Takeo's Chronicles, page 89
“Determination. You have to want something—anything but yet one specific thing—that will drive you every day to improve. When two warriors of equally skill meet, it’s the one with the greater determination that wins. When the going gets tough, and you want to quit or surrender, it’s only by sheer determination that you will press on. Improvement and legends aren’t built on soft training grounds or completing simple, easy challenges. Such things are earned through blood and pain in times such as these. Watch and learn. When things get tough, the weakest will break first. If your determination is lacking, if your purpose does not consume you, then you will fail. Any warrior’s code worth following will have this at the top of the list. My brother said as much when he told me there were only two rules in combat: to remain calm and never release my weapon. I took those literally, as you all should, too, but there’s a deeper meaning behind those words. If you’re asking what my code would entail, then you can start with that. The first law: a true warrior must be determined.”
Takeo waited for a response, but for the first time since they entered the room, no one had anything to say. He gazed at the rows of samurai seated back on their heels, but each was focused intently on the floor in front of them. Only the occasional stomach growl broke the silence, and Takeo stood up to brush himself off.
“That will be all for today,” he said.
“Thank you, my lord,” Kuniko said.
“My lord, thank you,” Ping quickly followed, and murmurs of similar thanks echoed across the crowd.
Takeo waved a hand through the air to cut them off. “Don’t call me that. I'm not a lord.”
He left, using a simple nod to take Nicholas with him.
“Well, well, well,” the viking sung once they were alone in the hallway. “And here I thought I was the only crazy one in the world.”
“Huh? What do you mean by that?”
“I'm just saying. Seems like I’m not the only one who realizes there’s a lot to be learned from a man like you. You’ve got yourself quite the cult.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Nicholas. I’m not in the mood to be teased,” Takeo replied. “They’re just bored. Nothing but lost and impressionable youth looking for a guide. It’s not a cult.”
“Sure, sure.” Nicholas nodded. “I mean, it’s not like you worshiped your first mentor and devoted your life to his teachings. You weren’t part of a one-man cult at all. Just a young soul in search of advice.”
Takeo’s heart skipped, but he stayed quiet. Nicholas glanced at the samurai and chuckled.
“Yeah,” the viking grinned. “That’s what I thought.”
The next day, Takeo was assailed for more training lessons by Kuniko and her crew, only this time she brought twice as many. Takeo glanced over the crowd and realized everyone was present minus his own entourage, Lord Eun, and Chet’s group. He contemplated denying them, but he could hardly come up with a better scheme to keep control in the face of the coming chaos. They were in the second half of the first month, and he'd have to cut the rations again. Moral needed to be kept up.
Takeo could not afford to say no.
He did set limits, however. He made a hard rule to regale no more than one battle story per day, which consequently led to inventive and complicated first questions on the matter which required Takeo to use a lot of backstory. This seemed to be the part the soldiers enjoyed most, which made Takeo uneasy. He always made sure to counter his stories by then asking for a new set of rumors to deny, trying to empress upon them that he was as mortal as them. This worked for several days up until the rumors started hitting too close to home.
“Is it true you disarmed a gunslinger before she’d fired a shot?” someone asked.
“No,” Takeo replied on instinct, but then froze. “Wait, actually . . . yes. That one actually happened. But the gunslinger was a he.”
And that was just the first.
“I heard you fought a hydra and backed it into the sea!”
“Is it true you faced an entire orc clan and lived?”
“Rumor has it you swing faster than an olgoi-khorkhoi strikes.”
“Did you really tackle a sphinx?”
“How did you and Borota meet? I heard you fought him and won, that you would have killed him, had he not been immortal.”
Suddenly Takeo found himself confirming more rumors than denying them, and by the end of the first month, he decided to stop with that portion of the lessons.
He asked for other questions to fill up time, and he found that beyond his war stories, this younger generation of samurai seemed most interested in just general life advice. Takeo was asked questions on such simple things as how to properly tie a kimono so it wouldn’t come undone, to more complex questions as to whose side to take when parents fought. He was asked how he mourned the dead right alongside with how he kept his sword sharp. For a time, he thought the questions so random that the troops were making them up just to watch him struggle to answer, and yet, each question was listened to with the utmost attention, with detailed follow-up questions coming soon after.
Takeo found himself slightly annoyed, in all honesty, as he thought himself either too overqualified or vastly underqualified to answer a good nine out of ten questions. Combined with the hunger pains, one question got the better of him one day, and he snapped at the student.
“You can’t be serious,” he said to a question on shaving properly. “Do you really not know?”
He expected giggles. He got cold, embarrassed silence, and not just from the one who asked, but from the entire group.
“What?” Takeo asked, stunned. “Do none of you know? Surely someone does. Don’t you have older siblings or parents who taught you?”
“My father died in The Massacre,” the boy whispered. “And I’m the oldest.”
“Me, too,” another said.
“I left for the army before my father could teach me,” Ping spoke up. “He's too old to fight.”
Several more nods swept through the crowd, and the fire in Takeo’s heart went out. He swallowed down a dry throat.
“Oh,” he replied. “Well, alright then. Here’s how.”
