The Scythe and the Seer, Book 3 of the Enchanter's Cycle

General Nobuyuki sat at the head of the table in his family’s private manse in the West District, near the narrow border linking West, South, and Central Districts.

Hundreds of his hired soldiers patrolled the grounds and the nearby refugee camps, alert for signs of vampyres. He sat in silence, with each of his counselors and captains, all former members of the Hitorigami’s Military.

Every one of them, hardened souls, feared to say a word in his presence, with good reason. He had underestimated the resolve of that brat on the throne, and it’d cost him dearly. Spending his wealth to repair the West District...hardly a fitting reward for his efforts in checking the schemes of the Pirate Lords for decades before this conflict. He would not stand for it.

“This child will be no end of trouble.” he finally said, and was met by the disappointing but not entirely expected incredulous expressions of his subordinates.

“Wait and listen!” he snapped, interlocking his hands, “There is no disrespect intended to the royal family; they have safeguarded this nation for centuries. It is this Suizei, this untested boy, who I find disagreeable. He was not ascended by his own right or by the will of his successor, may he rest in peace; Itaku handed him the post. Itaku decided which member of the family led this land. I find that suspicious. Actually, I find that traitorous.”

Waiting to see if anyone protested, Nobuyuki continued, “Itaku decided this nation’s leader. Why? I do not contest his valor, only his judgment and his authority. This nation needs a leader who will protect our people, safeguard our interests, and not tolerate these...these outsiders! Teikoku is our land. It is not a commodity to be given on a whim!”

He scowled, “The Pirate Lords were bad enough, and giving their associate, Kiromichi, this station before me was unforgivable! Lordship, likewise, is a right of natives of this land, not a prize to bestow upon the previous Hitorigami’s pet and some refugee from a dead planet.”

“I will not tolerate this crime upon my people.” he decided, seeing the nervous expressions of those gathered relax as his words took hold, “What I propose is not rebellion, or sedition. I suggest that a rightful ruler be named among the royal family, one who understands the people of this land, and does not bow to Itaku or this foreign filth. One who will lead us to extinguish the poisonous influences of the Skraul, the Silkrit, the Kamiyonanayo, and who knows what other devils plague this land. But this new ruler needs your help as well as mine. Will you provide it...?”

She woke to the warm touch of her beloved.

Arteth was laying on his side, facing her, caressing her cheek. He flinched as she woke fully, but only for a moment. After that, a tired smile spread across his face.

“Were you dreaming of me?” he asked, to which she frowned, suddenly very confused.

“No.” she replied, matching his troubled expression, “I can’t remember what I dreamed of...or the previous night either.”

“How wrapped I was in a cocoon of my own anguish...” he said after a time, weary, “That I have forgotten why we have come here in the first place. Today will be a better day, I promise you.”

Stretching the fatigue from her limbs, Kaileena slid into his arms, resting her head against his chest. She heard Shinabi bark excitedly, resting as he was at the foot of their bed.

“I know it was difficult for you.” she said sadly, considering recent events, “Coming back here. What they said to you...your family. But as my husband, my family is yours as well. It’s not the same. But...”

“I need no more family than what we will create together.” Arteth said simply, “The rest is optional for my happiness. Worry not.”

His meaning occurred to her, “A Kamiyonanayo and a Silkrit can...?-”

“Of course.” he interjected, “How do you think we created the El’Dari with the Humans? It was the environment of this planet and the interbreeding between our species that created the Moonshadow variant of Silkrit that you yourself are a member of. All it will take is a certain ritual and we can make preparations for new life.”

“I would like that.” Kaileena replied with genuine excitement, forgetting her earlier despair and doubt and the constant strain of the Phoenix Stone...and was rewarded by almost losing control again, “...Very much.”

“Go, then.” Arteth told her, “I cannot return to a city held by my “kin”, but I have divined the closest living relatives to Uchiki. A portal is waiting in the central hall that will take you to Aurummn Calca; a large city where they currently reside. Go from the entry pad in the main courtyard to the left-most street all the way to the coliseum and beyond. You will find a three-tiered house fenced in, with unusual shrubbery. That is your destination.”

“What about you?” she asked, brushing her fingers down his side, “I can’t just leave you here. A poor wife I would be.”

“Go on ahead.” he said reassuringly, “I have some work to do. If you wish we can hold the ritual four days from now. Until then, find your family. The road has been difficult, and as your husband I am prepared to go without you for a short time so you can enjoy yourself. A short time, I repeat.”

Truly grateful, Kaileena kissed him, and he returned in kind, “None of that now; how will I be able to concentrate?”

