by Rich Wulf

Ide Tang paged through the sheaf of papers in his lap, reviewing the latest harvest reports from the Ide provinces. The young courtier settled back in his cushioned palanquin with a sigh. For several months, the Ide family had been without a proper daimyo. Tang’s predecessor, Tadaji, had been a truly legendary leader. Even Tang housed the deepest respect for Tadaji’s talent, though his personal philosophies differed greatly. Sadly, the old man’s talent for diplomacy somehow did not extend to ensuring a smooth succession within his own house. The old man had no surviving children and never voiced his preference of any heir.

It was unfortunate that a man as great so deserving as Tadaji had endured such personal tragedy. His wife had died giving birth to their son, the couple’s second child. The young man had shown great promise, but had died during the Clan War like so many other promising young men. Tadaji’s daughter was a gifted administrator like her father, and had overseen Shiro Ide for many years. She had preceded her father in death only by a few years, succumbing to some unknown fever that had robbed her first of her mind, then her life. Tadaji’s responsibilities had denied him the chance to look after his daughter in her final days, and the matter of succession had become a bitter topic that the old man would not even discuss, hence his lack of a declared heir.

Tadaji had held the position for so long that most of those who served under him could not dream of assuming his position. The family continued without decisive leadership for months, until the Khan finally stepped in and promoted Tang to the position. It meant to be a reward for his loyal service, but it hardly felt like one. His home provinces had fallen into financial disorder during the lapse in leadership. From these records, Tang would be surprised if even one farm in ten was paying the proper amount of taxes required. It was unseemly for him to obsess himself with such matters when so many other matters required his attention, especially overseeing the transfer of Ryoko Owari to Scorpion control, but he could not allow the house of Ide to flounder under his leadership.

Tang’s palanquin lurched violently, causing him to fall forward and drop his papers. He swore a few choice words in the Moto tongue as it lurched again, the opposite way. He felt a heavy thud as the heavy litter struck the earth.

“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded, pushing aside the curtains and peering outside of the small carriage. Tang’s rage was quickly dispelled by fear when he found the body of one of his ashigaru bearers laying dead beside the palanquin, arrow protruding from his chest plate. His yojimbo and other three bearers stood with weapons drawn, standing against a four armored ronin bandits wielding katana and hooked steel pipes.

“Back inside, my lord!” his yojimbo called out frantically. “It is not…”The distracted warrior never finished his warning, a pipe colliding heavily with the side of his helmet.

Tang swore. His peasant bodyguards were excellent warriors, but without Idomu’s sword they had no choice against ronin. He snatched up his wakizashi from inside the palanquin, tucked it in his obi, and turned to run. He was a bureaucrat, not a warrior, and would stand no chance against such enemies – but he had memorized their faces, and when the Khan heard of this offense, they would pay.

Or perhaps not. Tang stopped, kicking up a small cloud of snow. The road behind was now blocked by another ronin. He stepped forward, turning his steel pipe in steady circles in his hands.

“Ide Tang-sama,” the man said, his voice calm and even as he kept his eyes on the courtier, oblivious to the peasant warriors being slaughtered beyond. “Why do you run? Do you not realize there is no greater shame, no greater insult to a samurai than to learn his enemy is a coward? I suppose it should not surprise me. Men such as you have little inkling of what such things truly mean.”

“Who are you?” Tang demanded. “If you seek money, I have none to give you. You have made a grave error here, tempting the wrath of…”

“Who are we?” the ronin retorted sharply. The staff stopped spinning, slapping into the man’s palm. “Do you not recognize this weapon, coward?”

Tang frowned. He was unwilling to say anything further, sensing this man was beyond any sense of diplomacy and instead simply seeking an opportunity to brag before killing him. Rather than risk angering the man further, Tang simply remained silent and bided his time.

“This is the weapon of the Machi-Kanshisha,” he snapped. “We were the ronin defenders of Kaeru Toshi for centuries. Your clan was to help us free ourselves from the Lion’s command, return to the way things were. You were the one who started the war, Tang-sama, and you failed to uphold your end of the bargain.”

Tang’s resolve to remain silent quickly eroded. “Bargain?” he snapped. “I made no bargain with you, ronin, and I’m certain my Khan would not do so either. If anyone failed to uphold their word, perhaps you should reflect upon your own obligations to the Lion Clan?”

