By Shawn Carman

The Imperial Court, Toshi Ranbo

The arrival of Hida Kisada, the Great Bear of legend, could not have come at a worse time. With the clans at one another’s throats in a more savage manner than any time since the Clan War, Kisada’s arrival with an emissary of the Lost demanding judgment from the Jade Champion had inflamed a room full of men and women who had already been on edge. Even as they exclaimed their disgust for the man named Daigotsu Soetsu, and not a few for Kisada himself, Asahina Sekawa could see and hear some of them turning to one another with accusations. It was truly a marvel of the human mind that a completely random and unexpected event, even one clearly enacted solely by a controversial figure, could be blamed on one’s enemies. There were many days, more and more in recent weeks, when Sekawa could not help but wonder: if his achieving enlightenment had been a lie, as he believed, then why could others not see that they walked the path to destruction, as he did? There had been many dark times for Rokugan since he had become the Jade Champion, and yet none had filled him with so much dread and fear as the idea of samurai so consumed with petty jealously and hatred for one another.

“Enough.”

A single harsh word from the Emperor silenced the entire chamber. Even those who had been shouting drew back as Toturi’s simple admonishment carried throughout the chamber’s every nook and cranny, just as the Kaiu engineers who designed the room had intended. The look of blazing anger on his face was enough to cow even the Lost samurai that stood among them, and Kisada himself lowered his eyes. “I will not have my court made a mockery,” the Emperor said quietly. His tone was low and dangerous. Every trace of the indulgence and amusement it had conveyed only a moment ago was gone. Toturi Naseru fixed Soetsu with a baleful stare, clearly prepared to pass judgment.

Sekawa stepped in between the two men. “My Emperor,” he said, his voice just above a whisper. “I would speak with you in private, if I may.”

For a moment, Sekawa felt the Emperor’s wrath wash over him like the tide. “What is it you wish, Sekawa? My patience has already been exhausted.”

“Please forgive me, Emperor,” the Jade Champion said, “but only a short time ago you asked me to counsel you in all things. I only seek to serve you. Your judgment in this matter is forthcoming, and all your subjects are eager to see your will done. I only hope to aid you, both as your Jade Champion and as Keeper of the Five Elements, as you have asked me to do.”

The Emperor’s jaw was set, his mouth little more than a fine line. For several long moments he said nothing, then nodded almost imperceptibly. “Greater and wiser men than I have ignored the advice of prophets and sages,” he said, “and have suffered for it.” He gestured to the guards at the door. “No one may take their leave until my return,” he said, and then turned and walked to the doorway to his private chambers, his extravagant robes swirling behind him.

Sekawa exhaled shakily, then nodded to his colleague among the Crane, who fell in behind him as he followed the Emperor. The crowd parted for the three men silently, no one daring to utter so much as a single word until the Emperor stepped through the threshold and into his private chambers. They were not as lavishly appointed as one might expect, Sekawa noticed, but then these were merely the rooms the Emperor used when seeking a moment’s reprieve from the tedium of court. Given their relatively infrequent use and the Emperor’s disdain for needless extravagance, perhaps that was to be expected.

Naseru dismissed the surprised servants with an absent wave of his hand, then poured a cup of tea as the door closed behind them. “I trust you have good reason for bringing a harrier into my chambers without my permission, Sekawa,” he said.

Sekawa stopped in his tracks, blinking in surprise. “Harrier?”

Naseru glanced over his shoulder at Sekawa and the other Crane. His look of smoldering anger was gone, replaced by what might be disappointment. “Is this where you insist you don’t know what the harriers are? Because that would imply either that the Asahina daimyo is too unimportant to be informed, or that you are lying to me.”

“Never, my lord,” Sekawa said quickly. “It is only… I was unaware that you were familiar with that… organization. Also, this man is not a harrier, strictly speaking.”

“Daidoji Fumisato,” Naseru said, glancing at the other man. “That is your name, is it not?”

“No,” the Crane said flatly.