“I know not, so I will leave Shinabi with you to make certain that you cannot.”

“Kaileena...” he said gravely as she rose to gather her things, stopping her, “...If things become...difficult, for any reason. Call my name, and exile or not I will be there in a moment. I swear it by my power as Firstborn of Lord Surthath, curse his name until the end of time.”

Another day...

His ankle still throbbed abominably in its splint, but Koukatsuna breathed a sigh of relief when he undid the gauze bandages around his ribs and found the wound nearly healed aside from a knot of puffy flesh around the edges of the injury. It would harden, then shrink, and it would definitely leave a nasty scar.

His right eyelid still had not opened, however, and that troubled him. He’d had healers appraise it, as well as the local enchanter, who had sped up his body’s natural regeneration. The eyeball hadn’t burst, so that was good, but if the pupil had been punctured under the healed lid he might not be able to use it again. That would disrupt his movements, throw off his highly ambidextrous fighting style, and even possibly leave him unable to fight at all.

And it was his damned eye! His! He felt wronged by the very real possibility that he could be crippled, or at least handicapped in some way, in any way. He was Koukatsuna, ultimate warrior! He had wrestled Koriko, outrun Alaae, and outsmarted Mrrg. What was he to be reduced to the state where he could kill lesser vampyres only with difficulty? Or was he to be unable to fight at all?!

He punched the wall, then again, then again. He pulled back bruised knuckles and felt no better.

“This is beneath me.” he chided himself, “I am Koukatsuna, ultimate warrior. If I lose an eye and must fight with one sword, then I will fight with one sword. If my weapons are gone I will use my claws. If my arms are chopped off I will fight with my teeth, damn it.”

Gritting those very teeth, he rose to his feet without the aid of a crutch, enduring the discomfort. It was painful, but his ankle could support his weight again. He decided then on to walk only with a cane. None of that other shit.

After a quick soak to clean himself off, he put on a simple cloak. Taking up his weapons, Koukatsuna walked out of his room, determined not to waste time brooding. He had a good deal of work to do...

Larlax scrambled down endless stairs made of black ice. He shrieked in terror, babbling wildly like a child.

Horrid, vile images flashed through his fevered mind, blasphemous, insane notions that flew in the face of the logic and reason indicative of sane minds. He stumbled blindly, awash in the madness eating at his soul, until he lost all sense of control and tumbled.

Wind; cold, bitter wind, struck him, threatening to push him over the edge and into the abyss. Embers rose up from the unseen grounds below, yellow sparks and motes of ash that stung his eyes. With them ascended the screams of the damned, screams that met his own in an unceasing chorus.

“Go down into my darkness...” a voice whispered to him, “Succumb to the flames and become nothing, or endure the bitter cold for all eternity as my servant. The choice is yours, for my eye is upon you. There is no escaping me.”

At last he struck something flat, blasting the air from his shivering body. Panting, the wizard rose to fours, his nails gouged out in trying to find a surface to halt his descent. His crimson robes, tarnished and dulled to a muted brown, were tattered and frayed.

Expelling a gout of blood, Larlax tried in vain to tame his body’s involuntary actions, curling into a ball and clamping his eyes shut. When he eventually opened them, he sorely wished he had not. He was upon a small platform at the bottom of the endless stairway, looking up to the eye of a storm.

Like a great, winding wheel, dark clouds swirled around a disk of pristine blackness. It seemed to gaze down to him, uncaring, obliterating emotion and thought until only animal urge existed. Oily black tentacles reached down from the eye; empty, hungering darkness. Reaching toward him.

Hopeless, Larlax looked down, to see an equally unwelcoming sight. Mad assemblies of clockwork rose from a blasted, fiery landscape, into which bodies of his kin and beings far stranger, rotten, mouths twisted in anguish, were fed.

As he watched, horrified, a large but slender humanoid, her eyes wide and curious, fell into the machinery and was immolated, her ashes rising from the charnel pit.

Which doom would he choose; the loss of soul in the darkness above, or loss of self in the fires below? He chose quickly, and stared up to the sky with defiance.

“The fires take me, fiend! I am a Wizard of Carthspire and no more a slave than the stars themselves.”

As he tumbled down into the burning heat and squealing mechanisms, a wave of blue light enveloped him and he found himself instead in a great, peaceful emptiness. He knew he’d made the right choice.

The teleportation spell left her in a wide courtyard ringed with merchant stalls and a bustling crowd far removed from those in Teikoku.

