long enough for someone to notice Takeo’s presence. A young soldier, as it happened to be, who nearly choked on her food before standing to attention, then adding a bow. Her movement broke the dam, and the entire tent noticed Takeo, and soldiers flung themselves to attention and silence to show their respect.
They could be forgiven for taking so long to notice. Officers didn’t eat in the mess hall, among the common rabble, so Takeo hadn’t been expected. Not that he was too good to eat with the normal crew, but Takeo had gotten used to taking his personal chef’s meals in his tent where he could enjoy some solitude for once.
Takeo nodded to his troops before singling out Nicholas with a look. A quick cock of the head, and the meaning was discerned.
“Ah, sorry lads,” Nicholas said, draining his mug. “Duty calls.”
“At ease,” Kuniko commanded as Nicholas and Takeo left the tent.
“Well, well, well,” Gavin commented with arms folded across his chest. “It seems your aspirations are finally coming to fruition. You have a name now. I’m still just ‘the knight,’ or if I’m unlucky, ‘the traitor.’ Must be nice.”
“Hey now, don’t be bitter,” Nicholas replied. “When I get the chance, I stick up for you. I let everyone know what a mockery you made of me on that hill that day with your shield. But yes, if you weren’t paying attention, I’m finally getting the renown I deserve, no thanks to any of you.”
Gavin missed the sarcasm in those last words, his eyes falling at the mention of his shield to his left arm, severed at the wrist. He’d never wield a shield again.
“Oh, uh, sorry,” Nicholas said, cringing. “I didn’t mean to, uh, well, erh, Takeo? I’m assuming you had good reason to pull me away from good food and drink?”
“Aren’t you curious about where we went?” Takeo replied.
“Not in the slightest. I’ll find out soon enough, and I already got what I wanted out of this war. You just tell me where to lay this, and we’ll be right as rain like always.”
Nicholas flicked a thumb to the giant maul strapped to his back. Takeo, in turn, flicked a finger to Emy, whose death grip on Pranav’s clothes had not loosened a hair. Nicholas regarded the boy, as if noticing him for the first time, and narrowed one eye.
“You want me to kill a kid?”
“Not yet,” Takeo replied. “For now, I just need you to watch him.”
“Wait, now I’m even more confused. Have you not been paying attention? I’ve just been regaling a tent full of hardened samurai warriors about how I saved your ass from an oni, and you reward me with babysitting duties? This is a joke, right? Gavin, please tell me our little friend here has finally developed a sense of humor.”
Gavin blinked, but otherwise didn’t move a muscle. Nicholas smacked his own forehead.
“What did I do to get stuck with two lifeless shells as companions,” the viking muttered, dragging his fingers down his face and putting his gaze on Pranav. “Lucky me.”
“Don’t let his size or age fool you,” Takeo said. “I’ve already watched this child perform an act of great stupidity. Watch him closely.”
“Aye, of course, my Black King.”
“That’s not what they call me.”
“Inky Chieftain.”
“Why do I put up with you?”
Nicholas shrugged and gestured to Emy. The rakshasa chucked Pranav like a ragdoll, though his feet didn’t leave the ground but for a half second, to Nicholas. The boy hit the ground, stumbled, then went to dash off with all his speed. The viking only just caught him by the collar, and Pranav tripped with a yelp before hitting the ground again.
“Oh ho! You weren’t kidding. Feisty one,” Nicholas said. “Hey wait, where are you going?”
Takeo had already turned away and was walking off, Emy and Gavin in tow.
“Why should I tell you?” Takeo replied, retreating. “You already said you didn’t care.”
“Humor me,” Nicholas called back. “In return for this crap job you’ve given me.”
“To tell my advisors how screwed we all are.”
Chapter 4
Takeo used to have only one tent to contend with: where he slept. Lord Nobu had had ownership of all the others, such as the dining tent, bathing tent, entertainment tent, receiving tent, messenger tent, music tent, weapon tent, command tent, writing tent, and conceivably every other noun associated with war or luxury. Now that Nobu was dead, though, all those tents so liberally devised by the Lady Zhenzhen had passed onto Takeo, reluctantly.
They remained just as unused under their new owner as their former, all except the command tent.
Takeo wasn’t just a general of the army now. As Lady Zhenzhen’s rumored fiancé, he was commander and soon-to-be emperor of a soon-to-be conquered land. As much as diplomacy pained him, Takeo needed a place outside his normal sleeping quarters to formulate battle plans and disseminate multiple reports. In addition, the tent needed to be large enough to accommodate all those parties interested in his success, which was a fair number by now. Where once Takeo only met with his close entourage and perhaps one or two daimyo, he now had to make room for over a dozen lords, ladies, their personal advisors, and even their attendants, because heavens forbid that some royal run out wine in their shallow cup.
But this was a small price to pay for warriors and supplies. Above all else, Takeo needed bodies, preferably well-trained and strong bodies, and these daimyo had brought them.
