By Shawn Carman

Toshi Ranbo, one week ago

Ikoma Otemi walked through the hallways of Kyuden Ikoma, his footfalls echoing quietly in the grand halls. During most of the day, the estate was a hectic place, with messengers, scribes, and ambassadors hurrying about, attempting to stay abreast of every political twist and turn. It was maddening. Otemi slipped the scroll he had received only an hour ago from his obi and ran his fingers over the seal it carried. It contained orders from the Lion Champion - orders he had been relieved to receive.

Otemi slid back the shoji screen and stepped into his private quarters. He walked in and placed his wakizashi on the rack beneath his katana, then turned to his writing desk and sat down. He was well into the second line of his letter when a soft voice interrupted. “Have you no greeting for me, husband?”

The voice startled Otemi, and his pen scratched a long, black line across the paper. He grimaced and folded the paper over, placing it aside for disposal. “Forgive me, Yasuko-chan,” he said softly, taking a second sheet. “I did not realize you were here. I thought you were attending Kakita Omai’s new play this afternoon.”

“I changed my mind,” Yasuko said demurely. She was resting on a soft cushion near the room’s largest window, turning over a small puzzle box in her thin fingers. “Something came up,” she said. She looked up at him, her dark eyes intent behind her transparent silken mask. “It is unusual to find you home at this time of day.”

Otemi nodded. “As you say, something has come up. I was writing a letter for you to explain. I have been ordered to travel to the City of the Rich Frog and assume command of the forces protecting the city there. It seems Nimuro-sama is displeased with the progress being made and is removing several officers from their command.”

“Oh, my.” Yasuko said, gasping slightly. She placed the box aside and turned to face her husband. “Is the battle not going well? That sounds most serious.”

“The battle has been at a standstill for months,” Otemi said. “Even after the winter thaw, the conflict has been limited to skirmishes throughout the summer and fall. The arrival of the Dragon has only made things more difficult.”

“How can one wage a war against one enemy when he does not know if another waits in the shadows?” Yasuko finished.

“That is only the beginning,” Otemi said. “The Dragon march under the Imperial Banner. It is clear that Naseru does not approve of this war.” He was silent for a long time. “Does he not trust the Lion to bring this matter to an appropriate conclusion? Are we no longer his Right Hand?”

“Who can say why the Emperor does what he does?” she asked, then looked at him seriously. “And who are we to doubt him?”

“It is not the Emperor I doubt,” Otemi replied, though he let the words linger.

“Nimuro, then?” Yasuko asked. “In recent months he has become more erratic.”

Otemi frowned. “As is his right,” he replied tersely. “He is the Golden Lion, lord of our clan.” He looked at her. “Who am I to doubt him?”

“You are a hero,” she said, “and you will end this war he has begun.”

Otemi looked away uncomfortably. “Why are you sitting in here with no lantern, Yasuko-chan?” he asked. “Is something wrong?”

“I felt a bit ill,” she confessed. “So I came here. You know I am more comfortable in the shadows.” She picked the puzzle box and returned to toying with it.

A long silence passed between them.

“Were you planning to leave without speaking to me, then?” she asked.

Otemi’s face grew flush. “Time is of the essence. I must leave today.”

“We,” she corrected. “We must leave today. Where you go, I go.”

“No,” he said adamantly. “You must remain here. Kaeru Toshi is too dangerous.”

Yasuko turned to look at him then. Her normally inscrutable features were, for once, as open and honest as a child’s. There was a hurt expression in her eyes. “I understand,” she said quietly. “I know what I was.”

Otemi rose and crossed the room to kneel near her. “This is no matter of trust,” he said in a gentle voice. “You are my wife, and I would never permit you to come to harm. I could not fulfill my duties if I feared for your safety.”

“The only time I feel safe is at your side,” she replied, her voice strangely sad.

Otemi began to say something else, then stopped and nodded. “I will have your steed prepared,” he said. “Make ready to leave at once.” With that, he rose and left the room, disappearing down the hallway in the direction of the stable.

