The HeraldÕs Tale
For thirteen nights, the storms rocked our little boat, tossing us like petals in a carp pond. The lightning flashed above us, and the waves frothed below. Our lives were in the hands of the Seven Fortunes.
My name is Miya Mashigai, and I am a servant of the Shining Emperor and a faithful samurai of the house of Miya, the Heralds of the Jade Throne. I was a Herald of the Empire, carrying the words of our noble Emperor Toturi the First to the armies of the mighty clans in the south. My boat, the White Blossom, was to carry me down the coast of Rokugan, my native country, to the deep southern bay of the Clan of the Crane.
But the fortunes willed that it would not be so.
High winds carried us far from the sharp rocks of shore, into the depths beyond the darkest ocean. When the storm came upon us, we had been hardly a week out, not even to the white sands of magnificent Kyuden Doji. As the days passed, the wind tore our rowers from their seats, hurling them into the dark and bitter sea. On the stormÕs thirteenth night, the craft was struck in two by a bolt of lightning, and the air was filled with splinters, ash, and burning cinders. I was near the great mast. As the water closed over my head, I lashed the rope from the torn sail about my waist, tying myself to the wood.
I alone survived the night, and drifted to this strange island. When I felt the cold, dark sand beneath my sodden feet, I praised the eternal spirits of my ancestors, who had surely escaped JigokuÕs wrath to carry me this far. Staggering up the beach, I saw strange peasants in flowered skirts, whispering and pointing. One, a man whose jet-black hair and upturned eyes resembled my own, brought me an earthen jug of sweet water. If I knew his name, I would recite prayers to praise his family for ten times ten years at the Shrine of the Ki-Rin, deep in the lands of my faraway home... if, that is, I could ever journey there again.
The heimin peasants helped me kneel on a low palanquin of think wood and carried me to your palace. Even beneath the blanketÕs warmth, I could feel the chill. I looked up toward the archers who manned the walls, and I did not know their weapons. Tall and dark, the archers carried strange banners of ebony and pearl. The guards who came to meet us listened to the chattering of the heimin for a while, then sent them all back to their village, carrying me to your ceremonial hall.
I have lived here, among your palace walls, for two years. I have learned the language of your people - enough to understand their stories and hear their words when you grant mercy and punish the unfaithful. I know you are a wise ruler, and I have seen how the Fortunes have blessed this strange, mountainous land. But this is not my home, and now, as I rest beside the lacquered shutters by the window of my room, I know that I will never again see my Jade Empire. You have asked me to tell you stories of my homeland, brave daimyo, an that is what I shall do.
My homeland is a place of wonder, where the maidens in their silk kimonos move like willows in the breeze, and where magic springs from the touch of a shugenjaÕs hand. A single katana-strike, and the world changes in a blur of steel. Noble bushi fight for their daimyoÕs honor, and cunning shugenja enchant the mists of the land to keep their people safe from war. The brave samurai labor to keep the Empire safe from the land of the demons to the south - the Shadowlands - while the heimin grow rice and sing tales of ancient heroes and far-distant times. To our sorrow, we have known war, but once the steel of swords has been silenced, the tales of honor begin. That has always been a HeraldÕs duty, to carry news from the EmperorÕs court to the land. I can see no reason that I should not carry the words of our glorious Jade Empire to your foreign shore.
With brush and ink, your scribe labors, writing words in a strange language that I cannot understand. As I speak, the brush moves across the rice paper; the sound is soothing.
What you hold in your hand now, great lord, are the tales of my homeland. They are the stories of jade and of glory, and they are the legends of heroes. Each one carries in it some grain of what my people most revere: courage, honor, loyalty, bushido. They are the most remembered names in the Jade Empire, and it is my honor to introduce to you their ancient tales. May their stories inspire your own deeds, and may their deaths - noble and tragic alike - bring you some understanding on the ancient Empire that lies somewhere beyond the sea.
These, my noble foreign daimyo, are the Heroes of Rokugan.