“The late lord Tomaru made those promises, not me,” the ronin answered. “There are many among our brotherhood who never appreciated the deal he made, and never took the Ikoma name.”

“So you discard and ignore your lord’s commands when they do not please you?” Tang answered. “How glad I am I could be slain by one who knows so much of what it means to be a samurai.”

A scream erupted from behind Tang. He quickly stepped to one side as one of his beaten, bloody peasant guardsman charged toward the ronin leader with his spear held high. The ronin swore and parried the weapon to one side. Tang whispered a brief prayer of thanks for the fanatical loyalty the Khan’s soldiers showed, even among the ashigaru. Taking advantage of the distraction, Tang ran into the woods.

Tang quickly removed his wide haori jacket and tossed it aside. He pulled off his peaked cap and tucked it under one arm as well, so that he could more easily slip through the underbrush. Though his talents lay in the political arena, Tang had been raised a Unicorn and had little doubt he could lose the ronin in these woods. Of course whether he could find his own way out of the wilderness in Scorpion lands again was another matter, but for the moment survival was foremost in his mind. He scrambled on his hands and knees, uncaring for the state of his rich clothing as he sought shelter in the wide roots of an ancient tree. He could hear the curses of the ronin as they followed and the screams of the last of his guardsmen as they fell. It galled Tang to flee from such insignificant enemies, but he consoled him the thought of returning with a platoon of White Guardsmen to hunt these men… and their families.

The sudden bay of a hound resounded through the forest, and Tang heard the clank of armor draw steadily closer. He swore again. Perhaps these men were not complete fools; his meager wilderness skills were not enough to escape hunting dogs. Tang crawled to his feet and began running again.

A strange tinkling sound came from the trees above. Tang looked up as he ran to see a peculiar arrangement of items hanging from the trees. Swords, scraps of armor, even masks hung from the branches, weathered and corroded by time. An uneasy feeling spread through Tang, as he had stepped on his own grave. He had heard of this place. He ran faster.

Through the branches ahead, he saw the tiny pinpoint of a fire. Tang ran toward it. It occurred to him that the fire might be the Kaeru camp, but in the end it did not matter. If the fire belonged to an ally, then he may well be saved. If the fire belonged to an enemy, then he was truly no less doomed than before. Tang emerged into a small clearing. A single man in a shabby brown kimono sat before the fire. He looked up at Tang with dull eyes. He wore the swords of a samurai at his hip.

“Are you the only one here?” Tang asked, looking about desperately. One man against four was troubling odds.

“You are here,” the man said, leering awkwardly. “I am here, you are here, and the dead… they are always here.”

Tang frowned. This man was clearly mad, but Tang could not afford to be choosy about his allies. “I need your help, ronin,” he said, quickly, glancing back toward the sound of the advancing Kaeru. “I am a powerful man, lord of the Ide family. If you save my life, the Khan will reward you well.”

“Reward?” the man asked, staring past Tang with a dazed expression. “There is no reward but duty. There is no fate but death.”

Tang said no more. He only kept running, past the madman and further into the forest. He stopped and looked back at the sound of a bloodcurdling scream. The four Kaeru had entered the stranger’s circle of light. The madman stood now, fists clenched to his sides and head thrown back in a primal scream, head thrown back in a primal scream.

“More mercenaries!” he cried. “More killers! The Legacy hungers and the grass… grows… thirsty!”

The leader of the Kaeru did not hesitate, but ran at the mad ronin with his kanshisha pipe held high. The ronin drew his katana and deflected the pipe and, in the same motion, drew the Kaeru’s wakizashi from his belt and drew it across the man’s stomach, driving it back in with a twist. Blood spurted from the surprised Kaeru’s moth and he fell backward in the snow. The other three men charged the mad ronin at once, but he did not falter. He charged forward with his sword held in both hands. With a savage cleave he cut the first man in half. The next ronin prepared a killing blow but fell to his knees, an arrow protruding from his skull. The final ronin looked up at the trees in shock, then lost his head to the madman’s blade.

He turned then, shoulders still heaving from the rush of battle. His dull eyes met Tang’s, and the courtier felt terrified by the insanity he saw there.