The fields outside Kaeru Toshi, yesterday

Among the enemies of the Lion, few sights are more fearsome than a Deathseeker. Those Lion warriors who have abandoned their names, abandoned their future, who seek no more honor in this life than what death in combat can bring. Akodo Fumio was among the most fearsome of the Deathseekers, and was well used to seeing enemies quail in terror before his blade. It gave him some measure of satisfaction to see that these Unicorn were not afraid.

The Moto warrior bore down on Akodo Fumio like a storm, screaming some gaijin warcry at the top of his lungs, a broad-tipped scimitar held aloft for the killing stroke. A dozen possibilities flashed through the Lion’s mind, just as his sensei had trained him long ago. Knowing the charge could not be avoided, Fumio hefted his no-dachi and rushed toward the charging horse.

There was only enough time for surprise to register on the Moto’s face before Fumio’s strike sliced through horse and rider in one stroke. The scimitar went wide, but still left a long, jagged cut along Fumio’s upper left arm. Death did nothing to stop the horse’s momentum, and the beast’s corpse crashed heavily into the charging Lion. The impact drove all air from his lungs in a single rush, and he felt something snap beneath the lacquered plates of his armor. The horse’s dead weight drove him to the ground and pinned him there.

Fumio could barely move. His left arm was filled with searing agony, virtually useless. His no-dachi had fallen far enough away that he could not reach it, and his daisho was pinned against his leg beneath the horse. He struggled to push the corpse off, but the pain made his head swim, threatening to completely overwhelm him and drive him into unconsciousness. Grinding his teeth against the pain, he summoned every last ounce of his strength and rolled the still-warm animal off of him, ignoring the involuntary tears of pain that blurred his vision.

Panting with exertion and faint from the burning in his chest and arm, Fumio struggled to his feet. The battle had grown strangely quiet, although there was still a great clamor from all around him. The surly Deathseeker glanced around, seeking other Lion in the midst of the chaos. He shouted the Akodo name, and none answered his cry.

A trio of Unicorn infantrymen approached, spears held at the ready. One showed no emotion or expression of any kind, clearly a veteran soldier. The other two, however, glanced at one another and smiled cruelly, their minds no doubt filled with the image of a dying Lion impaled upon their spears.

The pain wracking Fumio’s body was suddenly gone, filled with a white-hot rage. Once, the rage had consumed him. That rage had brought him shame, and the results of unchecked rage had led him to the Deathseekers. He had struggled against the rage in years past, but now he embraced it like a long forgotten lover.

“Barbarian scum!” he snarled, flecks of bloody spittle spraying from his mouth. He raised both arms, lifting his no-dachi above his head and feeling a fresh wave of blood from the wound on his arm.

“Madman,” whispered one of the Unicorn.

“Deathseeker,” the veteran corrected, taking a step back behind the others.

“Watch!” he screamed, drawing looks from those near him who were not engaged with an opponent. “Watch me! Watch how a Lion dies!”

Akodo Fumio threw himself at the three attacking Unicorn with a scream that was pure, primal fury. Lion and Unicorn blood mixed in the grass, slowly poisoning the earth.

The Ikoma provinces

Behind the Lion front, well inside the heavily defended Ikoma provinces, an old man stood quietly staring west toward the thin ribbons of smoke that wound lazily into the sky. War was nothing new to Ikoma Sume. He had lived longer than most men. Those who had been his comrades in youth were now only memories. Now death had come to the Lion again. Death, he thought with a smile, was the only old friend he had not outlived.

Would this wretched, burning field of death be his legacy? His lord and Champion had commanded him to bring the City of the Rich Frog into the Lion’s domain, and he had done so with his usual gift for manipulation. All that he had done was necessary, if his methods hardly adhered to the strictest interpretations of bushido.

“Uncle?”

The pensive voice from behind him stirred Sume from his dark musings. He turned and regarded his nephew with a warm smile that belied the weary sadness that had dominated his thoughts so much over the past months. “Otemi,” he said with a trace of both genuine happiness and cold dread. “You are preparing to leave, then?”

