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Chapter 10: Masks and Myths

14th Day of Tearful Sky, 1554

“Sun, some, moon so many. Cloud, none or hardly any. Hither thither, father feather, mother's beak in any weather!”

People looked. They do that a lot. Looking. Not seeing. Not examining. Just looking. Disbelief? Oddity? Possible. People just need to look all the time.

Lots of things go on. All things happen all the time. But Sota always told her that being silent and observing spooked people, so singing helped let them know she was there, watching. Or something. It didn't really make much sense to her. It was being polite, as much as a yatagha can be. Probing acts were how they read people; audacity the act of opening the book that others presented.

Right now, Chihiro was watching the village chief settle an argument between two of his constituents over a harvesting kama which one insisted belonged to his father, whilst the other just thought it was any other tool. Which it was. The blade had been changed four weeks, two days and three hours ago. The varnish on the grip had been sanded down and replaced six weeks, five days, six hours ago, and when the wood was bare it was clearly a newer piece of wood than the blade had been at that point, but Chihiro hadn't seen that. It wasn't the same kama.

Hana kept saying Chihiro shouldn't keep taking note of such things, that it was rude, or improper, or that people might discover Chihiro had memorised something someone wanted forgotten. Mostly that tiny details didn't really help in the bigger picture. Except when they did, like how any of her people would remember where their owners left their ink blocks, or the brushes, or their sixty kinroku and sixty yon jewellery, or the tooth that had been knocked out of their mouth when they fell down the stairs after slipping on a wet patch made when they were drunk and spilled some rice wine.

It wasn't like Chihiro wanted to memorise these details. Yatagha just... did. Everything fell inside her head and fell forever until she saw something or heard something that reminded her of it. Then it floated in front of her brain, between her ears (despite Sota's insistence there was 'crazy' inside there) or inside her suspiciously beady eyes like a hanging scroll on the outskirts of her vision.

The village chief pointed a crooked index finger at one man. The bone was broken but not properly re-set, but he learned a firm physical point was crucial to getting a metaphorical point across, so he hurt himself when he gestured in such a way. He said the beak of phoenixes thrust their beaks ever onward, never bending, steadfast in their belief, as their claws slammed atop the table in their objections to whatever they opposed. Or dragons did that? Both were true, but Chihiro guessed it depended on the region. The story ultimately came down to having utmost belief in yourself, and how your convictions won more battles than navel gazing.

Except Chihiro didn't have a navel, after all she was hatched from an egg. She remembered consuming the albumen. The egg cracking, the faint presence of light on her then-blind eyes and the hurried, angry voices. She remembered the sharp pain and both heard as well as felt the snap twice on her back as they pinned her, beak-down on bloodied cloth. Chihiro remembered the vibration of a saw with the tearing and slicing, and the rinse of ice cold water running cloudy red.

Chihiro remembered all of this, at least until she passed out from the violent change from the egg-bound nirvana to every sense being assaulted until it made her pass out. She only learned later they took her wings. They take all yatagha wings. The Ministry said to prevent another rebellion, or the end of the world. Again, both were true. Honesty likes being in pairs. They keep each other upright.

She remembered the abuse. The 'training'. Do this, don't do that. Do this, DON'T DO THAT. Failure was repeating until things went right and being struck with the instructor's staff. Success was tolerance and repeated victories unveiled more ways to fail.

Chihiro blinked as the chief then pointed at the other man. They spoke of accepting that all tools had to be shared, but the sickle would be returned in the same or better condition to the owner. The two villagers parted ways, then the chief looked at Chihiro.

“Can I help you?”

Chihiro threw her arms skyward. “Hare-na's better! She's on the up-and-up, standing up-and-up and eating up-and-up.”

The chief puckered his lips and the wrinkles around his face shifted into his thinking expression. “That's good to hear. I wish we had the spare food to celebrate her recovery. I was beginning to wonder if her illness was of spirit rather than body.”

Chihiro blinked and tilted her head, first one way then the other. Then back again. “Silly-so-silly, spirits shan't sicken so simply! No tongue to black, eyes to red nor skin to turn pimply!”

With a gruff snort and a roll of his eyes, the chief clarified, “one takes on the sin of those they slay. Soldiers returning from war are seldom the same as they were. Innocence and kind hearts are charred in the heat of battle. At best they develop a shell that wards off this evil from spilling onto those they love, just as others continue to slay in order to keep away from home. However, make no mistake! Eventually, it will always poison those around them, and especially the ones they love. I'm glad she's recovered, but I still want you, Sota and Hana to leave as soon as you're able.”

Chihiro knew the tales The Ministry spread through hearsay to keep Samsara obedient, many of which the Chief spoke as truthful untruths. They arrive in crowds to falsify uprightness; unaware that one big push would topple them all. Yet while the falsehoods were tremendous, the truth was even worse. Ignorance was a lifesaving bliss, two truths threatening each other into silence. Knowledge had painted a target on Sota's back for the rest of his days. This paled to what Chihiro felt at that moment as she grew still, and her eyes snapped onto the chief's own.

The truth would slay and save those Chihiro cared for. Both were true.

She bristled her neck feathers. “Have you heard of the married couple and the poison seed?”

