For a while, at least, she had enjoyed the time she spent in the Imperial City, Isawa Kyoko reflected. She had been stationed her as an attendant to various individuals in her family for nearly a year, and for most of that time it had been a wonderful experience. Now that it seemed that time was at an end, it only made her appreciate it more, and she found herself looking back wistfully more and more often.

The mood in the Toshi Ranbo could, at present, best be described as tense. The Lion Clan had re-established their hold in the city, and while it was in the courts that their presence was not notable, it seemed that every day there were more and more of their bushi standing guard at various important sites throughout the city. Their own holdings were closely guarded, of course, but they had gone on to offer additional forces to secure all Imperial holdings as well as many locations important to their allies, the Crane. With the Crane pre-occupied with the conflict taking place in the Yasuki lands, it seemed the Lion intended to offer as much support as possible. Under different circumstances, Kyoko would find their devotion admirable. Unfortunately, the way the Lion had gone about their duties made it difficult to find anything admirable about it: the Phoenix Clan had been sharing sentry duty with the Seppun family on all Imperial locations, and the Lion had simply begun to send their own personnel any time that the Phoenix were supposed to be present. The entire situation had become uncomfortable and potentially explosive, so much so that the Phoenix had quietly arranged to remove their sentries and allow the Seppun and Lion to guard them exclusively.

It was all spectacularly childish, Kyoko had decided. She was disgusted that anyone would behave in such a manner, much less the so-called Right Hand of the Emperor. And in the Imperial City no less! Shameful. Sadly, it seemed, there was no one to blame for the entire affair save those within her own clan. It pained her to think that the Phoenix could be responsible for allowing what had been a glorious age of peace and security for the city to come to an end, but it seemed that was exactly what had happened. As she wound through the endless corridors of the Imperial Palace, or rather the portion of the Imperial Palace that was still in use, she reflected on what that might mean over the course of a longer period of time.

The chamber Kyoko entered was already milling with dozens of samurai and shugenja, the vast majority of whom bore Phoenix colors. There were a handful of samurai from the Imperial families present, primarily representatives from the Otomo contingent and their Seppun bodyguards, but for the most part this was an affair restricted to the clan.

“Kyoko!”

She turned toward the voice and smiled at the young man walking toward her. His own smile was broad, which was pleasant because he smiled so rarely. “Takesi-san,” she said with a short bow. She glanced around the room. “I did not expect so many!”

He nodded. “The Masters took no steps to conceal the matter, but neither did they make it widely known. I suppose rumor is the greatest product of the Imperial City, as my mother used to say.” He glanced at her curiously. “I am surprised that you came,” he said. “This does not seem the sort of thing that would be of interest to you.”

Kyoko opened her fan and used it to cool herself. “I need to see what happens,” she admitted. “I have to know if all that we have done here has meant anything.”

Takesi’s face twisted in an expression that looked something like an aborted wince, but he nodded regardless. “I think that there are many who are not pleased,” he said. “I fear the worst.”

Kyoko began to reply but stopped as the shoji screens near the rear of the chamber slid open quietly and four figures stepped through, led by a petite woman who looked no older than Kyoko, but whom she knew was nearly twice her age. “Hello, friends,” the little woman said quietly, bringing the chamber to complete silence. “We thank you for your interest in this matter, but we must ask you to remain unobtrusive.” Isawa Ochiai scanned the room for a moment as the assembled onlookers retreated toward the chamber walls, leaving a large open space before the dais. “Shiba Naoya.”

A lone figure stepped forward. The man was clad in simple robes that indicated his rank in the Shiba armies, but which lacked the elaborate patterns favored by many of the Isawa. It was, Kyoko thought, the robe of a man who valued practicality, for whom function was more important than form. She glanced down at the intricate pattern on her own robes and reddened slightly. “Yes, my lady,” Naoya said, kneeling before the assembled Elemental Masters.

“Naoya-san,” Ochiai began, “the Council of Elemental Masters has summoned you before us that you might explain the incident that took place some weeks ago, wherein Phoenix forces under your command allowed the Lion re-entry into the Imperial City. This was in direct violation of an edict issues by this Council, and has resulted in numerous complications. We wish to allow you to speak on your behalf.”

“The Council is gracious in allowing me to do so,” Naoya said, “but I will willingly accept any judgment you choose to pass, should you desire to do so without my testimony.”