“Yes, uncle,” the young man answered. “The troops are assembling even now. We leave within the hour.” Sume nodded, stroking his beard thoughtfully. Otemi frowned at the old man’s absent expression. “What troubles you, uncle?”

“I hardly know,” the old man answered with a shake of his head. “I am troubled by the war, I suppose.” He looked at Otemi. “I am troubled at the notion of you at the war, if I am to be perfectly honest.”

Otemi seemed taken aback by the comment. “I am a Lion,” he answered without hesitation. “I am samurai. It is my duty to wage war against my lord’s enemies.”

“Of course,” Sume said, waving the comment away. “I too, were I not infirm with age, would gladly take up the blade and march into battle. It is our way. After all,” he sighed, “are the Unicorn not our enemies?”

Otemi looked at Sume curiously. “Why are you troubled, then?”

Sume sighed and was quiet for a moment. “I have lived a long life, longer than I deserve,” he offered quietly. “Of late, I dwell on the lives of all the young samurai who have died in this. They will never learn from their mistakes and grow. They will never become an asset to their family and clan, maturing from foolish, brash youth into the sunset of life, when one only begins to learn what we laughingly believe is true wisdom.” He trailed off, staring again to the west. “Should I regret that thy have died so young? Or should I perhaps give thanks that they do not live to see the world as I do?”

“I have never heard you speak this way, uncle,” Otemi said. “It concerns me. Are you unwell?”

“I am well, if old and foolish.” Sume replied. “I never made time for a family of my own. It is the one duty my loyalty never allowed. You are the closest thing I shall ever have to a son, Otemi, and though I would feel great pride in your accomplishments if you fell in battle, I would feel greater relief if you returned unharmed. I would not see you die in this war I have created.”

Otemi glanced down, unaccustomed to such displays of emotion. “I have every intention of returning, uncle, but I can make no promises. No man knows his destiny.”

“Of course,” Sume answered. “And enough of such things. You will bring much honor and glory to the Ikoma, of this I have no doubt.”

“Thank you,” Otemi said with a quick bow. “I must ask of you a favor.”

“Only name it and it is yours,” the old man said with a smile.

The young officer’s face was strangely devoid of emotion as he considered his phrasing. “Yasuko insists on accompanying me to Kaeru Toshi,” he finally said. “I would prefer she remain here, where it is safe, but she is obstinate.” He paused for a moment and frowned. “She has been acting strangely of late. I am… concerned about her.”

“I must remain here, Otemi-san,” Sume said.

“I know you have eyes within Kaeru Toshi,” Otemi said, looking intently at his uncle. “Ask them to protect my wife, I beg you.”

“A dutiful husband,” Sume observed, raising an eyebrow, “if not an affectionate one.”

Otemi’s frown deepened. “Marriage is a duty like any other,” he said somewhat tersely. “I have fulfilled my obligations to the Ikoma and the Lion.”

“You have indeed.” Sume bowed. “Good fortunes on the battlefield, nephew. May your enemies find honor in their defeat.”

Otemi returned the bow and left, leaving Sume alone once more. He turned back to the distant smoke to the west, his mind quickly turning to other matters.

The Lion encampment outside Kaeru Toshi, today

A cloud of dust rolled over the camp as Otemi and his command staff rode their steeds toward the ring of tents overlooking the city. He leapt down from his horse and wiped the thick dust from his face with his hand, carefully surveying the resources that would, in a few short moments, be his to command. The encampment looked to hold at least five hundred men, with at least that many again on patrol at any one point. A small force to patrol such a large city. Doubtless the vast bulk of Lion forces were deployed to the north and south, securing the Lion front from constant Unicorn advances and troublesome Dragon incursions. There were also likely a good number within the city itself, bolstering the Kaeru’s guard and defending it against any Unicorn who managed to penetrate its defenses. The city had changed hands several times during the course of the conflict, but the Lion had held it for over six weeks now. Otemi had no intention of allowing that tenure to come to an end.

“Ikoma Otemi-sama,” a samurai said, bowing very deeply before him. “We are honored to receive you.”

“The honor is mine,” Otemi returned. “You are Hasaku?”