The chief's eyebrows furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

Chihiro's fixed stare and deathly still form stood out amidst the flow of grass from the gentle breeze. Even her beak barely opened as she spoke clear, slow and an octave lower.

“A powerful man, unashamedly cheating on his wife, grew annoyed at her complaints. He could not strike her since her father was the only person the husband feared. The infidelity was fine; the father was old fashioned and believed powerful men could sleep around so long as they didn't hurt or leave their wife.”

The chief's brows creased even closer. “What are you talking-”

“Apapap!” Chihiro chirped, raised a taloned, scaled finger and blinked just once before continuing. “The husband grew so frustrated that he sought help from a wise old mystic, of whom provided a seed and said to make the wife swallow the seed. She would be placated by her husband's words as the seed took root within, and the false kindness within him would be as water, fulfilling the wife's every need. He was convinced and slipped the seed into her food.”

The chief seemed as if hypnotised by the story, growing as still as Chihiro's unsettling lifelessness, but now deathly quiet. Only the rustle of grass and distant howl of wind through the trees dared to interfere.

“And so, the husband spoke sweet, sweet nothings into his wife's ear, even as he continued to claim more mistresses. But his words were as poisonous as his heart. The resentment of his spirit, so foul and intent impure, meant the seed drank deep of this darkness. So, the wife began to change. The small pleasures she experienced drove her on into an obsession. This only made her more and more eager, and the man was back to where he started: he was tired of his wife's needs.”

Chihiro paced around with her awkward, avian gait, at first looking away, then craning her beak skyward with her arms raised.

“But the wife's hunger would not be sated as the seed became a sprout within her belly and grew even more needy to love. She sought out others to feed the hungry plant and drank the bliss of the happy couples around her, almost like a dark echo of the cheating man, and siphoning whatever she could. But it would never be enough to fill the hunger within her and when their love was no longer enough, the dark bloom took over her whole body. Possessing the wife once and for all, she became just a mindless, obsessed monster.”

Chihiro bent over backwards, suddenly snapping her eyes on the chief, and fell on all fours but upside down. She skittered in a freakish crawl at the elder, who gasped and backed away in fear before Chihiro flipped onto her hands, turned, then dropped onto her feet and stood to attention.

“The wife took root within a city and spread her own seeds, adrift on the wind and far more insidious in its consumption. Every man and woman had been taken over by her hunger, and began feeling a deep, unnatural infatuation for the plant and desired its favour, even fighting with each other to earn it. Many lives were lost, and only when its hunger was sated would the people recover their minds. Not wanting to suffer this loss of control again, yet also desiring to feel the euphoria they felt, they began seeking people to sacrifice. To sate the hunger of the monster within the city, lest it ever decide to spread and consume everything.”

The chief gulped. “All this over a man's infidelity?”

Chihiro clapped her scaly hands and spoke in her usual chatter once more. “Yes-yes! The meaty-moral being that speaking ill makes ill of those speaky-spoken to!”

“Meaning...?”

“Meaning,” Chihiro said and spun a full turn and a half and began to march away but glanced over her shoulder. “Maybe stop talking bad about Hare-na? In case sickly-sickly words transform into sickly-sickly action. I'm bored now. Bye-bye!”

“What... sure, right you are, Chihiro...” The Chief scratched his head as Chihiro hopped away. He then scratched his head. “Wonder what happened to that woman-plant thing?”

Chihiro carried on, returning to Sota's hut and checking inside. It was empty. Two items were out of place; a small wooden tea-caddy and two teacups. Chihiro clacked her beak as she recognised the caddy. It was one he had kept as a souvenir from Hantoka, and where Chihiro fled her old master and joined her new family.

For all his focus and power over memories, Sota liked collecting simple things from important moments. This one was tied to Chihiro. Sota said she reminded him of the Ardentiphan drink. Dark as night but bright as sunshine.

Chihiro remembered that time as well as any other but without Sota to read, she needed to put herself into his mind, so she opened the caddy and took a deep sniff of the faint, exotic scent.

* * *

5th Day of White Soil, 1552

The aroma caught Sota first. A peculiar, deep and unique scent which he couldn't quite place, but it seeped from one of the few traditionally Samsaran buildings along the docks. He entered to a deathly silence, scores of slitted eyes, extended claws gripping tables and a deep sense of dread.

The frosty reception wasn't too surprising due to the presence of The Ministry, especially as strangers. There were no other Tongueless roaming by the docks, if there were any others at all, but the armoured Hantoka guard were now working for Hanzo. Small groups of soldiers roamed the streets but most of them lingered on the outskirts of the district and formed blockades. Without a chance to organise or the presence of a strong leader, the cera'an were currently in hiding. This tension filled the room and made Sota freeze in place.

Hana stepped forward and stared them down, followed by Gearal. As soon as the young catfolk lad appeared, the gathering calmed and returned to their business and a low din of cera'an discussion took hold.

Sota realised that teahouse didn't really fit as a title any longer. The exterior resembled a teahouse, but the interior had four legged chairs instead of zabuton on which to kneel, with taller tables and a mix of aesthetic touches like Ardentiphan rugs, cutting edge Vliechoven modern lighting and a heavy Bralranian style wooden bar and square, coloured glass windows.