Ochiai raised one hand and smiled slightly. “This Council chooses to hear your testimony first, in recognition of your outstanding service up until the incident in question.” She paused and looked at a scroll offered by an attendant. “According to your official report, the Lion demanded entrance, which you initially refused. Is this correct?”

“It is, my lady.”

“Why did you refuse it?”

Naoya lifted his head. “I had been ordered to keep the Lion and Mantis from the city, Lady Ochiai,” he said.

“And yet, later in this same report,” the Master of Fire continued, “you acquiesced to their demand.” She shook her head. “I do not understand. You clearly demonstrated your knowledge of and intention to adhere to your orders, and then suddenly and without apparent reason reversed your decision.” She glanced at the other Masters. “This troubles us greatly, Naoya.”

“As it must, my lady.”

“Is it your intention to offer no defense of your actions?” Shiba Ningen stepped forward, his face troubled. “You are an exceptional officer, taisa. It is not the desire of this Council to lose the service of so valuable a vassal. And yet, if you will not offer an explanation, what are we to think? What outcome can we possibly reach? On the surface, this appears to be a grotesque failure of your duty. No one here believes you capable of such a thing, and yet you will not offer your explanation. Why?”

Naoya bowed his head again. “It is not the place of a vassal to explain his failures, my lord,” he said. “I only await my punishment.”

“You leave us little choice, my friend,” Asako Bairei said softly, his voice heavy.

“If he will not defend himself, then I will speak for him.” The voice was soft, almost musical, but held an edge that was obvious to all who heard it. Kyoko looked around the room in surprise, trying to locate the speaker. A woman had stepped from the crowd. She was breathtakingly beautiful despite that she appeared to care little for her appearance. She wore the same manner of simple clothing that Naoya did, and after a moment Kyoko realized with a shock that it was Shiba Tsukimi, the well-known commander in the Shiba armies. She had never seen Tsukimi without her armor.

“Tsukimi-san,” Tamori Nakamuro said with a bow. “Under different circumstances this Council would welcome the comments of so decorated an officer, but this is not a matter for public discussion.”

“This is hardly a public discussion,” Tsukimi replied. “Your questions, as well as Naoya’s deference, are the heart of the relationship between the Isawa and the Shiba, and as such it is my duty to intervene.”

“Your duty?” Ochiai’s tone was both curious and cautionary. “How so?”

Tsukimi’s mouth was set in a grim line. “I have remained silent for too long,” she admitted. “I hoped to take stock of all that the Phoenix are, and what we might be, before I revealed myself. Perhaps that was foolishness, or perhaps I was merely being selfish. Regardless, it does not matter now. It is my duty to speak to this matter because I am the Phoenix Clan Champion.”

A murmur rippled through the room. Takesi whispered something in Kyoko’s ear but she shushed him, intent on hearing what happened next. “It is my understanding that Master Ningen assessed you early on in his search,” Ochiai was saying over the whispers. “It was his contention that you are not, in fact, the Phoenix Champion.”

“With all due respect,” Tsukimi answered, inclining her head politely, “Lord Ningen, while incredibly skilled and powerful, does not have the wisdom of eleven centuries, as the soul of Shiba does. His perception was not flawed, it is simply that if the soul of Shiba does not wish to be detected, it will not be.”

“That is a most curious claim,” Bairei said, one eyebrow raised.

Tsukimi bowed. “Council, you may acknowledge me or not as you please. I am the Phoenix Champion regardless.”

“She speaks the truth,” Shiba Ningen said. The Master of the Void’s expression was as inscrutable as ever. “She bears the soul. She is the Champion.”

“Then this Council rejoices to have the rightful Phoenix Clan Champion among us once again,” Ochiai said, her smile both genuine and welcoming. “I am not convinced, however, that it is relevant to the matter at hand.”

“You are not a military mind, my lady,” Tsukimi said. “Answer me this if you will: would you ever knowingly order another to sacrifice their honor for the good of the clan?”

“No,” Ochiai answered. “Once, perhaps, I might have, but no more. The Phoenix must be greater than that. We must each rise above such things. I would never ask such a thing of another, and I do not believe that my fellow Masters would either.”

“That is fortunate,” Tsukimi said. “The Shiba, however, require no such command. It is our duty, our charge, to give all that we have, even our honor if need be, for the Phoenix. That is what Naoya did. Your concerns, the concerns of all our people, are misplaced. The Shiba understand.”