So now Takeo called a meeting. The daimyo wasted no time in flocking to the command tent, and soon Takeo’s command tent was once more a well-stocked room buzzing with gossip and anticipation. Lady Anagarika was there, as was Lord Oiu, and newly risen members of the Choi, Han, Zhao, and Yang families. All were people with a right to hate Takeo, as he had in some way or another caused the death of one or more members of their families, yet here they were. Takeo had Juatwa tradition to thank for that. The constant state of war this land thrived under meant that the conquered were used to shifting alliances to their conquerors, and deaths in the family weren’t immediately seen as a cause for vendetta as much as a door to opportunity. Without murder, it would be hard to advance in Juatwa society.
Like Kuniko had once said: There were plenty eager to follow Takeo into victory; they just needed a reason.
Once all were present, Takeo raised a hand and brought swift silence to the tent. The daimyo watched as the ronin paced to the map in the center, strewn with miniature figures representing the army, and began to shift them about without a word. The map was a representation of Juatwa as a whole, as the war was being waged on that scale, full of little wooden figures representing armies, castles, supply lines, and cavalry. The largest portion had been concentrated at the top about the Nguyen fortress, but more than a few hushed whispers broke out as Takeo grabbed two thirds of this number and scattered them across the map. One portion he swept to the eastern end of the Nguyen lands, the other portion to the west. He paused, then shifted a handful of scouting groups with apathy. He scanned the map, re-counted the new configuration, then spoke aloud.
“Xianliang, in his infinite wisdom, did not murder his two younger brothers,” Takeo said. “Seiji and In-Su are alive and well, and they have each taken a third of the Nguyen forces and holed themselves up in the fortresses of other families, the Phan and Ngo fortresses, respectively. Needless to say, this complicates things. If I try to focus on only one brother at a time, that will leave us open to retaliation from the other two. For all I know, Seiji and In-Su are on their way to attack us right now, and they’d surely win with our forces spread out in a vulnerable pattern. Obviously, this is a risk I can’t afford to take, and scouting groups won’t be enough to give us ample warning. To ensure this war isn’t ended prematurely, I’m dividing up our forces and laying siege to all three cities.”
A muffled shock swept the crowd, though this was to be expected, and Takeo did not address it. The Nguyen fortress alone was impregnable enough to hold off the army Takeo had summoned. How was he going to take two more, and each with a third the original number?
He addressed this unspoken question.
“One of these fortresses will be weaker than the others,” Takeo said. “I will inspect each, personally, and make my decision which is to fall first. Then our forces will re-concentrate, and the original plan will resume. This is nothing but a stumbling block, an attempt to dissuade my efforts—and yours. Do not falter, as others have done in the past, and you’ll partake in the glory you’ve all come to witness.
“Until then, here are my orders. I’m leaving Lady Kuniko here to maintain the siege of the Nguyen fortress, as well as the brute you all love to mention named Nicholas. I expect most of you will want to stay here, as well, as you’ve already set up a fine camp, and that is fine by me. For those of you wishing for a change in scenery, I will be going to the Phan fortress first, where Seiji resides, and Lady Anagarika will accompany me. She’ll oversee the siege there. As for you, Lord Oiu, I’m sending you with Qing to encircle the last place, the Ngo city, where you’ll await my arrival. Do not engage with your brother until I’m there, not even to speak to him. Qadir is a dastardly fellow, and I have no doubts he’ll try to kill you when I’m not around, hence Qing will go with you.”
“My lord, you are as kind as you are wise,” Oiu replied, bowing graciously.
As much as it irked him, Takeo ignored the flattery. He’d learned by now that such comments were too ingrained in Oiu to alter now. He’d survived by such groveling for too long to act differently. Takeo tapped the table once with a knuckle.
“Any questions?” He said and glanced about the tent.
None spoke up.
“Good.”
And with that, the meeting was adjourned. Takeo left the tent with Emy and Gavin behind him. He’d made no mention of them because there had been no need. He commanded more with silence than others could do with words.
Upon returning to his personal tent, Takeo was surprised to find his guards weren’t the first ones to greet him. Instead of concentrating about the entryway, they were spread out, giving wide berth to the small, chubby boy in the center. It took Takeo a half second to recognize Pranav, and another half second to scan the area for Nicholas.
The viking wasn’t far off. He’d found a seat on a small stool next to a weapon rack, where he sat comfortably with arms folded and a wide grin stretched across his face.
Pranav bared his teeth and put a piercing gaze on Takeo. Somewhere, somehow, the boy had acquired another sword, which he held in both hands and at the ready. He stared down the ronin. A couple of the guards chuckled.
Takeo stopped and cocked an eyebrow.
“I challenge you!” Pranav roared, or rather shouted in that high-pitched tone of children who haven’t quite reached puberty.
The guards chuckled again, but one glance from Takeo silenced that. The men straightened and shared looks, suddenly not so sure it was a good idea to allow this lunacy.
Not Nicholas, though. He kept smiling.