The distinct, pungent aroma about the place which was both exotic and intriguing, wholly unfamiliar to either of Sota or Hana's senses. Many of the catfolk were drinking a black beverage, that neither Samsaran native had seen before, and figured it was this much-famed coffee Varisidra had suggested, though some consumed more common looking teas or water.

“Follow,” Gearal said with a nod of his head and a wave of his hand as he threaded between the tables towards the backroom. A typical looking Samsaran human at the service counter, who was cleaning wooden cups, gave Gearal a small nod and rapped his knuckles on the wall behind him then resumed his labour.

The three passed through and were met by Quartz, Rose and Cedric.

Gearal frowned. “Where's Twikoren?”

“Still on the ship, treating Janarra,” Quartz replied. “She fractured an ankle unloading the ship.” He pointed to the side to a leather satchel. “He gave me your usual tonics, but I doubt mother will put him at risk leaving The Maiden, considering the circumstances.”

Gearal pattered over to it and picked through the pack with muffled clacks and clatters of glass.

“Some welcome, huh?” Rose said with an unenthused smirk as Sota and Hana took in their surroundings. “Taffirs think they can push us around? They're gonna learn their mistake the hard way.”

Quartz folded his arms and sighed. “It would be one thing if it were merely a Ministry presence, but it's quite another that Lord Sugawara may be siding with them as well.” He scowled at Cedric. “You could have given us some warning.”

Cedric slurped on his coffee as he trembled and glanced anywhere but Quartz' icy stare. “I swear they didn't seem to be so belligerent the last few days! I figured they were in the preliminary talks and that your mother would be back in time to rectify things.”

“More likely you were bein' lazy, as always,” Rose grumbled. “This is why I hate cities. So many folks around breeds this sort of 'someone else'll do it' attitude.”

Sota rolled his eyes. “Can we focus on the problem here rather than whine about it? We're supposed to be here whilst we wait for Varisidra's investigation into Lord Kou, but I get the impression that's not going to be possible if The Ministry take hold of Hantoka. Gearal said you had some sort of plan?”

The elder siblings and Cedric all looked at Gearal, who gulped and scurried off to pour some drinks, then everyone returned their gazes back at Sota.

The raothaar spoke first. “To be honest the plan did rely somewhat on Varisidra's presence to bolster the other catfolk.”

Quartz nodded. “And it seems The Ministry anticipated this move, hence their swiftness in targeting our people and isolating mother from the rest for now. While my clan holds some sway over the citizenry of Hantoka, ultimately that was a byproduct of her relationship with Sugawara. Eliminating him isn't ideal either, though a frontal attack would no doubt be short lived with this Tongueless Hanzo fellow present. We can't compete with strong magic without some sort of advantage.”

Hana shrugged. “Then we eliminate Hanzo. A Tongueless is only as strong as his sorcery, no?”

Sota winced and opened his mouth to speak but bit his own tongue. He wanted to talk to Hanzo yet couldn't afford to be spotted by anyone in The Ministry that would recognise him. He knew Hanzo was a threat well worthy of removing, yet nobody in his former life as a trainee Tongueless under knew him as well as he, and that familiarity bred a mote of a bond, like a hated sibling.

“I ain't scared of no Tongueless,” Rose said with a snort, “but I dunno if we can even get close to the bastard if The Ministry're all watchin' for our people. One word from'im and it's over.”

“So, what do we do?” Cedric asked. “The Midwinter Festival is just a couple of days away.”

“Why can't we just talk with Sugawara?” Gearal asked.

All eyes turned to the lad at his query as he returned with two steaming cups of coffee and offered them to Sota and Hana. He then hopped onto a chair.

“Why's it always gotta be about killing this and stabbing that?”

“I like the sharpness of the kid's edge,” Sota said and nodded. He took a sip of his drink and made a puckered face. “Gah... this is more bitter than Hana first thing in the morning.”

Gearal snickered as Hana's ears perked up at the mention of her name.

Sota clarified, “Gearal suggests we try to talk with Sugawara.”

One of Hana's ears drooped. “To what end? The man seems mercurial to whomever presents the strongest force to go against these accords so swiftly, and we are a disorganised band on the back-foot.”

“The current Lord has only been in power for a month,” Quartz explained, “and he spent most of his upbringing fighting alongside the mercenaries of Waraki to the north. I should know. I saw him myself while I was training there when we first arrived in Samsara. The man has little leadership experience, much less with the citizenry.”

Rose rolled her shoulders. “Yeah, we cut our teeth learnin' to fight there 'cause Waraki's a bit of a melting pot of combat styles. I took a liking to the Samsaran warclub there.” She grinned and thumbed her chin. “Love smackin' people with it. Asao Sugawara loves a fight too, which is why he didn't wanna learn diplomacy from his old man.”

“Just so,” Quartz confirmed. “Of course, Asao returned when his father became ill, but he seemed willing to continue our arrangement when mother last spoke with him... an arrangement the good Mr. Chapman here was supposed to maintain.”

Cedric gagged on his coffee and grinned nervously. “Yes... made a fool of me, that one. He must have substantial cunning!”