“Of course not,” Naseru continued. “Because Fumisato died six months ago. And yet you have been attending my court, using his name and acting as Kikaze’s proxy, a position that traditionally has absolutely no purpose in court at all whatsoever, ensuring you have had ample time to observe with no responsibilities.” He finished the tea and sat the cup down heavily. “I must confess the mystery of your identity has kept me entertained for some time.”

“You knew, then.” The old Crane nodded. “Yet you did nothing? I could have been an assassin. There have been many times when I was close enough to you that your guards could not have stopped me.”

“What are you saying?” Sekawa demanded, his expression one of shock. “Silence your disrespect at once!”

Naseru waved his hand, much as he had done with the servants. “If you believe that I am protected by guards alone, or indeed that there are not measures to ensure that you cannot touch me even as we stand alone in this chamber, then you are a fool.”

The old Crane said nothing for a moment then chuckled darkly. “Perhaps you are your father’s son after all.”

For the first time, Sekawa saw a glint of surprise in the Emperor’s eye. “What do you know of my father?” he said.

“Please, my lord,” the Jade Champion said, “all will be made clear in a moment. But first we must discuss the matter before the court, I beg you.”

“Yes, let us do that.” The Emperor sat down on a large cushion and gestured for the two Crane to sit. “I am extremely interested in why you wish to counsel me in accepting a proposal from the Lost.” He almost spat the last word. “I would have expected better from a Jade Champion.”

Sekawa resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands. “It is not a recommendation I make lightly, my lord. How is it you knew my intention?”

“I should think it was obvious what my judgment would have been,” Naseru said. “Why else would you interrupt me unless to attempt to change my mind?” He paused for a moment to regard Sekawa earnestly. “I presume you understand the futility of what you are about to attempt?”

“I can only counsel my Emperor as I have been commanded.”

Naseru nodded. “Then do so and be done with it.”

Sekawa drew a deep breath. “You know that since I found the last of Rosoku’s books, I have struggled to understand the balance between all things. Fire, Air, Earth, Water, and Void make up all things. When those elements are in perfect balance, something wondrous happens. They achieve purity, such as that found in crystal and jade.”

“Substances which harm the Lost,” Naseru said. “Ample evidence that they exist outside of the natural balance.”

“Perhaps so,” Sekawa conceded, “but that does not mean that there is not a role for them to place in the Celestial Order.”

The Emperor shook his head. “That may well be the most blasphemous thing I have ever heard uttered by a priest,” he said. “I must confess I have begun to question your abilities as Jade Champion, Sekawa.”

“There have been times when the Shadowlands have been driven to submission in the past,” Sekawa continued, unbothered. “Centuries ago, the Shadowlands had lain quiet for decades on end, then the Hiruma lands were suddenly overrun. After that, they were dormant again, and then during the Clan War they erupted into activity, nearly destroying everything. Again after that, they lay quiet until Daigotsu arrived and galvanized them.”

“There is a cycle,” Naseru said. “There always has been, and there always shall be. Nothing can change that.”

“No!” Sekawa said vehemently, driving his fist into his open palm. “In each revolution of the cycle, the Empire grows unbalanced! Mankind struggles against its own weaknesses! We fight, we hate, and we die when there is no need. We kill one another for nothing!” He stopped, realizing he was nearly shouting. The Jade Champion drew a deep breath, then continued. “The line of Shinsei is all that has been able to bring us back from the brink of certain destruction on two separate occasions. Without Shinsei, we would have defeated ourselves, and the darkness would have completely overwhelmed us. Now, less than a century after the last Day of Thunder, we are already on the brink of complete war with one another, and this time there will be no Shinsei to save us should the darkness grow out of control while we hold steel at one another’s throats.”

“Rosoku is gone,” Naseru nodded, “but we have the Keepers.”

Sekawa shook his head. “You cannot possibly compare me, or the others, to Shinsei. Perhaps in the fullness of time, when my life is at its end, I might grasp a tiny fraction of the wisdom that was his by birthright. No more than that.”

“Then there is no hope,” Naseru said, “and my decision means nothing.”

