Shimomura, Scorpion Lands

Kakita Rekkusu barely had time enough to save his own life, much less the lives of the others gathered in the teahouse. He had been having a perfectly pleasant but rather uninteresting conversation with a distant cousin, Kakita Akija, whom he was visiting in the bustling trade city of Shimomura. Shimomura sat along a vital trade route between the Crane and Scorpion lands, two clans that conducted a brisk trade for all their disagreements in court. Rekkusu had been in the area in his new position as one of the Emperor’s magistrates. In mid sentence, Akija’s face had contorted as if in pain, and then an expression of absolute fury had come over him. Rekkusu had never known his cousin to be a wrathful man, and was so taken aback that he nearly died, throwing himself to the side with less than seconds to spare as Akija unleashed a blast of noxious flame across the room.

Rekkusu rolled away and under a table, reaching down to feel the singed cloth just to reassure himself that his flesh had not been charred by the heat. He heard a jagged scream that was cut off by a rush of hot air and another wave of heat. His cousin seemed intent on destroying the building and everyone within it, perhaps even himself. Rekkusu had not even known Akija was a shugenja, and was quite certain he had never been trained as such. That left only a handful of possibilities. Either he was so powerful a shugenja that the kami had taught him themselves, which was so rare as to be impossible, or…

A Bloodspeaker. A maho-tsukai. Rekkusu snarled at the thought and drew his blade carefully, making little noise and avoiding cutting himself where he lay beneath the table, his kimono still smoldering from the heat.

“Kill them!” Akija screeched. “Kill them all! For you, master! For you!”

Rekkusu kicked a low stool as hard as he could. It slid across the floor and struck his cousin squarely in the knees. He thought he heard something pop, but he wasn’t sure. Akija fell to the floor, howling in pain, even as Rekkusu leapt to his feet, hurling the table aside. He held his blade high and rushed toward his cousin, but he saw the man raise his hand and knew he would not be fast enough.

Rekkusu reached down and grabbed a tiny black bottle from a nearby table, hurling it at his cousin. The black clay shattered when it struck the Bloodspeaker’s face, showering him with a yellowed, strong-smelling liquid that Rekkusu could smell even across the room. Akija snarled and attempted to complete his spell, but when his hand was sheathed in fire, it quickly leapt up his arm and onto his face and upper body.

Kakita Akija shrieked in agony and rolled about on the ground, the flammable liquid immolated with the spell he had attempted to cast on Rekkusu. The Emerald Magistrate stood over his cousin, blade held aloft, for the briefest of moments.

“Traitor!” he whispered. And he did his duty to lord Toturi.