1214-02-13 through 1214-02-14
RING!
The sound of an all-too-familiar bell echoed through the dimly lit barracks. The room was crowded, soldiers sprawled across every corner of the shared space. Some lay with their weapons clutched tightly in their hands, others draped over low tables.
Only the privileged shoguns were afforded the luxury of private quarters, while the rest of us shared this simple wooden hall.
As the bell tolled relentlessly, one by one, my comrades began to stir. Slowly, groggily, they awoke, just as I had moments before.
This is Wara.
The architecture here was simple yet elegant, inspired by the traditions of our ancestors. Wooden beams creaked as the soldiers shuffled about. The walls lined with paper screens. Thick bamboo poles supported the roof.
The city of Nishi, our current post, is a small fishing village nestled near wetlands. The soft murmur of early morning life reached us even in the barracks. Outside the window, the spring air filled the barracks. The stars filled the sky.
In the early hours, Nishi came alive in its quiet way. Fishermen prepared their boats along the shore, securing nets and sharpening harpoons for the day ahead. Tea houses near the river bustled with life, their wooden frames illuminated by soft lantern light as villagers gathered for morning rituals. Further inland, smoke curled from chimneys, signaling the first meals being prepared.
I turned my gaze back to the room as the sound of heavy footfalls on the wooden stairs broke my focus. A shogun descended, his armor catching what little light there was. His presence commanded the room, and the idle chatter among the waking soldiers ceased.
Our platoon had several shoguns, each hardened by battle, their faces lined with the marks of countless campaigns. But this one stood out—his bearing, his movements, and the fire in his eyes spoke of a warrior who had seen more than most of us could ever imagine.
I tightened my grip on my katana, steadying myself. Today would be the start of something greater. We were leaving behind the familiar sights of Nishi to defend the lands we had grown to call home, lands once claimed by the enemy.
The Vinyl Palace, far to the south, had been my home. Now it would become the reason I fought.
"Wake up!" a booming voice cut through the room, sending a shiver through even the most seasoned among us. "We leave at dawn!"
No one complained. No one grumbled. We moved as if guided by the same rhythm, each soldier finding their place. The air was thick with the scent of expensive dishes being brought out—steaming bowls of rice, roasted meats glazed with sweet sauces, and delicately spiced vegetables.
"This is incredible," one soldier muttered, his mouth full as he waved a skewer of marinated beef. "I've never tasted anything like this before."
"Don't eat too fast," another laughed. "We might not get another meal like this for a long time."
The mood, briefly lifted by the food, was shattered by a somber voice at the end of the table.
"Enjoy it," he said, his tone cold and resolute. "It's our last meal."
The room grew quiet. For many of us, peasants who had been forced to learn the art of war mere months ago, the idea of this being our final feast was a grim reality. A few soldiers, who had never even held a katana before this war, stared into their bowls, the food losing its luster in the shadow of dread.
"You're not going to die." The voice came from Seiji, one of the shoguns seated at the head of the hall.
He had hair as white as snow and eyes as black as the night—a stark and haunting hallmark of Wara. Some whispered that the people of Wara were cursed by a dragon, while others claimed it was because of the emperor's dealings .
The emperor himself was an enigma. Few had seen him, and fewer still could claim to know him. He was a man cloaked in legend, spoken of in hushed tones.The emperor is like the moon—distant, cold, and always watching.
One thing was certain: the emperor's bloodline bore a mark of distinction—blue eyes like a frozen lake and hair as white as the winter snow. His descendants, though unseen by most, were said to embody his will..
"Not on my watch," Seiji continued, his voice cutting through the tension. "We will defend our home from the Ahk invaders who lay stagnant for years."
"That's right," another added.
A quiet determination spread through the room, and the soldiers who had moments before been weighed down by fear now sat straighter.
The tension in the room softened as the clatter of bowls and quiet murmurs filled the air. Soldiers whispered among themselves, their voices blending with the steady crackle of a small fire at the room's center.
"This pork... It's like butter," one soldier marveled, chewing slowly. "I don't think I've ever tasted something this tender in my life."
"Don't get used to it," another replied, jabbing his chopsticks toward the first soldier. "Tomorrow, it's back to dried rations and whatever we can scavenge. Make this count."
"Scavenge? You're too optimistic," a third chimed in with a humorless laugh.
Seiji wasn't like the other shoguns. Everyone knew it. While they kept to their private rooms and rarely mingled, Seiji sat among the men, ate the same meals, and even slept on the same rough bedding. He listened to their fears and their hopes, sharing their burdens as if he were one of them.
Seiji turned. His hair was slightly disheveled, and his grip on his chopsticks betrayed his nerves.
"And you," Seiji began. "What's your name?"
I hesitated. "I'm wise enough not to give my name to a shogun," I replied cautiously.