Rose hissed and her nose wrinkled. “He's a fuckin' moron and you know it, ya lying taffir! Anyway, we're gettin' off topic.” She suddenly spoke in a pristine Bralranian. “Why do you believe Sugawara will be amenable to words when he is a dullard, Gearal_?”_

Sota patted the boy on the shoulder. “Gearal, allow me.” He took another sip of coffee, exploring the odd acidity and mulled over the harsh bitterness to give him a moment to form his argument. “Varisidra said she seemed to believe it would be the people who tossed The Ministry out of the city, not on a river of blood. That's everyone's answer to everything in Samsara. Overplayed and overblown and a sign of a lack of real skill and nuance in a city that's been dealing with Eastern style peace for a decade. This may still be Samsara, but we're dealing with people decidedly not Samsaran in their way of life, no? Ten years of peace, protection and mingling with outsiders rather than invaders.”

Quartz thumbed his chin. “Winning people over was always mother's greatest skill. I can read a person, but people are troublesome. In times of uncertainty, they tend to draw down the intellect to the lowest common denominator.”

“As in, most've'em're also idiots,” Rose said. She then leaned back on her chair and put her feet on the table. “Look, you can talk about makin' friends with Sugawara all ya want, but I doubt gettin' to him's gonna be easy. He's gonna have guards out the ass and he's got a lot of Vliechoven locks and traps that ma's been sellin' to Sugawara's old man over the years to keep him safe. The place is a deathtrap.”

“I could do it,” Gearal said. “I studied the castle when training on infiltration. I know how the castle's planned out and the devices involved. Plus, I bet if we confronted Sugawara and had Miss bunny here kick his arse, then Sota smooth-talk his way with him, Asao would come around real quick.”

Sota smiled but shook his head. “I respect your courage, but you are also a cat, no? If The Ministry saw you on our passage there, I do not believe they would be merciful.”

Gearal blew a raspberry. “To the Saints' hells with that. I've gotta prove I can take the initiative and get things done or mother won't let me work by myself. Better I go and help you and Hana and lead you to Sugawara. I'll be your shadow, and you'll be my mask.”

“We can go one better'n that,” Rose said and stood. “We can cause a mess here and distract The Ministry while you guys get to the castle, it should draw more eyes to us and stop'em watchin' their own asses. Hell, if we kick up enough of a stink, I bet that Hanzo prick would be forced to show up too. Hey, bro!” She thumped the table and leaned towards her twin. “You in?”

Quartz sighed, shrugged, then nodded. “It beats doing nothing but await our fates. However, if Sugawara cannot be reasoned with...” He stared at Sota, Hana and Gearal in turn, then cast his gaze to the floor. “Kill him. The accords would force a public vote on control of Hantoka should the current lord pass away. I can't guarantee we will retain any power, in fact I suspect the Ministry will have frightened most into wanting to side with them, but it will slow the transition and possibly give mother a chance to figure out an alternative.”

Sota scratched his nose. “If that's what it comes to? Fine. Last resort.”

“As for our assault,” Quartz resumed. “Our weapons are on the ship and the Ministry has already ransacked our storehouse. We have some cooking knives and cleavers, and we could break some chairs for clubs. I prefer fighting with my fists, but I don't like our odds without our clan brethren inadequately armed when Hantoka's guards wear iron plate.”

Rose snorted and spat on the floor. “Then we conquer with our heads instead of our claws!” She looked at Gearal and smirked. “Let us go and wage war, brother.”

Gearal leapt into and punched at the air. “Yes!” He wrapped the satchel around his shoulder and stood, arms akimbo, amber eyes aflicker and chest puffed out. “I am ready! When do we forward?”

Hana's ears flicked and lopped as she studied the inside of her mug. “Not to delay your people's liberation from The Ministry, but could I have another coffee? I quite like it.”

Sota swirled the last dregs of his around of his drink, slugged it down then sucked on his teeth. “I agree, I still need to figure out if I like it or not. As much as I can't wait to throw myself into harm's way, I'll be terribly distracted without solving this coffee conundrum.”

“Yeah, y'know what? I think I'm gonna need a kick up the ass for this mess,” Rose concluded and sat back down. “Still a bit weak from string bean stabbin' me.”

“If you wouldn't mind fetching another round of coffee, brother?” Quartz said and gestured to the pot.

Gearal pouted and stood. “Fine...”

* * *

“Hey, you dick-sucking, ass-licking taffirs!”

Everyone at the hastily formed checkpoint turned with a unified clank of metal armour.

Rose stormed up to them, with Quartz just behind her. Neither were armed but the soldiers scrambled to bring their spears and swords to the ready as if under siege. Several cera'an lurked in nearby alleyways and quietly observed, each armed with whatever clubs and blades they could gather.

A soldier stood forth to confront the pair, even as his companions gradually gathered behind him. “Halt! By the order of Lord Sugawara, your kind aren't allowed beyond the docks!”

Rose snarled as the nearby townsfolk noticed the rising tension and gave it a wide berth, then she stood up to, and loomed over, the guard. He was a sturdy looking man, but Rose was head and shoulders over him. She was thicker built as well, even without armour.

“You gonna stop me, little man? You think that iron armour's gonna prevent me from beatin' ya so hard you'll be bleedin', pissin' and shittin' outta every hole?”

The man stepped back, but grimaced and pulled himself together. “You're under arrest!”