Ochiai shook her head. “The Shiba might, but we do not.”

“Does anyone among you believe that the Lion diplomats who entered the city with Matsu Kenji were not skilled combatants? Courtiers and poets, historians and artisans, perhaps, but Lion all the same, were they not?”

“I do not doubt that,” the Master of Void answered.

“And do you doubt that, had Naoya refused to allow them entry, that Matsu Kenji would have attacked? We speak of the Matsu. Honorable folk, yes, but aggressive to a fault, and eager to interpret the smallest infraction as a slight on their honor. They would have attacked Naoya and his men. I know that without question.”

“I believe that you are most likely correct,” Ochiai said. “However…”

Tsukimi held up a hand. “Please, my lady. Allow me to continue.” She paused for a moment. “The outcome would have been certain: Kenji would have attacked, and her troops would have fought to the last man. The Lion would take this as a challenge to their duty, and a slight upon their honor, and would have escalated the conflict. The Lion would have decimated the city in defense of their right to protect it.”

Nakamuro nodded. “It is their way,” he admitted.

“Now, by Naoya’s actions, they are obligated not only to protect the city, but to preserve the peace — an oath the Lion would never have given freely. Further, because the Crane interceded upon their behalf, both Clans have received a favor from the Phoenix. The Lion are now in a position where they must support our position, if for different reasons, and cannot engage in the same manner of behavior as prompted their expulsion without sacrificing their honor.”

The Masters looked at one another for a moment. “Perhaps we have not given the matter the consideration it deserves,” Ochiai admitted.

“What Naoya did is no less than what our ancestor Shiba did over a thousand years ago,” Tsukimi added. “He bent his knee to the weight of duty.”

Ochiai bowed her head sadly. “We thank you for your sacrifice, Naoya, but the Council would never have asked such a thing of you.”

“I know,” Naoya answered. “It was needed nonetheless.”

“Regardless,” she continued, “this spectacle has become unfortunately public. If there is not some measure of redress for your actions, the Phoenix will lose face in the eyes of the other clans.”

“Unacceptable,” Naoya said at once.

“Agreed,” Tsukimi echoed. “I think clearly he should be punished. Perhaps, my lady, he should be removed from his position as acting daimyo of the Shiba and commander of their armies?”

Ochiai smiled ever so slightly. “That would be suitable, I think. As rightful Champion, you will, of course, assume those duties in his place.” Ochiai turned to the other Masters, who each nodded in turn. “Then it is decided. Your punishment is set, Shiba Naoya. Rise and accept it with the honor and discipline you have always shown us.”

“Hai, my lady.”

Ochiai paused for a moment, then smiled more broadly. “It is good to have you among us, Tsukimi-sama.”

“Thank you, Ochiai-sama.”

“It is very unlikely,” Takesi agreed.

“I was concerned that Ochiai would react poorly to Tsukimi’s revelation,” Kyoko admitted. “I suppose that was foolish. She is not the harsh figure that so many Masters of Fire before her have been.”

“Particularly since her wedding,” Takesi added. “I have seen her and her husband in the gardens together many times in the evening. Her happiness is obvious to all.”

Kyoko smiled. “It was a lovely ceremony, was it not?”

Takesi smiled and stopped, lifting one hand to brush a lock of hair from her face. “It was,” he said quietly. “Ours could be as lovely, you know.”

“No,” Kyoko said, pulling away from him. She did not wish him to touch her, for she knew all too well how his touch affected her. “That can never be. You know that.”

“Why not?” Takesi demanded. “Why can we not work toward it?”

“Your petition was refused,” she said firmly. “The matter is at an end. We are not to wed.”

“In time they will change their minds,” he insisted. “I know it.”

“Then do not speak to me of it until that time,” she said. “I cannot bear it.” The conversation had distracted her, and as the two entered the temple, the suddenly found themselves in the main chamber, which was empty save for their sensei, who was speaking to a trio of other Phoenix. The others looked at the two young shugenja as if they were unwelcome, although their sensei’s face was as warm as ever. “Oh,” she said. “Please forgive us, my lords, we did not mean to intrude.” She turned to leave at once, tugging at Takesi’s sleeve.