“No, sama,” the man answered. “I am his hatamoto. He awaits you in the command tent. If you would follow me, please.”

Otemi nodded. He ordered his officers to take stock of supplies and make ready to receive the rations his forces brought with them, distributing them as necessary, then followed the hatamoto toward the largest tent in the camp’s center. The man bowed a second time, to which Otemi only nodded and stepped into the tent.

The command tent was like many he had seen before. Maps covered most of the tables within, adorned with tiny stone markers that represented different unit types and compositions. This had been the Lion way for a thousand years. It would likely continue for the next one thousand.

The tent’s lone occupant rose from the desk where he was finishing a scroll, rolling it tightly as he crossed the distance between the two and bowed deeply. Otemi noticed the Imperial Chrysanthemum emblazoned upon his armor. “Otemi-sama,” he said briskly. “I have made everything ready for you to assume command here.”

“Thank you, Hasaku-san.” Otemi returned the bow and offered a sealed scroll that bore the Lion Champion’s chop. “This is the official order removing you from command.” He paused. “I take no joy in this. I know the situation has been difficult, and have no doubt that your administration of this command post has been both skilled and capable, Hasaku-san.”

The older man sneered and opened his mouth to utter a terse reply, then paused. His weathered features softened. “Arigato,” he said sincerely, “but I fear Nimuro-sama disagrees. My understanding is that he is extremely displeased, though I am uncertain what more I could have done with the resources he has given me.”

Otemi grimaced. He was uncomfortable with the notion of discussing Nimuro’s behavior of late, and he feared he knew where it would lead. “Who can truly say?” he asked.

Hasaku nodded. He looked at the scroll. “Can I assume, then, that your orders include authorizing you to accept my seppuku?”

Otemi met Hasaku’s gaze squarely. “They do,” he said.

A look of relief passed across Hasaku’s features. “With your leave, commander, I will make preparations for the ceremony at dawn.”

Otemi exhaled sharply. “With regret, you have my permission.”

“Regret?” Hasaku seemed genuinely surprised. “Why do you say that, commander? Regret is a dangerous thing for a samurai.”

“This is war,” Otemi answered. “You are a skilled soldier and officer. I would prefer to have you among my forces. It is not my place to question Nimuro’s edict, but I would have you know all the same.”

“Of course,” Hasaku replied. He gestured to a nearby table. “I go to make preparations, but I have compiled the orders I have received from Nimuro-sama throughout the course of this conflict for your perusal.” Hasaku’s frown deepened. “If I might be so bold, commander, I suggest you review them very carefully, lest mistakes be made.” Hasaku turned and bent to exit the tent.

“Wait,” Otemi said. He looked at the older man’s serene features and felt tremendous respect for the ease with which he carried his burdens and faced his fate. “I would offer my services as your second, if you desire it.”

Hasaku’s eyes widened ever so slightly, then he bowed far deeper than before. “I would be greatly honored, Otemi-sama.”

Otemi nodded, and the other man left to prepare for his death.

It was late into the night before Otemi took a brief break from his research. Hasaku’s records were immaculate, and his notes on the skirmishes that had been fought thus far were as detailed as anything Otemi had ever read from the Ikoma histories. Doubtless the man had faults, else Nimuro would not remove him from command, but inattention to detail was clearly not among them.

The thought brought another deep frown to Otemii’s face. The record of orders received from Nimuro were somewhat erratic. It seemed the Lion Champion had dramatically altered his position on the battle a few short months after it began, ordering Hasaku to radically alter his troops’ position and deployment despite Hasaku’s intelligence reports urging measures to the contrary. The changes had come at critical times, and the Unicorn had punished the Lion mercilessly for their weakness. The same weakness that Nimuro denounced Hasaku for appeared to stem directly from the Champion’s change in orders, something that troubled the new commander deeply. He had considered bringing Hasaku before him to discuss the matter, but he knew without asking that the previous commander would not speak out against his Champion, regardless of what his orders had been. Supplying the documents to Otemi was as much as his honor would allow.

A rustling at the tent’s entrance drew Otemi’s attention. A samurai stood there, waiting for recognition. Upon meeting Otemi’s gaze, the battle-scarred man bowed deeply. “You summoned me, Otemi-sama?”