The soldier brandished a tachi. As he went to turn the point at her, Rose grabbed the blunt back of the simpler, mass-produced katana. She clenched her arm, her already impressive bicep bulging as he struggled to pull the sword free. Rose stared at him, the turquoise flame burning deep and hardly moving an inch as the soldier threw more of his weight backwards as he tried to pull his weapon free, and even as a small trickle of blood fell from Rose's palm.

The other soldiers began to approach, but the way Rose suddenly snapped her eyes on them made the ten-strong group freeze in place.

Rose then pulled back herself, dragging her unfortunate prey with her for a dozen paces as he desperately tried to hold on to his blade. He was as a ragdoll against her strength as he tumbled to the floor in a crash of metal plates and chainmail. Rose looked over the blade, then hurled it away from the blockade and it clattered near the cera'an hiding in the alleyway. As all eyes remained on Rose's playful menace, the catfolk snuck the sword into the shadows. Rose then grabbed for the man, who crawled to his feet and fled back to his fellows, and she managed to pluck the helmet off his head.

“You hide in iron, and paddin', and cloth,” Rose rumbled as she licked the small cut on her hand. That vicious green fire in her eyes flared as she snickered with anything but mirth. “But you're just skin to be peeled and tanned to me. The shit in the way just makes it more fun.”

She clutched the helmet between her hands and roared as she clasped them together. The sturdy iron buckled and bent under her strength.

“And you ain't holdin' us!” Rose launched the crumpled helmet at the guards, pumped her fist skyward and bellowed, “cera'an!! Vro graashir!! Vro kishir!!”

One of the swifter spearmen lunged at Rose with his polearm, but Quartz intercepted with a deft stomp of his foot upon the shaft and a roundhouse to the soldier's head, sending him crashing down in a heap. As Quartz stepped over the weapon, he kicked it backward just as the other cera'an charged the line. One snatched it up into his hands and the mob descended upon the guards.

The long call of a Samsaran jinkai war-horn echoed through the streets as the soldiers called for backup. The skirmish was fully underway, but the catfolk were demonstrating their guile. They moved like ocean waves upon the shore, buffeting the line and luring them back in phases, and with all the chaos there was no chance of them noticing three figures climbing the edges of the crude barricade and vanishing into Hantoka's industrial sector.

Eastern inspired forges and workshops, crafting all things iron, steel and wood, dominated the region as much as the constant scent of smog. It didn't take long for the three to slip in and out of the many alleyways towards the palace. Gearal was the only one with any weapon, namely a dagger besides his assorted tools. He had his hood up and cloak draped low around his ankles to obscure his exotic cera'an features.

Sota also took a stained sack cloth and wrapped it around his head like a bandana, not wanting to let any older Ministry people recognise him at a glance. He also deprived a solid length of wood from its destiny as a foreign-style chair leg and slipped it into his haori.

The Hantoka guard occasionally glanced at them as they jogged through the streets, but ultimately gave them no mind as they hurried to the docks as the jinkai conch continued to sound for help.

“Your sister has a knack for carnage, it seems,” Sota said with a chuckle. “She and Hana are almost of a kind, but I do worry she has chewed more than one should bite since she's still recovering.”

“She'll be fine. Father trained Rose and Quartz everything he knows about warfare from the days of our clans warring in the old days, and mother doesn't let any of us go without learning how to make ourselves scarce and sneaky when needed. I just excelled at skulking.”

Sota scoffed at the idea of the almost seven-foot twins being able to sneak around, but that just led to his next question. “Your father is not here. He is not dead, is he?”

“Nah, just really badly seasick so he's keeping an eye on thing back in Ardentiphe. I haven't seen him for a couple of years now, but we send each other letters.”

“What is he like? I feel like you take after your mother while your older siblings are like him?”

“Yeah, something like that. Pa is like Rose in that he loses himself in fights too, but he's a big softy really. Always smiling and laughing. He's even bigger than big bro and sis too, if you'd believe it. Wields a chradarr with one arm and a shield in the other. That's this bloody big curved sword meant to be used with two hands. Sorta like that sword Hana uses, just broader like mother's scimitar.”

Hana sighed and pouted. “I spent many years growing accustomed to being alone, yet suddenly I feel very frustrated being excluded from all these conversations.”

“Right, right. Sorry, Hana,” Sota said and gave a small bow. “It never hurts to know more about those you're fighting alongside, no?”

“You have been socialising for two weeks.” Hana glanced around to ensure nobody was nearby, but they were far from any onlookers. “We need to focus. We're ill prepared strangers in a hostile city. Besides, you should tell Gearal to keep out of sight; we are here incognito and for once I am not the one who stands out the most, nor will I draw as much ire from the Hantoka guard compared to our charge.”

“Yes, yes. I hear understand,” Gearal huffed, tightened the hood around his head and kept to the side of the street.

If Hana felt any remorse for chastising her companions, she didn't show it. “Do you have a plan? I understand we are to infiltrate Sugawara's palace, but what of when we find the man himself? I doubt he will be alone.”

Sota shrugged. “As you said, we're strangers in a hostile city. At this point I suggest we keep putting one foot in front of the other, see where it takes us. That and pray either The Dragon's being lazy or on the Darchinissidai having St. Valarie's favour is working on us too.”