“Money for blood, blood for the Legacy,” the man said with a quavering laugh. “Blood washes the Steel Throne clean!” He fell to his knees, dropping his sword in the snow. Folding his arms across his chest, the ronin curled up on the earth next to the fire and began to quietly sob.

With that a small figure dropped from the trees beside the stranger with a bow in hand. Tang drew back in disgust as he realized it was no human but a Ratling, a rodent-like creature covered in short brown fur. The creature was dressed in a mismatched suit of motley armor. A long knife and a cracked red mask hung from its belt. It studied Tang for a long moment, twitching its long whiskers. Satisfied that he posed no threat it turned, removing the long fur cloak from its shoulders. Wrapping one paw with the blanket, it picked up the ronin’s sword and cleaned it in the snow, sheathed it carefully, and placed it beside the sobbing samurai.

“Sword safe now, Kageki,” the Ratling whispered. It draped the cloak over the man carefully, then turned to look at Tang again. It nocked an arrow and pointed its bow at the courtier.  “Why bring swords here, Unicorn?” the creature asked in a terse voice. “Why bring anger here? Kageki have enough anger.”

“My apologies,” Tang replied, giving a careful bow. “I did not seek this battle. I was attacked on my way through these woods. My yojimbo and servants were killed by these men. I… thank you for the timely rescue.” Tang could not believe he was thanking a Ratling and an unconscious madman, but under the circumstances was merely glad to have survived.

The Ratling grunted thoughtfully. “You run away from fight?” it asked.

Tang did not reply at first. “Yes,” he said cautiously. “I suppose I did.”

“Samurai no run away from fights,” the Ratling said.

“There was no way to win this fight,” he said. “I ran so that I could find friends to kill them.”

“Hm,” the Ratling replied. “You smarter than most samurai Chirtk know, then.” It lowered its bow and put the arrow back in its quiver. “You all right.” It turned and grabbed the nearest corpse by one foot, dragging the dead ronin out of the camp.

“Would you know a safe path out of these woods?” Tang asked the creature. “A path somewhere, anywhere, back to other samurai?”

The Ratling only looked at him suspiciously, pausing in the midst of hauling another dead man out of the camp. Tang noticed that one of the Kanshisa’s smoking pipes was now tucked in the creature’s belt. “Could be,” it said. “Can take you there, but not in dark. Chirtk cannot leave Kageki to dream alone. Sometimes he is hunted in dream. Chirtk be here to save Kageki from things that chase him. And then there be other thing.”

Tang sat down by the fire, regarding the creature curiously. “Other thing?”

“Kageki and Chirtk already help Unicorn,” it answered. “Not help again till Unicorn help back.”

“Very well,” Tang replied. “What are your terms?”

“Help Kageki,” the Nezumi said.
“Help him?” Tang asked.

“Help him find his mind,” the Nezumi answered.

“I think such a feat is beyond me,” Tang said.

“No,” Chirtk shook its head rapidly. “Kageki very close. Chirtk walk with him many yesterdays, since the day he save Chirtk’s life. Kageki is good warrior, noble warrior, but his Name is bound in pain. But Chirtk listen to Kageki’s stories, and begin to see the truth. Hear story of a tower of shadow. Hear story of mask lost and littermates who draw swords on each other. Sad tale, confusing tale, but Chirtk pay attention. Find the clues, find this place. Kageki need to find something here, need to find some truth. Since he come here, Kageki start to be clearer, more himself, but Name is still bound in madness.”

Tang found it personally difficult to believe that this Kageki could have once been more insane than he now was, but did not interrupt.

“Chirtk try but cannot help alone,” it said. “Unicorn help, maybe? Know more about samurai than Chirtk.”

“Kageki,” Tang replied. “ Was this man’s name Bayushi Kageki?”

Chirtk nodded. “All Kageki have left is his sword and his name.”

“Then he is fortunate,” Tang answered, “because his name is one I know. I think I can help you, Ratling.” He pointed at the mask the Ratling carried. “Did you take that mask from this forest?”

“No,” the Ratling said quickly. “Know better than that. Forest is sacred place, cursed place. Know better than to take from here though so much shiny-shiny make it tempting. No, mask is tribal treasure, once owned by grandsire, master scrounger, Snak. Is Kageki’s most prized possession of all.”

