The Battle at the Tomb, Part 2
By Shawn Carman
Edited by Fred Wan

Toshi Ranbo, Month of the Hare, year 1167

Under normal circumstances, the Imperial City was often surrounded by impromptu clusters of tents. These were typically set up by pilgrims visiting the city, or occasionally by merchants hoping to capitalize on heavy traffic during certain times of the year. Now, however, there was little incentive to travel throughout the Empire. A great storm of blood had come and washed away innocence. Most cowered in their homes at night, even months afterward, clinging to their families and hoping that the Fortunes would protect them. For the first time in years, there had been virtually no tents outside the city.

Which had made it all the easier for the Shogun’s forces to set up temporary headquarters near the city gates.

Kaneka stood in the largest of several dozen tents, carefully scrutinizing a map and comparing it against a number of scrolls. He frowned and scratched a mark on the map with a length of chalk, then went back to one of the scrolls to continue reading. He heard the tent flap pulled aside, heard the momentary sound of rain outside, before it fell again and the sound receded to a dull rhythm on the cloth overhead. “Not now,” he said reflexively.

“Interesting,” a familiar voice said. “I am not accustomed to hearing such responses to my presence. At least, not recently.”

Kaneka’s head whipped around suddenly. The man standing at the entrance to his tent was wearing a rather nondescript black kimono, but his features were unmistakable. “Emperor,” Kaneka said dully. “Should you be here?”

“Should I not?” Toturi Naseru replied casually.

“You should remain within the palace, where your guard can protect you,” Kaneka said. “You certainly should not be about without adequate protection.”

“Where in the Empire might I go and be more secure than with my Shogun?” the Emperor asked. “Your duty is to defend Rokugan, isn’t it?”

“Of course,” Kaneka said at once. “That was the task you set before me.”

“As I recall, I believe your specific task was to protect against Iuchiban’s threat.” Naseru glanced over the scrolls on Kaneka’s desk casually. “Tell me, how is that progressing?”

Kaneka frowned. “You know he is dead. He spirited away to Otosan Uchi and your… our brother killed him.”

“And now you are here,” Naseru said.

“And now I am here,” Kaneka repeated. “With Iuchiban dead, I have turned my attention to his cult. I assumed you would agree that was a logical progression, but I wanted to make certain I had the opportunity to receive a new mandate if that was your wish.” He gestured in the direction of Toshi Ranbo and smiled. “And so I have come here.”

“As anyone can see,” Naseru said. “My question is why.”

Kaneka gestured to the map and the scrolls. “I have been comparing various magistrate reports from across the Empire, particularly those immediately before and following the Rain of Blood. I am trying to isolate major Bloodspeaker cells so that we can hunt them down. It will be easier now that they seem to have gone mad and become little more than animals, but it will still be difficult.”

“Difficult indeed,” Naseru agreed. “You will use the Imperial Legions, however. This will make the task quicker and easier.”

Kaneka frowned. “The Legions have not trained with my men. It will make coordinating our efforts more complicated.”

“Nonsense,” the Emperor admonished. “Send them out independently. They can operate on their own, and it will dramatically increase the amount of ground you can cover simultaneously.”

The older man nodded. “That is true enough. As you wish, of course, Emperor.”

“Thank you. Upon the completion of your task, return to the Imperial City at once. The people will wish to thank their Shogun for his valor.”

Kaneka smiled slightly. “I would be honored.”

“And I would of course wish to offer you my thanks for following my orders so precisely as well,” the Emperor continued. “Everyone should know of my pleasure with your deeds.”

The smile disappeared. “Of course,” he said. “Everyone should know that I was merely following your orders, after all. That is my duty.”

Naseru looked at his Shogun with an inquisitive expression. “You are the Shogun. I am trusting you and you alone with this task. Does it matter who the people see as responsible for its execution?”

Kaneka forced a smile. “Not to me.”

“Excellent,” Naseru said. “See to it, then.”