A new sound rang out across the city. An echoing voice that rumbled like thunder.

“ In the name of The Dragon, all able civilians gather in the castle square. Lord Asao Sugawara is going to make a public address! ”

Sota froze. “Tongueless empowered speech. They're wasting no time staking their claim on Hantoka, aren't they?” He then grinned. “Perhaps we should fulfil our civic duty and attend? What better way to find our target than watch him make a speech?”

Hana nodded. “Perhaps an opportunity will arise for us to kidnap him whilst the majority of the guard are after Rose and the others.”

“Hey, Gearal,” Sota said. “You might have a second shot at a kidnapping. I don't suppose you've got-”

“My poisons? You bet!” Gearal reached into his satchel and took out a bottle. He then produced an injection ring, slipping the small device onto his finger, and filled the reservoir with the murky substance and corked the needle. He then gave Sota a bubbly grin, a thumbs up, and a chill up Sota's spine that can only be inflicted by a child getting excited about sharp objects.

* * *

“Chihiro! Pay attention!”

“Yes-yes, Master Zenzi,” Chihiro stood up straight, then bowed.

“And control your hatch-chat,” Zenzi said in his low, creaking voice. “There will be an hour of menial labour for every slip up!”

Chihiro bowed again, but her mind kept being tugged elsewhere. She could see them beyond the opened gate and past the high arched bridge. Humans. A crowd of distracting movements like a million words bellowed at once assaulted her eyes. This was her first test outside of The Ministry's yataghan compound and exposure to so many people who both moved and spoke without restraint.

They were gathering for a speech by the new lord, a position he had received too soon, Chihiro thought. Asao Sugawara didn't act like a lord as she had been trained to read and manage on behalf of The Ministry. He was gruff, threatening, mean spirited and short sighted. His left eye and right hand flinched when frustrated, a sign of a man who had received and dealt many wounds and likely had. He expected to use violence to solve every problem.

Other nations coloured Samsara as a land of constant war, and with good reason. Only commanders and generals cut of a certain cloth rose to power over the thugs who lasted only as long as the first time they encountered a stronger or smarter foe. Each provincial lord was some combination of cunning or ruthless rather than those who could merely charm their way up. Inheriting the role had its own challenges, but so long as Asao could talk half as well as he could fight, Samsaran people would follow him.

Beyond the mighty doors, in the outer square beyond Sugawara's castle, Chihiro couldn't help but stare at every single figure. The furrowed brows of many, some out of confusion, others fear, some in frustration out of their busy days being interrupted. Some eyed neighbours to chat, others to pilfer yon in the cramped space. So many people. Every single one moving, emoting, gathering and moving. It made Chihiro's head spin.

Zenzi grabbed Chihiro's beak. “Pay attention! Guide Lord Sugawara's words, but do not speak for him! Gentle coaxing into the speech he has had to memorise on short notice and obey his orders otherwise. Understood?”

Chihiro nodded. Or tried to, as her beak was still being held.

“Good.” Zenzi released Chihiro and neatened his robe. “I must assist Master Hanzo in dealing with those barbaric catfolk fiends. They have been here but mere hours and have already seen fit to disobey The Dragon's decrees.”

Zenzi left through the gate, with the silent and eerie Hanzo beckoning him along. The townsfolk grew still and quiet as the pair were in sight, and only resumed their miniature chaos as the pair vanished towards the rebellion at the docks.

“I don't care what that bastard says,” a voice behind Chihiro said. “And you won't say a damn thing either if you know what's good for you!”

Chihiro turned towards Sugawara. The hairy and battle-scarred man wore his silken robe of office with the same grace as a man dying of thirst drinks water. His thumb pushed his sword from its sheath, then he flicked it back in. Every rustle, wrinkle and fold of his clothes, every awkward fidget, scratch and gritting of his teeth and twitch of his eye made Chihiro clench her beak as he radiated rage and hostility. Even so, Chihiro had to follow The Dragon's orders.

“Lord Sugawara-wara! Principal of the Flock Zenzi insisted on the speech you practised-”

Asao's hand approached. Chihiro had been trained not to move from her superior's motions. She expected a tap on the beak, or for it to be pinched shut. Instead, he punched her. She spun and squawked as an almost blissful blindness to all the effervescent motions of Asao and the crowd in favour of her brain rattling in her skull. An overwhelming whine in her ears and a scatter of lights in her eyes.

Muffled, Asao barked, “are you mocking me!?”

“No-no!” Chihiro prostrated herself before Asao. “B-but what about the speech, Lord Sugawara? You can't defy-fy The Ministry!”

Asao wrapped his gnarled fingers around his sword. “You ain't got any authority over me, Ministry 'pet!' Your masters mean nothing to me until they get those fleabag catfolk out my lands! Now shut the hell up!”

Chihiro climbed to her feet and pursued Asao as he climbed onto the apex of the arched bridge. He eyed them with contempt for a time, cleared his throat, and began his address.

* * *

“Miserable looking bastard, isn't he?” Sota scratched his stubbly chin as Asao stormed onto the high arch. “Wouldn't want to run into him on a dark night. Anyway, let's listen in. We might get a better idea of who he is and if we can get to him after his little gathering here.”