Kaileena pulled her cloak tightly around herself, uneasy around so many people. This was quickly remedied, however. There was a second glance here and there when someone noticed her eyes, but otherwise she seemed to impress upon the denizens of Moonshadow as entirely unremarkable. It was relaxing not to have people staring at her...as they had almost her entire life.

Chastened, she began to absorb her surroundings; the citizens were primarily Kamiyonanayo, the males towering over her and casting her and everything else in countless shadows, their massive wings spread wide or folded neatly at their mood suited. The females were proud and haughty, wearing glinting armor of silver, gold, glassteel, platinum, or titanium, or robes of silk so scandalous they made her old brothel attire look formal.

Beside them were the occasional Ogres; massive, bipedal humanoids with warty grey skin, elongated arms with thick, clawed hands, and bald or mane-topped heads with hard, dull faces. Like Narthutet’s apprentice they had tusks like Orcs; in fact, they looked a bit like malformed, massive versions of that species. Curious.

There were El’Dari as well; tan-skinned, fair humanoids with pointed ears, proud, angular faces, flowing manes the colors of autumn, and bright yellow, brown, or orange eyes. A few she greeted warmly, inquiring about those flying carpets she remembered them using periodically in Aurora, for she still very badly wanted one for herself.

After mentally jotting down the locations they gave her for suitable merchants, she continued on her way. Down broad, lavish pathways with fine stalls made of finely lacquered wood and bright linen and cloth, she saw even more diverse peoples; green-skinned Orcs, which seemed no better or worse than any of the others around her. A trio walked in unison opposite her, each wearing bright red robes with an amulet of gold depicting an unfolded scroll.

And second in number only to the Kamiyonanayo were her kin. She found a great mass of them in an open pavilion the size of Minamoto’s villa, where some manner of revelry was occurring. Golden-brown fluid flowed from a four-tiered fountain in the center, to which the partygoers collected in silver pitchers and drank heartily. Stringed instruments thrummed a wild cacophony of sounds, accompanied by flutes and drums and dancing bodies.

These Silkrit here were so different than the grim, hardened variety she was used to; they laughed, sang, and danced with abandon throughout the pavilion, veritably pouring out into the streets, reveling freely with an equal number of Elves. In truth, she could barely tell the difference between one and another, so great was the camaraderie displayed.

A male, visibly inebriated, motioned to her, swaying, rocking his drink back and forth as it splashed onto his clothing and the ground. She politely declined the clumsy invitation, and continued on her way with a distant smile.

“They celebrate the harvest.”

Kaileena would have jumped were she not so benumbed by all the bustling activity around her. Looking back to the speaker, an Elf with starlight hair and blue eyes, she smiled pleasantly.

“Three more nights of this and they will all be back in the outlying settlements, tilling crops and nursing hangovers.”

Taking a closer look at the Elf, Kaileena noted her fine suit of scalloped plate armor, composed of solid glassteel, though there was a shirt of silvery mail underneath. A massive sword was sheathed over her shoulder; a single-edged cleaver that looked so heavy she wondered how the woman was able to even stand with it, let alone wield it in battle.

“You are a soldier?” Kaileena asked, and the Elf nodded, “Niria, daughter of Na’ari and Knight-Commander of The Moon’s Eye, at your service.”

“Kaileena Kazeatari.” she replied as they walked together, not minding the company, “Master Enchantress, and a few other things besides.”

“You are not from here...” Niria observed, “I can tell in your bearing and your unusual scent. And your eyes are very interesting.”

Sighing, Kaileena replied simply, “No, and yes. It is a long, long story.”

“And certainly an interesting one.” Niria acquiesced, “But for another time perhaps. Enjoy your stay in Moonshadow, and don’t get into trouble. Crime is unheard of here...but other realms are known to be less...lofty, and outsiders are always watched for possibility for mischief.”

Nodding as the woman turned down a different street, Kaileena felt that she hadn’t heard the last of that one, though whether she would be an ally, acquaintance, or enemy, she knew not.

She passed the coliseum; a massive, circular building with high walls and a canopy roof. She had no idea what a coliseum was, but imagined it to be a lively place judging by the uproar that emerged from it in regular intervals.

As she rounded the sheer walls of the structure, almost five bowshots in circumference, she saw a row of houses in the outer curve of the road. Each of them were fenced in with iron, but one of them had the most peculiar display of botany she had thus witnessed.

That there were several bramble bushes Kaileena had no doubt, but they grew in and around each other, clipped into a basic, geometric representation of a Dragon, curling around itself in a tight coil. There was one at each side of a lawn of faded yellow grass, twice Arteth’s size, each immaculately cut.