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The Imperial Palace, Month of the Ox, year 1167

The personal chambers of Toturi III were expansive, but not as lavish as one might expect, and certainly not so much as previous Emperors. It was as Naseru preferred it, with the only decorations not only beautiful but also having considerable personal significance as well. A stone pedestal given him by his friend Shinjo Shono that bore a copy of Leadership the general Toku had once given his father stood in one corner. An exquisite painting Otomo Hoketuhime had commissioned for him hung on another wall. On another, a mask he had been given at his wedding a short time ago by Bayushi Paneki, the Scorpion Clan Champion and a trusted vassal. Everything had meaning. Everything served a purpose.

“My lord.” The voice was uncharacteristically soft. Naseru turned to the entrance and smiled slightly as the Empress entered with a short bow. “Your mood troubles me.”

“It should not,” Naseru said calmly. “All is well.”

“Your audience with the Jade Champion did not seem to go well,” Toturi Kurako insisted. “You have been withdrawn ever since. Your proclamation of seclusion concerns many, me most of all. It is… unlike you.”

“Perhaps,” the Emperor said. “What does it matter? I am Emperor. Is it not my duty to be a reflection of my Empire?”

“I would say that it is the Empire that must reflect your rule,” Kurako answered.

“Would that not be ideal?” Naseru said, the slightest hint of scorn in his voice. “But if the Empire is a reflection of me, then I have proven a poor ruler indeed.”

“Their failures are not yours,” Kurako insisted.

“Of course they are,” Naseru said flatly. “If an army is defeated on the battlefield, it is the commander that must bear the shame.”

“This is much different,” she insisted.

“It is not,” Naseru said. His tone would brook no dissent. “It is exactly the same. All that troubles the Empire is the burden of its Emperor. Those scattered few who believe otherwise have forgotten all that has happened in the last half century.”

Kurako looked away. She was quiet for a long time. “What will you do?” she finally asked.

Naseru pondered for a moment. “You heard the announcement I made before the court. The so-called ambassador Daigotsu sent is secure for the moment. The Jade Champion’s concerns are valid, but after some deliberation I find them wanting. The Empire has become obsessed with enlightenment, and it seems even those who claim to have achieved it are subject to near hysterics.”

The Empress nodded grimly. “The people are desperate for something to believe in. The Bloodspeakers have them terrified.”

“And the Gozoku used that to further weaken my rule,” Naseru said bitterly. “Between the two, there is much discord. I have grown weary of waiting for it to resolve itself. I will deal with it myself, if my Champions have proven incapable.”

“How?”

“I will seek enlightenment,” Naseru said. “While I am in ‘seclusion,’ I will wander the Empire and see what it is that has led my people to this spiritual reawakening.”

Kurako tilted her head and frowned. “Do you believe you can achieve it in such a manner?”

“That is completely irrelevant,” Naseru said. “What matters is that I will possess the information I require. I will see those who have supposedly achieved enlightenment, and those who seek it still. If I understand their desire, then I can use it.” He glanced at Kurako and smiled. “I do not expect you to understand, my dear, but I will require your assistance.”

She bowed her head. “If I must, my lord. Am I to be the only one?”

“No,” he said after a moment’s thought. “No, I think perhaps one other. A man well versed in the keeping of secrets, after all.”

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The City of the Rich Frog, Month of the Dragon, year 1168

The man simply called the Wanderer sat down heavily in an empty corner of the dark tea house. He nodded wearily to the serving girl, who placed tea and sake before him, along with a small plate of rice and fish. The fish was likely stale, given how far the city was from the nearest major waterway, but he did not particularly care. Traveling, he had discovered, was an excellent cure for the discerning palette.

As he chewed quietly on the simple meal, the Wanderer scanned the room casually, missing nothing. The two men against the opposite wall had the disheveled look of common laborers, but at least one of them had a daisho. They were vassals of the Kaeru, no doubt. Vassals of vassals. Hardly an enviable position, and from the look of them the men had to work long hours at an unpleasant task. Still, they were paid for their labor, and had a steady source of food and shelter. From what he had seen in the past few weeks, they were better off than many. He sipped his tea and watched as a newcomer entered the bar.