Seiji chuckled softly. "Fair enough," he replied.
"It counts," I admitted after a pause. "You're one of us."
"You'll have my respect even if I don't have your name," I said simply, turning his attention back to his bowl.
A few moments passed in silence before Seiji whispered. "I'll get you back to your family," he said, his tone unwavering. "That's a promise."
I couldn't find the voice to reply.
Shogun Seiji... I'm truly in your debt, I thought to myself as I watched him.
Although Seiji viewed us as men and not pawns like the other shoguns, we were still faces, not names. He treated us with dignity, but we all knew the truth of our station. Perhaps our families would grieve, maybe our country would remember us for a time.
But as years passed, our lives, our struggles, and our sacrifices would fade—lost to the unending conflicts of the past.
As I continued my meal, savoring each bite of what might be my last, my thoughts turned to the emperor. Few had ever seen him face to face, and even fewer had seen him without his mask. Some whispered that he was disfigured in a distant war; others claimed he hid his beauty to avoid distracting his court.
The emperor carried many titles: The Dragon of the West, The Ice Emperor, The Frost of the Battlefield. But the name most often spoken in hushed tones was his most common: The Emperor of War.
Once we finished our meals, we rose and bowed before the statue of the Supreme Dragon. Carved from ancient stone, its coiled body towered over us, its eyes seeming to pierce into the souls of all who stood before it. The Supreme Dragon, the Mother of All Dragons, was revered above all. Whether it was the sand dragons of the west or the ice dragons of the north, all were said to descend from her.
When the ceremony concluded, we donned our armor together. The soldiers wore samurai armor of pure white, the lacquered plates gleaming in the dim light. The shoguns, by contrast, wore armor of white and purple, their chest plates adorned with painted circles. Each circle represented a past victory, a mark of honor earned through blood and steel. Of the six shoguns present, only one bore more than five circles: Seiji.
Once ready, we gathered outside, the air thick with tension as we jostled and pushed toward the docks. The sky was beginning to lighten, the first hues of dawn painting the horizon in soft golds and pinks. Six massive boats awaited us, each capable of carrying a thousand men and a handful of horses.
The boats themselves were marvels of engineering, constructed with sturdy wooden hulls reinforced with iron bands. Their decks were wide and open, designed to accommodate large numbers of soldiers while still leaving space for supplies and mounts. Rows of oars extended from either side, each manned by a team of rowers, while a single tall mast held a sail bearing the emblem of Wara: a dragon coiled around a crescent moon.
The prows of the ships were carved into the shape of dragon heads, their jaws open as though roaring at the sea ahead. Below deck, the cramped interior was lined with sleeping mats and storage for weapons and rations
We filed onto the boats in silence, the weight of our mission pressing down on us. The cities of Ichi and Vieu lay ahead, both destined to face the full might of Wara's forces. As the sun began to rise, its rays spilling across the water, we set sail.
Strung against the wall was a map of eastern Wara.
The boats pushed forward. As I stared out at the water, a familiar voice called out behind me.
"Hey, you're staring too hard," the voice teased.
I turned to see Aoi, a childhood friend who somehow always found himself in the middle of whatever chaos I got dragged into. His hair was windswept, and his grin was the same as ever.
"Aoi," I said, smiling despite the weight of the journey.
"Who else?" he replied, clapping me on the shoulder. "You look like you've never seen a boat move this fast before."
"It's hard not to notice," I admitted. "We're practically flying. What's the secret? Did the Supreme Dragon bless us with the wind?"
Aoi chuckled, his grin widening. "You really want to know, Adachi ?"
"Sure," I said, leaning closer.
"It's not the wind," he said, lowering his voice. "It's a water dragon. They're pulling the boats."
I winked, sure he was joking.
Hours passed before we finally reached landfall. The boats split, each heading toward its designated target. Three of the shoguns and their forces made for Viue, while my boat and two others turned toward Ichi. These cities would be the first line of defense. If they fell, all of Eastern Wara would collapse with them.
The march to Ichi was grueling. We marched for hours through dense forests. By the time we reached the city, the moon hung in the sky.
Ichi stood.
Tall stone walls surrounded the city. Within, castles and keeps loomed above the streets. Manors lined the streets with their roofs glistening in the moonlight.
"It's... beautiful," I murmured to myself.
A firm hand rested on my shoulder, pulling me from my thoughts. I turned to see Seiji standing behind me.
"The emperor can't make it," he said quietly.
"What do you mean?"
"He won't be here," Seiji continued. "The Ahk forces will attack in a few days."
I swallowed hard, my eyes drifting back to the city before us. The thought of defending it without the emperor's presence left a knot in my stomach.
But Seiji's hand remained steady on my shoulder, grounding me. "We'll hold the line," he said firmly. "I promise you."