Hana's brow furrowed. “I can tell much about him already. He has the look of a man who has faced death many times and discovered the frivolities of the common folk repugnant. I have seen his ilk before, where the hardships of the atrocities of war darken once jovial, kindly spirits. A bifurcation of the inner and outer strength within us all, and how one falls victim to lashing out as one grows accustomed to its uses over the will of the heart.”

“Huh, poetic,” Sota added and gave Hana a knowing look. “It also sounds very familiar.”

Gearal remarked, “he's got a face like a slapped arse.”

Sota snorted and cackled. The back-most townsfolk gave him a confused glance, to which Hana stepped in front of Gearal to block him from view. The citizens then returned to looking at Asao as the lord cleared his throat.

“People of Hantoka! Shut up and listen!”

The gentle drone of the whispering crowd went fully silent, though a few more murmurs could be heard as a yatagha hopped on stage, fretting and fiddling with her clawed fingers while looking between Asao and the crowd, yet she said nothing.

Sota stuck his tongue into his cheek and cocked an eyebrow at the meek yatagha by Sugawara's side. “Either Asao's a terrible Tongueless candidate or that's a junior Voice of He left unsupervised with this ape of a man.”

Hana tilted her head. “Meaning?”

Sota shrugged, gestured to the stage and focused on Asao who, satisfied with the level of quiet, paced around the stage and continued speaking.

“I don't like the Ministry being here anymore than you, but I hate the ongoing abuse from the catfolk more! They're exploiting us through those damned Yojikuba accords! Free trade? The rest of Samsara thrives without indulging in the filth from abroad, and they've pulled out our fangs too! The world sees us as weak! Our own people consider us 'the open wound of Samsara,' and the barbarians across the world see us as the 'easy way' into our great land! No damn longer! Follow me and we'll put Hantoka back under our control!”

Sota glanced around. A lot of people were considering Asao's words, but just as many were scoffing and mumbling amongst themselves. Typical reactions to new people being put in charge, but Sota spotted a few that made his blood run cold. They looked like locals. They had been acting like locals up until recently, but they remained still and didn't pay Asao any heed, just staring at the people. Something he had seen before when assisting Master Riku when dealing with larger disputes that concerned townships and villages.

“Hana?” Sota said and tapped her arm and leaned close to whisper. “Don't look, you won't recognise them, but there're Ministry spies hiding in the crowd. They're here to catalogue people who might not side with Sugawara.”

Hana stole a glance but forced herself to keep watching Asao. “Unfortunate for the populace, but we must achieve our goal. I assume we still plan to follow once he finishes?”

“It's worse than that.” Sota pulled Hana and Gearal back from prying ears. “This isn't just coercing Sugawara to join The Ministry, this is a 'cleansing.' They're checking for people likely to stand with the cera'an and I'd bet The Dragon's left nut they're going to be taking the most vocal and prominent into custody. Or execution.”

Hana looked at the crowd again as Sota quickly explained the same in Bralranian to Gearal. When he finished, Hana said, “I don't doubt it, but we have a goal here. We must isolate and deal with Sugawara, one way or another, or it won't matter.”

Gearal bared his sharp teeth. “Can't we do anything to stop them? I get we've got a job to do, but surely, we can start a mess to mask our movements and use that to protect the normal folk too?”

“I know! I'm thinking!” Sota paced about, ruffling his messy hair with one hand and chewing the nails of the other.

“Sacrifices are necessary in war, Sota,” Hana added. “I know you do not wish to see people come to harm, but we simply can't- hey!”

Sota paced ahead, then looked over his shoulder and muttered, “I'm sorry, but I leave Sugawara to you. I'll make a distraction.”

He resumed his walk, despite Hana's harsh whispers beckoning him back, but he had already closed off to all but darker intent as he targetted one of the men he had been staring at moments before. The chair leg he had taken from earlier slipped out from his sleeve and into his hand as he lifted his arm.

The dull and heavy crack of the wood on the man's head seemed to ripple around him. People stepped away as if adrift and washed away as if the peace were a placid ocean and the strike a tidal wave. Before the man could even fall, Sota reached into the man's haori, then held his arm in place as the man fell. Sota's twirled a shining jutte just as other Ministry plants amongst the crowd nodded at each other and drew their own weapons.

“Drop your weapon! You're under arrest!”

Lord Sugawara's speech halted as a stand-off began. He glowered at Sota, who now brandished both the jutte and chair leg with a cocksure grin and a dancer's twirl as he observed the approaching Ministry men.

Assured of their victory, three approached at once, one drawing another jutte and the other two drawing a sai each, similar blunt and sword-warding weapons but with two flanges instead of one.

Knowing this was an opportunity, Hana grimaced and pulled Gearal away and down a nearby alley as Sugawara snarled and walked back into his castle, with Chihiro hopping along behind him, and his guards securing the bridge as the crowd began to disperse.

Sota cricked his neck side to side, then shook his shoulders. He raised his jutte to meet one attacker. Ministry tactics took hold as his foe hesitated and a man behind Sota darted at him instead. Sota read the pause in the opponent at his front, brought his jutte lower and threw the chair leg over his shoulder, straight behind him. The spinning cudgel caught the flanking man unawares and slowed his assault, but Sota followed it up by charging at the third man to the side, one blocking the very alley Hana had used as the most obvious exit.