“It means nothing only if you decide it does,” Sekawa said. “You are the Emperor, the Son of Heaven. Your reign is embraced by the forces of Tengoku. You and you alone have the power to stop all this.”

“And how might I do that?”

“I do not know,” Sekawa confessed. “My path is not yours.”

Naseru rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “You are asking me to achieve an impossible task that you cannot explain, and to embrace a foe that I have sworn to destroy for the good of all men, for no reason.” He shook his head. “Your counsel has always been dependable, but this… it is too much. You are asking me to take too great a risk.”

“I am asking you to have faith,” Sekawa said.

“How can accepting Daigotsu’s proposal possibly aid us in this?” Naseru asked.

“It cannot,” the other Crane said. “It can only delay them, hopefully long enough to achieve that which Sekawa describes.”

“I have no interest in speaking with a phantom,” Naseru said.

The old Crane laughed, then reached up to remove his mask. His features were weathered and criss-crossed with tiny scars. He removed his jingasa to reveal steel gray hair, cropped close and uneven in places where scars marred his scalp. “I suppose that helps little,” he said in his gravely voice.

Naseru frowned. “It does not,” he said.

“My lord Emperor, this will make little sense,” Sekawa said cautiously, “but this man… is not entirely a man.” He ignored the irritable look from the other Crane and continued. “He came to Rokugan through a spirit portal, one that led to the Realm of Thwarted Destiny, and from there to the most distant reaches of Yume-do.”

“The Realm of Dreams?” Naseru looked at him curiously. “You are a baku, then? A dream spirit?”

The old man snarled fiercely. “Apparently,” he spat.

“The dream from which he comes is one brought into being by the angry regrets of a god,” Sekawa said. “Somehow, after his defeat by your father, Fu Leng brought this realm into existence, where he could witness the reality that would have been created had he been victorious at the Day of Thunder. It was a twisted vision of Rokugan, one plunged into a thousand years of darkness. And it is from that realm that this man, Daidoji Uji, came. He has taught me much of the importance of maintaining balance.”

“Daidoji Uji?” Naseru said, his expression reflecting a rare moment of genuine surprise. “The Iron Crane? You are a dream of the Iron Crane?”

Uji said nothing, looking away with an expression of fury and anguish.

“He remembers everything from his childhood through the moment he left the realm of his birth,” Sekawa said quietly. “Up until the Day of Thunder, the Day of Thunder that this man and the other denizens of that realm witnessed, he was identical to the Uji of our history in every possible way.”

“Save that he is a spirit.” Naseru said.

“Stop saying that, please.” Uji hissed. He had clearly added please as an afterthought.

“Everything about him is human,” Sekawa said. “Every spell, every ritual, everything that the Asahina have at their disposal indicates he is a mortal man.” He held his hand out, palms up. “I cannot explain it, my lord. No one can.”

“Created by a god, just as the first men were.” Naseru’s voice grew quiet. “You must have seen terrible things.”

“You cannot possibly imagine,” Uji said. “I have seen the balance Sekawa speaks of destroyed. If you have any love for your subjects, any trace of compassion whatsoever, you will not permit the balance to be broken.”

“Unbelievable,” Naseru said. “You, of all people, would counsel me to accept this profane petition? You, who should desire the destruction of Daigotsu and his Lost more than any other?”

“I would tear out Fu Leng’s throat with my bare hands and bathe in his blood as he died if I could!” Uji swore, spittle spraying from his mouth in his fury. “I would slaughter every living and dead thing beyond the Kaiu Wall! I would become a monster the likes of which you cannot conceive, if I could!” He stopped, wiping his face with a shaking hand. “But I cannot. And so I can only say to you, whatever you must do to prevent the Shadowlands from waging their war against the Empire, even if only for long enough to re-establish the line of Shinsei, do it. No matter how blasphemous it may seem.”

The Emperor reclined on his cushion. In that moment, he looked more exhausted than Sekawa had ever seen. “You ask too much.”

“It was not too much for your brother,” Uji said flatly. “It was not too much for the Kaneka that I knew.”

“We ask only what the first Hantei commanded of all his successors,” Sekawa said. “Only to protect the Empire and all its people.”