The house itself was impressive, though compared to the tower manors of the Kamiyonanayo it seemed small indeed. She would have been more than satisfied with this than a palace like Arteth’s, which had felt more a brilliant display of wealth than an inviting home. She was unsure if she wanted to bear and raise children in such a place...

Bottling her anxiety, Kaileena approached the door, upon which was inlaid fine brass filigree, and a knocker in the shape of a Dragon head clutching a thick ring.

Shivering, she slammed the ring three times, then again sought to quell her emotions. She knew next to nothing of Uchiki, only what Lenao’s journals had mentioned of her. She likewise had no idea what to expect from her kin.

For a moment there was silence, then she heard loud footsteps from the other side of the door.

“Easy...” Kaileena whispered to herself, “...easy...you can do this.”

The door creaked open...

Ken’ichi opened the door to find a face which seemed very familiar. He puzzled over this for a moment, before giving up and asking, “Yes? How can I help you? I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“We have not.” the young woman replied, and her unease gave him pause.

The girl, a bit frail, was of his kin, with light blue skin and a peculiar peach-tan hue at her chin and throat. She had a good deal of jewelry, mostly around her horn nubs, and sported a vibrant pink mane. Her eyes, highly unusual, seemed to flow inward, more energy than flesh. Under her fine cloak was a slim gown of silk and a pair of tailored high boots. The multiple pouches on her belt suggested she was a Magi.

He was sure he would know someone this distinctive. She seemed tense, and appeared to struggle internally with something before asking, “Does the name Uchiki mean anything to you?”

That was it...

“Yes.” he replied, breathless, “My sister, who long ago ventured from Moonshadow. I knew something looked familiar about you; the eyes threw me off, but you definitely have her face. Are you...?”

“Her daughter? Yes. My name is Kaileena.” she replied, and Ken’ichi was beside himself. Sputtering like a damned fool and not caring in the slightest, he practically charged the terrified girl and wrapped her in an embrace.

“Haha! That’s great!” he bellowed, in disbelief, “I am Ken’ichi; your uncle. Welcome. Welcome! Come on in.”

Kaileena followed him, still shaky, and he closed the door behind them, “Uchiki...with a lovely daughter; oh, how time flies. Tell me, how is she?”

The girl’s expression soured, and he frowned, confused.

“She’s dead.” Kaileena replied flatly, stopping him in his tracks.

“Dead? Gods...I...I’m sorry. How...?”

“It happened when I was very young.” she explained, “I never really knew her.”

Ken’ichi nodded sadly, “Let us sit first before speaking of such things. The next room is the study, come.”

His sister...dead? How could that be? It hadn’t been more than three decades since she’d traveled to the Veil...and their race was so long-lived. To die so young...to leave so much behind...

He opened the door to the study, and ushered the girl in. Taking a seat on a stool, he bid her take the nicer seat before the fireplace. Tossing on another log, Ken’ichi sighed, “Alright then. I’m sorry to ask this of you, but I would like to know what has happened since she departed these lands. Tell me everything.”

Kaileena took a few minutes to compose herself; she still looked about ready to faint to his eyes.

“My mother died when I was an infant.” she explained, “Out in the wilderness of Teikoku in Aurora; a world in the Prime Material Plane...-”

He drifted, as he had for untold centuries. What had he been doing?

A voice, so familiar, had spoken to him, though he couldn’t remember the words. How long ago was that? Had he imagined it? What else had he imagined? Where was he...? What was his name?

Alcharon. Yes, that was it. Alcharon...from... Where was he from? Was he going there before forgetting, or leaving?

It must not have been that important. More important things to do. The Chaos, ordered. Yes...ordered...

Order was the purest display of strength, his greatest aspiration. The verse was chaos. With order one could tame it. He had tried once...back when his kind (what were they called again?) had perfected the art of walking between the worlds. The price, terrible, but validated by the rewards.

He’d been about to do something, something very important. He would have to remember what that was...

“That was close.” the seer whispered to herself, kneeling over the basin of water, wherein she continued to observe Alcharon’s endless voyage. Or at least, hopefully endless, thanks to her efforts.

That one would find a way to distort Surthath’s prophecy. And for the sake of everyone and everything, that could not happen.

Exhausted, she dismissed her scrying and fell backwards, resting on the floor, cooling her body on the paved stone of the temple, her temple. It was taxing, stretching herself so thin...but everything was going to plan. Or so she hoped.

“The Second will visit me soon.” she stated hopefully, for the hundredth time that day alone, “As will the Third and Fourth. Soon. And when they do, I will finally reveal my designs.”

She was their guide, their mentor, who would ensure that the Fifth would be revealed at the right time; the destruction of Dur’Artoth. The Second, she knew, was in peril...but it couldn’t be helped.