The man thrust his sai and Sota caught the weapon with his own with the pell of hard steel on steel. Weapons locked, and hundreds of hours learning Ministry martial arts let Sota predict the usual flow of this fight his foe's fingers lunged toward Sota's eyes. He caught one digit in his hand and wrenched it sideways with a crunch. Sota then twisted their arms into a tangle, slammed a knee into the man’s crotch and a forehead into his nose. Sota pulled himself free, snatching the locked sai with it, and hopped to the side as the other two moved to close the gap. Having outstayed his welcome and with two weapons, Sota saw more Ministry folk draw close, so he fled.

Not far away, Hana approached the edges of the castle wall. She forced herself to suppress the memory of escaping her family estate, instead addressing Gearal.

“Prepare yourself. This is where we enter.”

Gearal took a moment, his ears going askew and eyes squinting before nodding as he understood. “How?”

Hana knelt and gestured to her back, to which Gearal wrapped his arms around her shoulders. She then put her feet beneath her, took a sharp breath and with a mighty flex of her thighs, leapt up the wall, grabbing the ledge.

“Quickly, up,” Hana hissed.

“Yes!”

Gearal scrambled up and dropped down the other side.

Hana hoisted her legs up and over the outer wall.

* * *

14th Day of Tearful Sky, 1554

Hana dropped on the other side of the river. The bridge over the top had yet to be completed, so she risked hopping along the dam's central struts. Hana had no desire to wade and muddy her feet in the downstream mire nor swim in the river. She also wanted to stretch her legs by making sure her long sleep hadn't made her sluggish.

The cold water burbled below through the small, slotted gaps as the irrigation reservoir filled, ready to flood the rice paddies once they were fully planted. This was where Sota had been working, going by Natsume's information, but work had finished for the day and the few villagers still lingering were chatting amongst themselves, while most had retired for the evening. It was growing cold, but Hana's fur arrested most of the chill.

Adventuring alone and playing with her agility, Hana felt like a child again. The freedom inousan youths experienced as their developing leg muscles far outgrew any other form of play as they slowly learned their limits. Rooftop bounding, sprinting and tree climbing were all fine ways to learn what would turn into the very reason why inousan warriors were so greatly feared. She had heard the rat-people of Bralran were the strongest beings in the world, pound for pound, but theirs was a slow, steady power. Inousan legs were akin the strings of a longbow, while the raothaar were as sledgehammers.

She hopped from foot to foot, taking lengthy, playful strides as she continued to seek Sota, but a sudden scratch of claw on wood made her ears stand out on end. She glanced at a tree, then realised it had come from above.

“Chihiro?”

“... no?”

Hana's eyes fought to climb upward. She couldn't tell if from trying to roll or spot the crafty bird. She said, more firmly, “Chihiro.”

The clack of a beak. Another scrape of claw on wood. Then a telltale birdish warble. “How did you know?”

Hana folded her arms and, again, refused to dignify Chihiro's play by looking at her. “How many villagers are known for ascending trees and perching in wait like an overtly nosy spy?”

“But I don't have a nosey-nose!”

“Just get down here, Chihiro. Please.”

Chihiro scrambled down the tree by cartwheeling down the trunk, her foot and hand claws latching on as her arms and legs sent her cascading down with a snowfall of bark fragments. She landed and continued her tumble, coming to a perfect stand in front of Hana.

“Pleasy-please and done!”

Hana exhaled a sharp sigh. Then she knelt down and pulled Chihiro into a hug.

Chihiro croaked for a moment, then returned the hug and added, “squeezy-squeeze for fun! Why a hug?”

“Because... I owe you this and more. Just as I owe Sota more than the silence I have given.”

“You never owe me anything, Hana,” she whispered in a lower pitch. “Every day I have free is thanks to you and Sota.”

“And yet I bother you both with my sorrows. I shall do more, I swear.” Hana absorbed the warmth from one of the few loves in her life. Small and wiry as she was, Chihiro would ever be the biggest presence in her life. The childish antics and eccentric acts were nothing short of her way to cut through Hana's ever-distancing armour. Humility and surprise were fine ways to cast away the inner gloom, and Hana couldn't be more thankful.

She stroked Chihiro's head and neck, feeling the fur of her palm against the yatagha's fine plumage, then brought her friend – if not sister in all ways but blood - away so she could look into Chihiro's dark blue eyes.

“I shall live, and fight for every joy I can find, but I'll need your help. You and Sota.”

“Of course,” Chihiro said and released Hana. Her tone once more perked up. “But you have to do the thingy-thing you know you have to do!”

“Yes. I know.” Hana sighed, savouring the brief moment of focus Chihiro had once more lost. “I trust you know where he is?”

Chihiro nodded and pointed to one of the few hills in sight of the village, peeking over both the forest and also the lake which supplied the river. “Go to him and be wide open, and I know he will be as well. The only way to bury the past in full sometimes is to diggy-diggy the whole thing up first!”

“I suppose we must. The path ahead must rely on such a solid foundation, lest we lose our way. A foundation strong as rock and stone.”

Hana patted Chihiro on the head, eyed the distant hill, and began her walk. Her strides light and unburdened in the soft, lush and vibrant green grass.

* * *