Tang produced the peaked courtier’s cap and placed it upon his head. The Ratling’s eyes followed it curiously. “I will trade you your mask for my hat,” he said.

“Done,” Chirtk said without hesitation.

“Excellent,” Tang said. Already a plan was forming in his mind.

Kageki sat cross-legged on the forest floor, oblivious to the chilling snow piled around him, face buried in his hands. This place seemed so familiar to him, but it was all so confused. His world had become nothing but agony, nothing but rage.

“How have I come to this?” he whispered into his hands. “How did they make me into this?”

“Stand up, Kageki,” said a voice from the shadows of the forest.

Kageki looked in that direction, his black eyes blinking fearfully. “Who is there?” he asked. “Your voice is familiar.”

A thin man in robes covered with filth and grime appeared at the edge of vision. He wore a cracked red mask, a Scorpion’s mask.

“Who are you?” Kageki demanded. “Another vision? Another sliver of madness?”

“No,” the man replied. “Just a man. Just a Scorpion. Why do you wander Traitor’s Grove, Kageki?”

“Because I belong here,” he hissed. “My three brothers and father, all of them died in this place. They died because of me.”

“They died because they were traitors, Kageki,” the man said. “They died because they served the Shadowed Tower. I know their tale.”

“Then you know that I was the one who betrayed them!” Kageki shouted. “They sought to indoctrinate me! For a time, what they said made sense… But I was afraid of the Master of Secrets, and for the sake of fear I abandoned my own kin. They turned against me when they learned the truth. I cut down my brothers with my own sword.”

“For the sake of duty,” the other said.

“Call it what you will, I know why I did what I did,” Kageki said. “It is I who deserve to be here, my soul bound in a tree, not them.”

“There is no simple truth,” the stranger said. “No man in Rokugan knows this better than a Scorpion. You were tempted to join the Tower, for loyalty to your family. You were drawn to betray the Tower, for loyalty to your clan. These things are virtues, in the end.”
“Then I will have no more of virtue,” Kageki hissed. “The ghosts haunt me, drive me to madness. They obviously will not rest until I am dead.”

“No, Kageki,” the man replied. “They are restless because they are unavenged. They died for the glory of the Shadowed Tower, yet they were executed for the Tower’s crimes and its leaders remain unscathed.”

“Unscathed?” Kageki said, his eyes suddenly alert, “but Bayushi Atsuki is dead now.”

“When the spirits drive us to do the impossible, the spirit suffers,” the man said. “This is the source of your madness. I think in this case you will find what seems impossible is not so difficult.”

“Tell me more,” Kageki asked.

Ide Tang stood at the edge of Traitor’s Grove, looking back at the eerie haunted forest with a slightly wistful expression. It was not the sort of place any sane man wished to be, but for a time the place had made him feel as he had not in some time. Behind him, down the road, a Scorpion patrol approached. They had sighted Tang’s Unicorn colors already and were galloping toward him, no doubt to question his presence here. Once they saw his papers, no doubt, their manner would swiftly become more polite. The Scorpion treated the family daimyo of their allies very well. The Ratling crouched in the snow nearby.

“Will leave now,” Chirtk said. “Few Scorpion have much use for Nezumi. Go-go back to Kageki, help him find his way home. You help him much, Tang-sama.”

Tang only nodded. One hand rested on the mask he now wore at his belt. He intended to keep it as an heirloom of this strange adventure. “Not nearly as much as you, Chirtk-san,” he replied. “Were it not for you, Kageki might have died in the woods long ago. If you had not listened to his ramblings, I would never have been able to piece together the truth.”

“Strange that member of one tribe should know so much about another,” the Nezumi said.

“Better you not think about it too much, Chirtk,” Tang said in a warning tone. “Some questions have dangerous answers. It was my honor to help a comrade.”

“Unicorn tribe and Scorpion tribe must be good friends for you to lie so much,” the Nezumi said.

“If you say so,” he replied. “Please wish my friend Kageki good luck in his hunt.”

“Chirtk will,” the Nezumi replied. “Good luck to you, too, Tang-sama.” It turned to scamper off into the forest, then looked back for a moment. “Or whatever your name be.”

Then the Nezumi was gone.

The man known as Ide Tang simply waited in the road for the Scorpion soldiers, a faint smile on his face.