He didn’t snap at any other questions after that.
The lessons became a sort of refuge in the storm of chaos. It was a place people could come for a sense of normalcy, and to forget that they were slowly starving to death. In between those sessions, however, the cracks of insanity began to show, especially when Takeo cut the rations again.
Things played out much as he expected. Activity slowed to a crawl, and conversations rarely went beyond slow, dreary complaints about what piece of food sounded delicious in that moment. Takeo could walk into a room only to find a quiet group sprawled in the corner, backs against the wall, looking slack-jawed at nothing. People didn’t turn their heads anymore, when they could look with eyes alone. People didn’t stand at any time, not even to get food, as they realized by now that rushing to the ration line didn’t provide any additional sustenance. Rooftop guard duty became the most hated job in the fort, as it meant having to climb a ladder and stand for long periods of time, only to endure the smell of roasted meat wafting over the walls.
And there was plenty of that to go around. Lord Botan, although seeming to sit idle, was clearly more apt to hasten Takeo’s surrender. The entire last week of the first month saw countless late-night festivals being thrown with drink, music, and food for all. Fire pits were started in every camp with huge slabs of kappa and komainu meat strung on spits, and always closest to the fort. The smell of sizzling fat was carried on every night breeze and descended into their empty bellies like smoke. It made breathing laborious and drooling a problem.
Takeo did his best to combat the hunger by demanding increased water consumption. With luck, they might trick their stomachs into being full, even if they were less mobile at the same time.
That isn’t to say everyone was agreeable.
When people weren’t talking about food, they found other things to argue about. One man got mad at another for sleeping in his favorite spot, another took a slight at having to wait for use of the well. There were other personal disagreements, petty feuds, but Takeo only heard about these in passing. No one was willing to share them with the commander. However, tensions grew, and the first fight broke out between Chet and Ping. Takeo had assigned them to watch the food stores, and they’d gotten into an argument about something or other. Takeo couldn’t be bothered to care as he looked at their bruised faces and then added another by having Nicholas punch them both squarely in the jaw. He then announced that the next people to fight were clearly too well off for his liking, and thus would skip a ration to benefit their less energetic fellows.
That did the trick, though tensions continued to remain high.
Lord Botan came to the wall and demanded Takeo surrender again, this time with an offering of food for anyone brave enough to flee the doomed fort. Takeo made sure to keep everyone off the roof except Lord Eun and Gavin while Krunk and Nicholas guarded the front door. Eun made an attempt at asking for terms, but Takeo immediately cut him off with one steady gaze. The old man went silent, but too much weakness had been displayed, and Botan just smiled and said he’d return in a week to see if we’d changed our minds.
Afterwards, Takeo cut the rations again, and everything took a turn for the worst.
Chapter 27
Krunk grumbled. “Hm, that looks bad.”
Takeo didn’t offer an immediate reply. The two of them were standing on the roof, leaning against the parapet, alongside the soldier who’d summoned Takeo. The ogre had been up here already, using the area as an unlikely place of seclusion and also to look for Emy in the distance. Takeo might have brought Gavin or Nicholas if either of them had been interested, but these days, no one climbed the ladder unless they had to.
In searching for Emy, Krunk had instead spied something unusual happening in one of the Katsu encampments. He’d summoned the soldier over, who’d then shouted down into the fort for Takeo, and now Takeo was looking at the same thing they were.
The Katsu army was hauling out long, saw-cut timbers from the forest.
“How many trees have they brought in?” Takeo asked.
“I’ve seen them bring in perhaps five beams in the last hour, sir,” the soldier replied.
“They must be just getting started,” Takeo replied. “Damn, that is clever.”
“Hm? What?” Krunk said. “What is clever?”
“Lord Botan Katsu. Here I thought he brought his siege equipment with him, like Lady Xuan had, but I’d forgotten how difficult it would be to haul such cumbersome things through this marshy place. It also would have been impractical to bring them by sea, along with all the men and other supplies needed to lay siege to a massive keep like the Hanu one. What a far better idea to just use the huge, thick forests of this region? Plenty of timber, and with the vikings having cleared the place, plenty of time.
“I thought I’d forced Lord Botan’s hand into giving us time. Actually, he’d always intended to wait a month to make his siege equipment. This entire last month, he’s had his forces cutting and shearing timbers, I'll bet, and now they’re bringing it in to be assembled.”
Takeo paused as a hunger pain shot through his body, and he leaned on the wall for support. He closed his eyes and took deep breathes until it passed.
“They’re stacking the wood in piles,” Krunk said. “Can we set them on fire?”
“We could shoot fire arrows at them, sure,” Takeo replied, “but they’ll have water teams at the ready to put them out. There’s nothing we can do except watch and wait.”
“Wait for what?”
“For when they finish,” Takeo said. “They’ll need something to test their equipment on. That’s when our time will run out.” Takeo gave the soldier a nod. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention. I want you to watch them and count the logs they bring in. I might be able to get a count of what we’ll be facing.”
“Sir!” the man answered and bowed.
“Takeo!” came a shout from the ladder.
All three turned to see Nicholas at the top of the ladder, frantic and sweating.