The new arrival was a young woman with long black hair. She too wore the trappings of a ronin, but carried herself in such a manner that it was obvious to the Wanderer that she was no simple wave man. She spoke to a serving girl, and in a moment the house’s owner came out to speak with her as well. The Wanderer could not make out their conversation, but from their body language it was easy enough to decipher. The woman had little or no money, and was inquiring after a meal that she could work off in some other manner, perhaps as a yojimbo or something else. The owner was clearly not interested, but the way the sword hung on the woman’s hip gave him pause, and he was struggling to deal with the situation without risking his life.

The Wanderer gave the newcomer another look. The butterscotch-colored stains on her hakama indicated recent travels through the Lion provinces, where mud of such color was common. He grunted and lifted his coin sack, nodding almost imperceptibly at the house’s owner. The man glanced sidelong at him, then bowed to the woman and disappeared back into the kitchen. The female ronin glanced in the Wanderer’s direction, then strode over and bowed slightly. “Thank you,” she said simply.

“My pleasure,” the Wanderer replied, impressed that she had so quickly and accurately assessed what had happened. “Sit and join me.”

The woman did not move. “Do not mistake gratitude for something else,” she said. “My companionship is not for sale.”

“I merely wanted conversation,” the Wanderer shrugged. “You can find your meal elsewhere if you like. There are no obligations other than a shared meal and tea.”

The woman hesitated, then bowed again. “My thanks,” she said, taking her seat. “It has been some time since I was able to enjoy a quiet meal.”

The Wanderer nodded and poured a second cup of tea. “Did you find the Lion lands unpleasant, then?”

The woman’s eyes narrowed. “You know me, then?” she asked quietly.

The Wanderer shrugged. “No,” he said casually. “You were in Lion lands, however, were you not?”

“I was,” she confirmed. “What of it?”

The Wanderer pushed his plate away. “I grow weary of this defensiveness. If your training was utterly devoid of common courtesy, then you can enjoy the remainder of your meal in silence.” He started to rise.

“I am sorry,” the woman said quietly. “It was not my intent to offend. I have… had a difficult journey.”

The Wanderer slowly sat back down. “That much I can understand.” He pointed to her blade. “You wear your blade in the Shiba style. I merely noted that the Lion lands are between here and there, therefore you must have traveled through them.”

“Of course,” she said. “I am Nagisa. I am on a warrior pilgrimage, and I did travel through the Lion lands. I wished to avoid them, but the battle along their northern border required that I drop within their provinces to travel.”

The Wanderer nodded in assent. “I’m sure they were quite hospitable.”

“Of course,” Nagisa said curtly. “I imagine I won’t be able to go back any time soon.”

“I have spent the past few weeks in the northern Shinomen,” the Wanderer said. “Any interesting news from the Lion lands?”

“The war is all most talk about,” Nagisa said, eating her rice with gusto. “Some say the Unicorn may take part soon, and then it will be the War of the Rich Frog all over again, except with the Crane as well.”

“Shinsei said that history was a cycle,” the Wanderer said. “Still, that news hardly seems of interest. The clans are always at one another’s throats, it seems.”

“True enough,” Nagisa agreed. “There have been interesting rumors of the Imperial Court, however.”

“Oh?” The Wanderer munched a piece of fish, seeming disinterested.

“They say the Lost sent an ambassador to the court, and that the Emperor ordered the Scorpion to hold him. They also say that the Emperor was so enraged that he has gone into seclusion at the advice of the Jade Champion, lest he pit the entire Empire against the Shadowlands in a war that cannot be won.”

“Interesting,” the Wanderer mused. “This is what is being said in the Lion lands, is it?”

“It is,” Nagisa confirmed, beginning a second bowl of rice. “There are similar rumors in the Crane lands, although I heard some their claim that the Jade Champion kept the Emperor from accepting some proposal the Lost offered, and that he has gone into seclusion to contemplate his error in judgment.” She thought for a moment. “I found the very idea blasphemous, to be honest.”

“Typical,” the Wanderer muttered under his breath. “You are a supporter of the Emperor, then?”