“I just need to keep Alcharon out of this.” she stated, as if it were so easy, “By the time the five are gathered, he will not be able to make any difference. Nobody will, except...”

She shivered, suddenly cold after her taxing mental exertions. Yes, compared to the true enemy of the prophecy, Alcharon seemed a minor threat indeed. That one...well, she had a possible solution to that as well.

Rising unsteadily, her tired limbs sluggish, she set aside her water basin and walked through the lonely halls of her temple. It had been devoted to Anima once, before her self-sacrifice to the Heart of Darkness. Her symbol; a tree contained within a circle of will, had once plastered nearly every object in the chamber.

After the goddess’ demise, her followers, her Human followers, had abandoned the temple, their faith lost. But they had taken much of the iconography with them, as a reminder of the past, no doubt.

Seeing the potential usefulness of the magickally charged foundations of the site, the seet had stolen it, dragging it from Aurora and into a pocket dimension of her creation. Using Anima’s residual magicka, she had performed her experiments in private, developing her considerable skills at divination and chronomancy.

Throughout the hallway testaments to her failed attempts in reshaping reality had lingered. Roiling energy anomalies; disturbances in time and space, were contained by negating fields of telekinetic force, just enough so that they could not affect the environment any more than they already had. One such anomaly, which she stood before thoughtfully, was unique among them.

In her shame, the seer nonetheless felt a pang of weary pride in her unwitting accomplishment; this anomaly was a door, a gateway through time itself. As to what time period or what location the gateway led she knew not, though she did note that merely brushing an object against its surface could have most peculiar effects. A fine bronze plate had weathered black, as if it’d spent a century in saltwater. A pile of loose sediment had become an igneous stone. As if the mere contact with the anomaly could advance an object through decades or even centuries of time.

Well...that was when the process was...successful. If she could just re-create the unique combination of processes that had created the anomaly, she could reverse it; creating a gate to the past. There were plenty of things that one as powerful as her could do to further shape Surthath’s prophecy with such a device.

But alas...she had not the time. Irony.

Sighing, she turned away, walking down an otherwise empty corridor. At its end she beheld the object of worship for those before her; a fine marble statue of a six-armed elven maiden. The face, once beautiful beyond measure, was blank and indistinct, as if the statue were unfinished. The followers here had believed it was because the goddess was gone.

She knew better...

Anima was merely lost, waiting to be found, even to herself. That would be remedied soon; she was needed.

“Soon, soon.” the seer whispered, laying down on the bedroll she had set in the statue’s presence, “There are three to crown before you, however. Be patient.”

General Nobuyuki approached the private villa of the rightful ruler of Teikoku, deep in the eastern fringes of the great mountains of the North District.

A small but elaborate pagoda marked the peak of the lesser slopes, featuring a geographically unsound pointed tip and stark, rigid iron reinforcements, bright red and orange and yellow against the white and grey of the mountain. Great fires ringed it, leaving streams of ice flowing away from the site, making the stone steps perilous. The air was frigid, leaving his hair frozen against his face and his skin gooseflesh. His helmet felt like a weighted bucket atop his head, and his armor was nearly adhered to his skin.

But its walls did not waver as did his body...no...it was as sturdy as its inhabitant, who would reclaim Teikoku’s pride and dignity, wash away the foreign filth, and restore its people to their pure state of being. This was their land, and with his help Nobuyuki would reclaim it.

With only three honor guard and an enchanter enslaved in secret (who had been so kind as to provide the instantaneous teleportation from his villa), General Nobuyuki approached the pagoda, and scrutinized its door. Not a sliding panel as most were, it was thick and heavy oak, with brass inlays and a stylized knocker in the shape of a golden skull. Pounding the knocker against the door, it opened almost immediately, almost knocking him down the steps.

Standing on the other side was Yamato Takeru; first son, prince, and rightful Hitorigami of Teikoku. His face was hard and angular, with a serious, pinched expression, a moustache composed of long, thin strands, and a wild mane of black hair reaching to the back of his waist.

Compounding his fearsome appearance was a layered black robe and a haori colored dark red with enchanted yellow motes drifting up from the material, with appeared to burn like real embers before being snuffed out by the cold.

Ame-no-Murakumo-no-Tsurugi, his legendary katana, was sheathed at his belt. A relic from ancient times, when the God-King Susanoo, brother of Amaterasu, had forged it in the fires that had tempered the world in the beginning of time. A weapon later used to strike down the eight-headed serpent Yamata no Orochi, greatest of the Hydra and herald of the evil god Tu’Narcuteth, and first and greatest enemy of the land.