“Takeo! Come, quickly,” Nicholas shouted. “There’s a fight.”
“What do you need me for? Just knock their heads about.”
“It’s not that simple. They’ve drawn weapons.”
A flash of sweat ran down Takeo’s spine, and he sprinted toward the ladder, moving faster than he had in a month. He followed Nicholas down to the ground and then through the fortress, rounding corners until they reached one of the main halls near the food stores. Before they’d even arrived, Takeo could hear the shouting.
“You stupid fatty!” Kuniko yelled. “That thing will kill you.”
“We’re all going to die if it keeps eating our food,” Chet replied. “And I’m not fat anymore. None of us are. All except him! Look at it! Big, bulky, after all this time—it’s stealing food and we all know it. I think it’s time we had some fresh meat for once. Oni meat!”
Takeo’s hands went to his sword, and he sprinted past Nicholas in a flash, darting into the room.
Near everyone was there, arrayed in a large semi-circle with Borota standing in an open corner, seemingly unaffected by the chants and calls for his death. The oni was shaded in darkness, kanabo club still strung across his back, but both hands were crossed over his chest with his right hand so very near to the beloved weapon of his species.
Standing about him like a giant ‘C’ was the entire samurai company, divided in half as far as Takeo could tell, with Kuniko on one side and Chet on the other. Gavin was nearby, standing in front of Yeira with a hand on her belly, looking as if he’d been forced into silence.
“It shouldn’t need food anyway,” Chet continued, shouting into Kuniko’s face. “It’s supposed to be immortal. I say we cut it open and find out!”
Chet had his sword out, and upon finishing the call, raised the naked blade to the air. A good half the samurai cheered with him, drawing and raising their own blades, and Borota breathed deep. Kuniko tried to respond, but her voice was drowned out by the cheering, at least until one person noticed Takeo standing in the doorway, and went silent. A moment later, everyone else noticed, too, and the cheering stopped.
Even Chet paused, momentarily frozen as his eyes went wide, but then he looked sidelong into the crowd. Takeo followed the gaze and found Lord Eun, who gave the boy a slight nod. Chet turned back to Takeo and his spine straightened.
A dark rage seeped into Takeo's chest.
“You fool,” he whispered.
“I told you,” Gavin shouted at Chet from the corner. “You’ve screwed up now, you idiot.”
“Shut up, mercenary. You don’t have any right to command us!” Chet shouted, and an echo of agreement flew up from the crowd. “Even our commander has failed us, doomed us to die for nothing in this pitiful place. And he gives extra rations to his friends. Look!” Chet raised his sword and pointed. “I’m not just talking about the oni. Look at the viking and the ogre! They’re both far too big. Anyone can see that.”
“Muscles doesn’t fade half as fast as fat, you warm-weather coward,” Nicholas responded.
“Look how they talk to us,” Chet pressed.
He opened his mouth to go on, but Takeo took a step forward, and he paused.
“I don’t care why you were put up to this, Chet,” Takeo said calmly, “but you had better stop. If you continue, I’ll consider it treason.”
Chet went still. Gavin gaped.
“Do what he says,” the knight begged.
Chet snarled and whirled on Gavin. “I told you to shut up,” he yelled. “I’ve done nothing treasonous. Nothing! I’m just pointing out the obvious, that Takeo plays favorites and is killing us all just because he won’t be worth anything in trade. Lord Botan will kill him, and all his sellsword crew, and he knows it. He’d rather have us all die instead, and he’d rather feed an oni that his own troops. An oni! Think about that. He’s a tyrant, not a leader, and we don’t have to listen to him. Lord Botan has already promised us survival if only we’ll surrender, and Takeo is standing in our way for selfish reasons. Not honor!”
Takeo took another step forward. “Last chance, Chet,” he said.
The heat in the room dissipated, and it was as if the whole room drew back a pace. Chet went still again, but then his eyes flicked to where Lord Eun was standing.
The old man remained still. Chet turned back to Takeo and pointed his sword at him.
“Prove you’re on our side,” he said. “Slay the oni. Feed us! We’ll never follow a leader who can’t even provide food for his own troops. Don’t be a coward.”
Takeo didn’t reply, other than to take another step forward and put both hands on his sword.
Chet went pale, but his mouth opened nonetheless. “You . . . your . . . your threats won’t work anymore,” he said. “You can’t stop us all. We can do it. We can do it without you. Come on everyone! Let’s do what the traitorous ronin will not. Let’s kill that beast and eat. Come on. Charge!”
Chet raised his sword in the air and howled, then turned and dashed at Borota.
The oni reached up both hands to unsheathe his kanabo, and might have clobbered the young man had Takeo not been infinitely faster. The samurai was a blur of movement, cutting the distance between him and Chet in the span of heartbeat. He drew his blade with one hand, grabbed Chet by the shoulder with another, and tripped the boy in one motion. Chet yelped as his knees slammed to the ground, and Takeo grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked back hard, then placed his blade to the traitor’s throat. Chet’s yelp died the moment the hot metal touched the apple of his neck, and the utter silence that followed was deafening.