“Only the world, and everything in it,” Naseru said quietly.

It was nearly an hour after Sekawa and the re-masked Uji returned to the Imperial Court chamber before the Emperor finally returned. The situation was no better than Sekawa had imagined it would be. Bayushi Paneki was in consultation with the Imperial Chancellor, Bayushi Kaukatsu, who occasionally levied inscrutable looks toward the obviously uncaring Hida Kisada and his captive. The representatives of the Phoenix and the Mantis had returned to their heated bickering, and there was still no apparent headway being made between the Lion and Unicorn. For a moment, Sekawa wondered if anything he and the Emperor had discussed could possibly make a difference in such a climate.

A hush fell over the chamber as Toturi Naseru returned to his court, looking extremely tired. He stood on the dais and regarded his subjects silently for several moments. “Hida Kisada,” he finally said, his voice somewhat subdued.

“My Emperor.” Kisada bowed deeply.

“You have brought this man, an enemy of my Empire, into the presence of the Imperial Court without warning or permission. You did this as part of your duty to your Emperor, and, I suspect, to demonstrate to your enemies that you are an exceptionally dangerous man whose enmity should not be taken lightly.”

Kisada glanced almost imperceptibly at Paneki. “Yes, my Emperor.”

“I trust in your loyalty, Kisada. I trust in you as my father did, as an ally, and a friend. And yet I cannot deny that you willfully misinterpreted the letter of my law to make a point, and in doing so have risked the welfare of my court.”

“Foolish and impetuous, my lord,” Kisada admitted. “I allowed my zeal for confronting my enemies to overcome all sense of reason. I gladly offer my life in atonement for my failure.”

“Failure? Perhaps,” Naseru said, “but it is a small failure, in the grand scheme of things. Nevertheless, you are banished from the Imperial City, and may not return on pain of death unless I summon you hence.”

“Yes, my Emperor.” Sekawa thought he saw a glimmer of respect in Kisada’s eyes as the great man rose and gestured for his Crab soldiers to escort Soetsu from the chamber.

“Hold.”

All eyes turned back to the Emperor. “My lord?” Kisada asked.

The Emperor stepped down and walked among his courtiers. “Since Rosoku’s return, there are those among us and throughout the Empire who have sought out his riddles, his puzzles, and in doing so have found that most elusive of prizes. Enlightenment.” He smiled at the Crane delegation, turning to the Dragon as well. “These men and women understand the world in a way that I cannot. So I must ask myself, when they counsel me to act in a manner that I find unusual, how am I to truly know what is the path I should take? The Son of Heaven I may be, but I am still a mortal man, flawed and in some ways uncertain from time to time.”

Sekawa drew a deep breath and waited.

“The time has come for me to withdraw from these proceedings and meditate upon the mysteries of enlightenment,” the Emperor continued. “Until such time, I cannot offer my judgment on this… man’s petition.” He gestured at Soetsu. “I shall retire to my private chambers, where I will not be disturbed. I will see no one save the Empress, who shall oversee this court in my absence. However long I remain secluded, be it days, weeks, or even months, I am not to be disturbed. Until that time, Daigotsu Soetsu will remain under the care of the Scorpion Clan.”

“As you command,” Paneki said at once. His reply was soft, almost masked by the whispering chorus of fans sliding open to cover the shocked expressions of other courtiers.

“My advisor, Doji Tanitsu, is already in Scorpion lands on unrelated business,” Naseru said. He held out a scroll. “Tanitsu shall conduct all interviews with this Soetsu, and shall act with my full authority in this matter until I return.”

Paneki stepped forward and took the scroll with a sharp bow.

The Emperor stood on his dais and gestured to the Empress, who rose and stood by his side as he prepared to leave the chamber. “These are dark and unusual times, my friends,” he said before leaving. “We must all find strengths to endure, and whatever sacrifices I must make to protect you all, I will gladly do in the name of my father, and of the Empire he saved.” As the Emperor left the court chamber, Sekawa barely suppressed a fierce grin.

Hope was not yet gone from the Empire.