The sword was marvelous; featuring a sleek, black scabbard with a red thitodome, a ruby set on either side of the ray skin underneath the cloth-wrapped handle, a pointed diamond-shaped guard, and striking golden ornamentation throughout.

In spite of its flame-themed coloration, Nobuyuki knew the truth of the weapon’s enchantments; it gave Yamato supreme control of the element of wind. With it he had reversed an ambush grass fire. With it he had sheared the flesh from an entire army’s bones!

And the steel itself! No modern smith could dream to replicate its nearly uncountable layers, revealed to be precisely 15,485,863 by powerful enchantment. Its material, steel but not entirely so, was so dense that the trappings needed to be fortified by enchantment to bear its weight in swing, and only the strongest warriors could wield it. It could cut through lesser blades without resistance.

No other man had wielded that sword, save perhaps Susanoo himself, without being destroyed by it, in one manner or another...

“General Nobuyuki.” Yamato replied in a dry, scratchy voice, as if he’d been smoking, “I was not expecting you.”

And yet somehow he had answered the door so quickly...?

“I come to request your aid in my gods-appointed task of restoring our nation.” he replied, never one to dally, “Your people, this nation, needs you on the throne of Teikoku, my prince. We are lost without you.”

Yamato’s expression was unfazed. Not a single recognizable Human emotion emanated from his brown eyes, their pupils narrow dots.

“Ah, I see.” Yamato replied, scratching his chin, “Itaku naming my whelp of a half-brother set a few people down this path, you included; rebellion.”

Just as the general’s blood ran cold with fear that his life was to end, Yamato laughed, a terrible sound that suggested anger more than mirth, “Things have been too unclear since the damned vampyres attacked. I killed quite a few of them when they wandered too far up my mountain. I prefer to endure this frozen land in peace, for it cools the flames in my heart that demand I ravage and destroy without end.”

Nodding, for it was a poor idea to disagree with Yamato Takeru, General Nobuyuki waited until he continued to say, “...A civil war will remind this land the price of weakness, with consulting with outsiders. And I have wanted to kill Suizei for a long time... Come inside, General. Tell me of your plans.”

Commodore Atsushi waited for his general’s orders while he bided his time in Fusestu.

It was poor timing for him to marry, but he agreed with Nobuyuki; these outsiders taking seats of power in Teikoku was just wrong. This new Hitorigami was trouble, though Atsushi wasn’t bothered by the same troublesome bonds of tradition as his friend and ally. He saw no benefit to a family that was above reproach, even if they were sired by the gods!

He likewise saw no problem with outright defying them and deciding their own rulers. That line had gone stale generations ago during the Reclamation, wherein the evil enchanters of the Renmei Kisai had allied with the Dread Hammer and enslaved the people. As far as he was concerned outsiders and weakling magicka users could all rot in shallow graves.

“Sir.” the messenger said as he finally arrived, “From General Nobuyuki.”

Ripping the parchment from the youth’s hands, Atsushi opened and read the document...with interest, shooing the fool away.

“Yamato Takeru? A real firebrand, that one. But I see the wisdom.”

An acclaimed warrior and duelist, Yamato was one of the most singularly aggressive and conservative members of the royal family, but unlike some of his peers he was also very popular among the people (some of them, at least). He was devastating with his fabled sword, Ame-no-Murakumo-no-Tsurugi, and was also a master of stealth, sabotage, and disguises.

All in all, he was the warlord Teikoku needed over a misguided philanthropist. The people would see that and support what General Nobuyuki intended to bring about; the first forced dethronement in the nation’s history.

“With Yamato selected I feel much better about the state of affairs. I am so pleased...perhaps I will go see the pretty young thing that my supporters have declared my wife. It might be enjoyable.”

Nu cringed as her friend screamed himself awake, though she was not surprised. No, no.

Tethered to his consciousness, she had pulled him out of a magicka-induced nightmare; a favorite of Dur’Artoth’s weapons. Sometimes people broke from what the Dread Hammer showed them... Nasty, nasty things... Yes. Yes, yes.

“What!? Whe...Nu! Take us back!” he gasped, hysterical, but sobered when he saw her, his mouth open like a fishy. Fishy, fishy.

Looking down at herself, her vision blurry, she couldn’t blame him; her body was a mess. Her arms and legs had been splintered by the force of the Dread Hammer’s attack. Her stomach had ripped open, loops of intestine slowly working their way back up into her body. She smelled yesterday’s meal in them. Her chitin crown was a scattering of fragments.