“Of course,” Nagisa answered at once. “The reign of his father was ordained by the heavens. He is the Son of Heaven.”

“I imagined the heavens might be more infallible,” the Wanderer offered.

Nagisa paused, her chopsticks halfway to her mouth. “Heaven’s blessing does not make a man infallible,” she replied. “Nothing mortal, or that was once mortal, lasts forever.”

“Interesting,” the Wanderer said, raising an eyebrow. “What brought you to this conclusion?”

“Fortunes died fighting Fu Leng,” she said. “Emperors have made mistakes, one need look no farther than the Steel Chrysanthemum to see that. Even Lord Moon was duped by the Lying Darkness. There is no perfection. There is no infallibility. We do what we can. Why should the gods be any different?”

“Perhaps,” he mused, idly rubbing the tattoo covering his eye. Sometimes it burned worse than usual. He had no idea why. “Certainly it is an interesting philosophy if nothing else. Have you shared it with others?”

Nagisa smirked slightly. “Not many. Most samurai are too set in their ways to hear anything that disagrees with their preconceived notions. I find fellow wanderers to be a bit more… flexible… in their outlook.”

“Surely someone has found it to their liking,” the Wanderer pressed.

“There was an old courtier in the Crane lands,” Nagisa admitted after a moment of thought. “I think he may have just been agreeing in hopes of making me more agreeable to his advances, however. He was quite the lecher.”

“I have heard that about old Crane,” the Wanderer said with a smile. “Do you recall his name?”

“Munemori, I think,” Nagisa said. “Of the Kakita. Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” the Wanderer said. “Just useful information for later, should I ever be in the Crane provinces. Open minds are always beneficial, do you not think?”

“I suppose,” Nagisa agreed.

The Wanderer rose. “Please, enjoy your meal. I have a message to send to an old acquaintance, and then I must be off again. It was a pleasure to meet you, Nagisa-san. Perhaps we will speak again.”

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Deep within the Shadowlands

Naseru stood atop a jagged outcropping of volcanic glass, perched precariously on a flat stop amid the forest of razor-sharp blades of stone that jutted out at every possible angle. He wiped the sweat from his brow with one ragged sleeve. In the plains unfolding beneath him, he could make out the indistinct form of a great tomb carved into the side of a strangely ordinary rock abutment. It had lain hidden for more than a thousand years, but now he had found his way here.

Naseru took a tattered scroll from his obi and glanced at it one last time. He had discovered it within the Shinomen. Even now, the thought made him frown. A rumor had led him into the forest, a rumor concerning an ancient shrine and a kenku sensei that held the secrets of enlightenment. He had not believed them, of course, but the chance that it could have been true was too great to pass up. If such a thing had existed, if the rumors had been true, then evidence of his visit to such a place would have been all the proof he needed to convince others that his “pilgrimage” had been successful. Instead, he had discovered the scroll.

The seal had borne his name. It had been left for him.

The Emperor could not decide if he was more irritated that someone, almost certainly Rosoku, could have so accurately predicted his actions, or if he was merely alarmed that everything Rosoku had said could be true. In all honesty, Naseru had never truly believed in enlightenment. It was nothing more than the pinnacle of self-delusion, or possibly a claim to be used to manipulate the gullible. He had looked into Rosoku’s eyes and seen nothing more than a mortal man that desperately believed he could help save the Empire. He had looked into Asahina Sekawa’s eyes and known that his claim to enlightenment was false.

Now, at the end of a long journey, guided by a mysterious scroll, he wondered. Could it all have been true? Could Rosoku’s gifts truly have an impact on what happened to Rokugan? Was there something within the Tomb that could guide him to the path that would lead his Empire to salvation?

Naseru did not know the answers. He only knew that he must seek them.

His quest had begun like so many things during his life: a manipulation. A ruse to restore the faith of those whose belief in him had been broken. Now… it was something more. He did not know what lay within the Tomb, he only knew now, at the final step, that Rosoku had meant for him to find it.

Naseru climbed down from the rock outcropping and began to cross the last few miles to the Tomb of Seven Thunders. Destiny waited within.

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