“No, wait,” her sensei said. He gestured for them to step forward. “I had hoped to speak to the two of you about this later. Now you will spare an old man the strain of remembering something that long.”

One of the three others, a small bald man whose robes bore the mark of the Brotherhood of Shinsei as well as the Phoenix Clan, frowned slightly. “Are you certain this is wise, Sawao?”

Isawa Sawao tilted his head to the side ever so slightly. “You requested my aid in this matter, Juro-san. If you wish me to provide it, then I will thank you not to question the means by which I do so. I have no intention of attempting to coordinate logistics of this matter without assistance.”

The little monk bowed his head. “As you wish.”

“Very well,” Sawao said. “Children,” he addressed the two young shugenja. “The matter we are to discuss now is to be spoken of to no one outside this chamber. Do you understand?”

“Of course, sensei,” Kyoko said at once.

“Whatever you wish, master,” Takesi echoed.

“Very good,” Sawao said. “Tell me of the Light and Dark Oracles, please.”

“Must everything be a learning opportunity?” Asako Juro muttered.

“The Oracles of Light are mortals blessed with a fraction of power from the Elemental Dragons,” Kyoko said. “They gain incredible power, virtual immortality, and a sort of enlightenment, and in return the dragons gain the ability to perceive the mortal realm through the eyes of a mortal, which offers them insight they could normally not gain from their divine status.” She paused. “Or so we understand, at least.”

“The Dark Oracles were created by the powers of Jigoku, the Realm of Evil,” Takesi picked up where she left off. “They balance the scales between the Heavens and Jigoku, and gain similar powers. Neither are able to intervene directly in the affairs of mortals, not without specific interactions with others to allow it.”

“Very good,” Sawao beamed. “My finest students,” he said to Juro. “Now, what is the current status of the Oracles of Light, so far as we are able to determine.”

“It is believed that they have withdrawn to the Heavens,” Takesi said. “At the very least they have removed themselves from the affairs of mortals, save for the Oracle of Thunder, who meditates in a temple in the Crane lands, and the Oracle of Air, who is known to reside atop a nigh-inaccessible cliff on the Crane shores.”

“Correct again,” Sawao said. “What you do not know, however, for to study such things would be unseemly, is that the Dark Oracles have not withdrawn their influence, so to speak.”

“I… heard a rumor,” Kyoko offered timidly. “They say that the Dark Oracle of Fire has been increasing his attacks against the Dragon Clan’s northern border of late.”

“That is no rumor,” Juro said flatly. “That is correct.”

“We believe that the fact of the matter is that the Oracles removed themselves in an attempt to lessen the influence of their counterparts in the mortal realm,” Sawao said, his eyes burning brightly. “However, that has not happened. The Dark Oracles remain active, and so the pendulum swings against them. They are the source of a growing imbalance, and the Celestial Order abhors an imbalance.”

Takesi frowned. “Do you believe that the Heavens will answer this imbalance?”

“Inevitably, yes,” Sawao said. “It is possible that another solution could be presented, however, and one that the Council of Masters find much more agreeable. If the current Dark Oracles were to be defeated, destroyed, or what have you, what would happen?”

“Would new Dark Oracles not come into existence?” Takesi asked.

“Would they?” Sawao answered. “With the influence of the Heavens through its Oracles negligible, would new Dark Oracles be created? Or might something else altogether be the result?”

“Fortunes!” Kyoko exclaimed. “You believe that they would cease to exist!”

“We do think that,” Juro admitted, his expression grudgingly respectful. “I have been appointed to oversee the Asako inquisitors, and tasked to discover if this might not be the case.”

Kyoko covered her mouth with her hand. “Juro-sama, how could such a thing be done? They have the power of gods.”

“And yet they have perished before, and will perish again,” one of the other Phoenix said firmly. His tone was not questioning.

“Children, this is Isawa Mizuhiko, and this, Isawa Kimi. They will be the Council’s representatives working alongside Juro’s agents to ensure that this happens.” Sawao inclined his head respectfully. “Kimi-san will assist in locating the Dark Oracles, and Mizuhiko…”

“I will assist in doing what must be done,” he finished.

“Your role,” Sawao said, turning to the two, “is to assist me in making certain that Juro-san has all the resources he requires. The Asako family will not bear the burden of this campaign alone.” He smiled slightly. “Can we depend upon you to aid us?”

They both bowed at once. “We are yours, sensei,” she answered.