Touching her forehead with a grimace as her elbow pushed itself back into place, Nu pulled back a hand covered in grey fluid mixed with blood. Bad, bad.

“Gods...” Larlax cursed, pale and drawn, “Will you be alright?”

She would. Already several minutes of regeneration had passed, and she felt much better.

“Mm-hmm.” she managed, unable to say anything else. Her jaw was broken too. Waiting until her body finished healing itself, Nu suffered through the pain, trying not to cry. What would Larlax think of her then?

But then Larlax did cry, his wrinkled face pinching to contain it, “Sector Eighteen...destroyed. So many dead. Why? Why has this happened? How- ...How has this happened?!”

“Mmmph. No know...” Nu replied, shifting her mouth this way and that to restore use to it. Her vision cleared up nicely, and she could finally sit up straight. She’d been in such a hurry...she hadn’t noticed taking them to her favorite place; the mushroom grove next to the stream.

“This is bad.” Nu said to herself, “Bad. Bad. Bad. Not good. Father needs to know. But I don’t know where he is. Do you? No. No, no. But I know where he is looking; Aurora.”

Larlax nodded grimly, “The Human world, where the rest of the matriarchs died.”

Nu nodded, even though it hurt, “We need their help with this one, especially the bad Human. If they can make whole cities go away, we need help badly.”

“Why?” the old wizard asked, “Can your kin not aid us as they had in ancient times?”

She shook her head, “No. No, no. If many more brothers and sisters come, the R’yzthaek can too. Bad enough already. But they will be coming here soon anyway, my brothers and sisters. I told them so.”

“Very well” Larlax conceded, “I will relay the message to elevate the remaining cities to high alert. We will evacuate if we can, Surthath willing. While that happens, we will go to this Aurora and seek out powerful allies. The Dread Hammer will pay dearly for this!”

Koukatsuna soon found his fears confirmed as he took out his frustration on a wooden dummy, while Rinshi watched uneasily from a distance.

It was still manageable fighting with a sword in each hand, but his halved vision threw him off when he engaged in precision strikes. Not seeing the target distorted his aim; what would have severed an artery only nicked it, what would have run through the gut only scraped the sides. Only when he led with his left hand did he even have a shred of his former grace. But having a weapon in the right only to block was pointless. He was better off with a shield or nothing at all.

Sighing with disgust, Koukatsuna tossed one of the swords aside, and assumed a more refined duelist stance, blade facing down and at an angle, left arm locked behind his back.

Focusing more on lunges and narrow blocks which would redirect an opponent’s weapon, he rushed and retreated, strafed and ducked and leaped, brutalizing the dummy with impaling lunges and strokes. No longer focused on gouging slashes, Waru and Saku would not be ideal in his hands anymore. With this fighting style, he needed a new weapon; double-edged, true, but longer, more narrow, lighter and more finely honed. He’d seen one or two pirates using such a weapon. He needed a rapier or estoc.

His swords screamed at him in protest, but there was nothing to it. In fact, he felt better not having to deal with their incessant demands.

“I can no longer live only for battle...” he said sadly, “My body cannot handle it anymore. I need a weapon suitable for this.”

Saying it aloud, feeling the horrible, crushing despair of it, freed the bladedancer as much as it tormented him. He’d lived his entire life in violence; it was an integral part of himself. What would he, could he, become, without that?

Then again... The whole point of the Te Fukushu was to offer the Silkrit a chance at new life. What kind of fool would he be if he refused to seize the opportunity?

“Someone else can wield Waru and Saku.” Koukatsuna decided, “I am free of them!”

“They would find a more worthy wielder, I’m sure.” someone said behind him.

Annoyed, Koukatsuna turned to find none other than Commodore Atsushi, appraising him with a veiled expression that he immediately recognized as haughty disdain.

He was the pinnacle of Human gaudiness; dressed in a blue layered robe with golden trim, a fine leather belt with all sorts of charms, pendants, and even a flintlock pistol with an ivory handle and gold-plated parts. In place of a conventional katana he carried a saber with an elaborate basket hilt and a curved, single-edged blade. A feather was braided into a lock of his long white hair, no doubt made that way with expensive dyes.

“I have heard...” the Human pressed, “...That Koukatsuna never loses a fight. Interesting then, this broken thing I see here before me, to name himself as such.”

“Careful now, mammal...” Koukatsuna chided, glaring at his friend’s future husband, “You’re getting married soon, right? I sure would hate to give you a scar or two to ruin the occasion.”

Drawn by his threat, soldiers immediately began to gather.