“I did,” Otemi answered, his expression growing severe. “You are Korin, nephew of Ikoma Fujimaro, gunso in the Lion armies?”

“I am,” the man answered.

“Then it was you who my uncle tasked with discovering the traitor in our midst,” Otemi said forcefully. “It is your duty to expose the party responsible for feeding information to our enemies, is it not? A duty you have been attempting to fulfill for some months now?”

“It is,” Korin answered flatly.

“And what have you discovered?” Otemi demanded.

There was a pause for a moment, as if Korin were considering something particularly profound. “I cannot say, commander.”

“So you know nothing,” Otemi answered. He held up a scroll and waved it toward Korin. “This report indicates that in the past three days alone, we have lost no less than four patrols to the Unicorn and their Scorpion allies. Four patrols, Korin. Does it weigh upon your conscience that these men died because you were unable to fulfill your duty and root out the traitor in our midst?”

“Yes it does,” Korin answered. His expression betrayed no emotion or reaction to Otemi’s words whatsoever.

“That is all you have to say?” Otemi asked incredulously. “You have nothing further to offer me? No reassurances that your task is nearly complete?”

“No, my lord,” the soldier replied. He paused for a brief moment. “Were you aware of the troop movements in question, commander? Prior to your arrival here, I mean?”

Otemi’s face instantly lost all expression, and his voice, which had been rising, dropped to a cool, even tone. “Are you suggesting I am involved with this espionage, Korin-san? Is that your implication?”

“Never,” the other man answered at once. There was only sincerity in his voice. “I do not believe you are capable of such deception, commander. Your honor is above question.”

“Flattery,” Otemi said in a disgusted tone. “My uncle thinks highly of you, Korin-san, but I have found nothing to justify his trust.” He threw a scroll to the other man, who caught it. “I am discharging you from your duties. When dawn comes, I do not wish to find you within this encampment. I will find another who is more capable of fulfilling your task.”

Korin bowed. “If that is your wish, commander.”

“It is,” Otemi said firmly. “Take your leave immediately. I have much to do before tomorrow.”

The seppuku ceremony of Ikoma Hasaku was conducted without incident. The man died nobly, with no sound escaping his lips as he performed the three cuts. In the end, Otemi took his head rather than watch the man suffer in silence. As Hasaku’s second, that was his right. When the ceremony had been concluded, Otemi offered a prayer for the dead man’s soul, then sent men to investigate whether or not Ikoma Korin was still within the camp. He was not.

It was mid-day when Otemi first entered the City of the Rich Frog. His personal yojimbo had accompanied Yasuko into the city upon arrival and secured safe lodging. Realistically, he did not believe she was any serious danger. Even if the Unicorn took the city again, all indications pointed to an alliance with the Scorpion, who would not allow one of their own to be killed. And despite their enmity, the Unicorn were not the barbarians many imagined them to be. They would not kill an unarmed woman because of her clan affiliation.

Or if they did, then no force in this world would save them.

There was little fanfare within the city. The damage from fire and repeated fighting was extensive. No one met Otemi’s eyes, but no one bowed or scraped as he passed either. Those who dwelled within the city were all but broken by the experience, bitter and hateful toward all responsible. For many who had lived in this city for years acknowledging no clan’s rulership, the Lion were responsible for this fate. Otemi wondered if he would feel differently had he experienced the same thing.

The meeting place was exactly as his uncle had described: unremarkable in every way. There was no obvious indication that it was of any importance, but Sume had assured him it was where the city’s decisions were made. Grimacing at the notion of entering, Otemi steeled his nerves and stepped through the doorway.

“Ikoma Otemi-sama.” Two men were present within the room, one older and one younger than Otemi. The older one he recognized instantly, a wizened man with the sharp eyes of a hunting falcon. “Such an honor to have you within our city,” Kaeru Tomaru said with a low bow.

“I regret that it is necessary,” Otemi replied with a nod. “Under ideal circumstances, you would be free to maintain your city as you see fit, and I would be elsewhere.”