“Rinshi...” Atsushi said, “Your beauty woefully exceeds the descriptions given to me by my officers. Truly, I am in awe, but need I remind you that you are the daughter of the most honorable Lord Minamoto? Associating with commoners, nay, foreigners, is beneath you; a most disgraceful act.”

The girl cringed at his words, withdrawing. Koukatsuna hissed, “Commoner, huh? Commoner I may be, but I never mince words when good steel is at hand.”

“Don’t do this, Koukatsuna...” Rinshi pleaded over the enraged shouts and curses of the soldiers. He ignored her. Weakened or not, he would be damned before letting that idiot insult Minamoto’s daughter!

He would teach him some manners before the whelp took Rinshi away. And he knew just the thing to solve both their problems...

“A wager, then.” Atsushi replied with an enthusiasm that didn’t meet his hard eyes, “To justify the momentary effort it will take. If, should the gods intervene and you emerge the victor, you may take my blood. As much of it as you like.”

Shocked gasps joined the angered words of the soldiers; such a wager would let one swordsman kill the other if he so wished. And Koukatsuna nearly found himself wanting to. Had he not known Rinshi and the shame it would bring her if he killed her husband, he would’ve leapt at the chance.

“And if I lose?” Koukatsuna asked, to which Atsushi smiled, “Oh, nothing major. Just those swords, maybe. I know someone who would appreciate the gift.”

Readying Waru and Saku, Koukatsuna began to pace, impatient and already bone-tired. Atsushi, for his part, drew his saber, and they circled each other, the crowd expectant. Atsushi took the first move, lunging with his weapon swinging over the shoulder diagonally and down.

Koukatsuna wasn’t baited and simply backpedaled, anticipating and parrying when the Human feinted, doubled back, and struck low at his right flank, right in the blind spot. Cursing, for he had to guess the exact angle, Koukatsuna retreated again, shaking the fool off with an improvised swing towards the feet. Something was very wrong.

“Waru...Saku...” Koukatsuna snarled, “What happened to my speed?”

Try as he might, Koukatsuna could go no faster or hit no harder that he could before slaying Uejini with Vala beside him.

“I see...”

They circled again, Koukatsuna careful not to let the Human near his blind spot again. Lunging forward, he smiled as Atsushi did the same. The trap laid, Koukatsuna spun into a brilliant flourish with his left hand leading, pounding recklessly against Atsushi’s defense. When the expected riposte came from a well placed parry, Koukatsuna ducked low and head-butted the Human in the gut.

Only to hit empty air.

Panicked, Koukatsuna twisted his body and just managed to block the Human’s counterattack to his rear flank, again on the right side.

“You like to play dirty too, huh?” Koukatsuna noted, “Bad move, chum. Now I get to do so without guilt.”

He used his favorite tactic; lunging, feinting, and hawking a glob of spit. It stuck the basket hilt as Atsushi covered his face, and as Koukatsuna circled around him and attacked the exposed off-hand flank, he slipped under the swing and tackled the Human.

Nope. Empty air again. Bastard used the advantage of his halved vision to slip momentarily into his blind spot.

Rolling, gasping from the pain it brought him, Koukatsuna rose to a crouch. And took Atsushi’s swing right to the shoulder. He’d been cut before, so he knew what it felt like. A burst of cold across the wound, then an odd numbness, then a burning pain. He knew it, expected it, and was thus not hindered by it, though he dropped his other sword involuntarily as that arm twitched, and was on his feet and ready to land a kick right in the side of Atsushi’s kneecap, knocking him off balance.

Howling with wild abandon, Koukatsuna lunged forward. And took a sword in his gut.

Gasping, the bladedancer looked down to find none other than Saku in Atsushi’s other hand, its blade five finger breadths through his belly. When had he picked it up?

“First blood on the torso.” Commodore Atsushi observed, “I win.”

And then he did the cruelest thing imaginable...he pulled the sword free, barbs and all. Koukatsuna screamed, or thought he did at least. Suddenly he was on the ground, a red haze filling his eyes and a deafening ringing drowning out his hearing.

Was that what the bites of Waru and Saku felt like? Was that what betrayal felt like?

“A fine pair of swords.” Atsushi said over him, as the field medic ran over and flipped him over. He tried to scream again, but all that came out was a wet gurgle. Damn, that hurt!

“They will serve me well. A fine duel, albeit vulgar, but to understand one’s nobility one must appreciate the simple and brutish ways of the peasants who live to serve them.” he gloated, “Rinshi...yes, Rinshi, I’ve changed my mind. To learn this as I have I give you full leave to interact with this...thing. Just never remember what you are, and what it is.”

Koukatsuna tried to get up, tried to say something, but-