The younger man frowned at Otemi’s words, but Tomaru only grinned. “Indeed, that certainly would be preferable, wouldn’t it?” Without pausing for the commander to consider the implication of his words, Tomaru gestured to the younger man. “Allow me to introduce my son and heir, Kaeru Meiji.”

“Pleasantries are not the purpose of my visit, though I am honored to meet you, Meiji-san,” Otemi said. “There is a grave matter I must discuss with you.”

“Of course.” Tomaru gestured to the low table. The three men sat, and Tomaru poured tea. Otemi declined, but the two vassals drank deeply. “How may we serve the Lion?” Tomaru finally asked.

“Someone is feeding information regarding the Lion forces’ movements to our enemies. Efforts to locate this spy within the Lion ranks have turned up nothing. I am forced to consider that there is a traitor among your number here in the city.”

Meiji’s eyes narrowed. “No Kaeru would endanger our city,” he said angrily.

“My son is not particularly diplomatic,” Tomaru said quickly, “but he is nevertheless correct. There is no traitor among the Kaeru. I have suspected the possibility for some time, and have monitored my agents closely. None who I trust with any significant strategic information have been allowed out of the city in months.”

“I find your assurances bring me little relief,” Otemi said tersely. “The movements that have been compromised are being changed. I will leave your city to you, but if there is any further evidence that our security has been compromised, I will remove control from you without hesitation.” Otemi rose and walked to the door. “Understand that this is best for the Lion as well as the Kaeru. Your interests are of no consequence compared to that of two families.”

Tomaru and Meiji sat silently for several moments after Otemi left. Tomaru finished his cup of tea, regarding his son carefully as he did so. “You will learn to mind your tongue around the Lion,” he said finally. “Our alliance has been quite fortuitous. I will not have you demolish it with your mindless outbursts.”

“Fortuitous?” Meiji demanded. “You and I have very different definitions of good fortune, father. And what does it matter what the Lion thinks of me? You do not trust me. Why should he?”

Tomaru sighed. “You are my heir, Meiji, and you must recognize that the backing of the Ikoma has allowed us to pursue more trade agreements than any time in this city’s history,” Tomaru countered. “The Kaeru hold more influence than any ronin family in Rokugan.”

“Ronin? The word is vassals, father.” Meiji shook his head in disgust. “We are no longer ronin. We are worse than ronin, for we do not have a ronin’s freedom. We are the Lion’s lapdogs, nothing more. Were I daimyo, I would have chosen our allies more wisely.”

Tomaru’s eyes narrowed. “You forget your place, you presumptuous upstart. Your words border on treason. Treason will not be tolerated, not even from my own son. I could easily name another as my heir, and perhaps the time is past due that I did.”

Meiji snorted and slammed his cup down on the table. “Past due,” he said with a bitter laugh. “What an ironic choice of words, father, for I am the Kaeru daimyo now.”

Tomaru’s face twisted in a mask of outrage. “How dare you speak to me in such a manner?” he demanded. “I will see you… see you…” his voice trailed off, and he clawed at his throat with his hand. His face paled as the slow truth of his situation settled upon him.

“I am sorry, father,” Meiji said with a shrug. “The time has come for a change, and you simply are not capable enough to do what must be done.” He looked at his father impassively. “They assured me it would be almost painless.”

Tomaru rasped, but no words would emerge. He clawed at his son, but Meiji knocked his hand way absently. He reached for his sword, but Meiji calmly pushed his father with one hand, knocking the man from his cushion where he writhed helplessly on the floor. The young man watched impassively as his father lay dying on the floor, sipping his tea. When Tomaru ceased doing anything more than breathe shallowly, he dropped his cup to the floor with a crash.

“Guards!” Meiji shouted. “Guards!”

Three Machi-Kanshisha warriors burst into the room, their trademark steel pipes held at the ready. “Call an herbalist!” Meiji commanded. “My father has been poisoned! Search the city for Scorpion saboteurs!”

The guard ran from the teahouse in a blur, and Meiji sat and watched his father die while waiting for help that he knew would be too late.