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simplystars:
Two years ago, Kariya waited in the shadows under the tress watching the Lady Aeryn's manor burn. Resting, one knee planted in the dirt, he watched the flames spread through the compound until all the buildings were burning merrily, lighting the night with a fiery false dawn.
The Outlander's household had numbered 40 or 50 souls — outcasts, who disgraced themselves in service to a barbarian lord — and none were to live out the night. His family, the Gya-u had served the Chrysanthemum Throne for 1,200 years: they were the hands of the Imperium — Gya-u soldiers, statesmen and spies were serving the Serene Empire when the young Emperor's ancestors were still living in shit-stained huts and eating with their fingers. But the Gya-u never sought power, nor wealth. Neither mercenaries nor glory-seekers, the Gya-u were always content to serve and protect. Above politics and the petty squabbling of lesser men, the Gya-u safeguarded the well being of the Serene Empire itself. Thus, when the Gya-u perceived a sickness, a cancer, in the heart of the Empire, growing up around the Chrysanthemum Throne itself, the Gya-u acted.
Retsu-Do, chief of the clan, bore Lady Aeryn no personal enmity. They fought together, on either side of the Emperor, at the Battle of the Forked Plains. When the rest of the Imperial centre broke and the rebel attack surged towards them with the thundering power of a tsunami, in that moment, when all seemed lost, Lady Aeryn called her company together and planted them at the foot of the Imperial Standard, the Kicking Horse. The wave of rebel soldiers broke themselves on the shoals of Aeryn's men to recede in a straggling line across the plain, leaving the Emperor victorious on the field.
No, Retsu-Do respected the lady's courage but he feared her influence on the Emperor. Isolation was their strength, their gift. The Serene Empire had survived for 4, 000 years, floating in the middle the galactic sea, untouched by the troubles of the universe. To allow a barbarian, an outlander, to gain a foothold in the Empire, to become a member of the Imperial Court itself, was unthinkable. The Gya-u would not permit it.
So Kariya and his brothers had waited in the darkness. They had killed the outland man and the children while Lady Aeryn was away from the manor. Retsu-Do had decreed that she was to be given a honourable death, a warrior's death. So they waited in the shadows for her to come.
A lifetime had passed since that night. Kariya sat at the edge of a dirt square, the weight of his sword resting on his thighs, watching the fencers dance across the ground. The man to his left dragged his rear leg on the attack. The man to his right was too slow, parrying the stroke rather than moving his body to void the attack. But his wrists were strong: the force of the parried blow didn't deflect his blade to the side. Instead, the stroke sliced true into the other man's chest, bones crunching and breath exploding. He dropped his bokken as he collapsed to the ground, his arms wrapped around his chest. Kariya watched the victor: the smile, the glee in his eyes — he was something of a sadist. Kariya had met such men before and found they enjoyed inflicting pain too much to truly become master swordsmen. He would challenge him to a bout and a wager. The winnings would buy a night at a bathhouse — food, drink and perhaps a woman. Above all, he would be clean. He could have his clothes cleaned, a haircut — sleep under a roof.
Kariya lifted his sword so he could stand when a woman's voice called across the square....
simplystars:Two years ago, Kariya waited in the shadows under the tress watching the Lady Aeryn's manor burn. Resting, one knee planted in the dirt, he watched the flames spread through the compound until all the buildings were burning merrily, lighting the night with a fiery false dawn.
The Outlander's household had numbered 40 or 50 souls — outcasts, who disgraced themselves in service to a barbarian lord — and none were to live out the night. His family, the Gya-u had served the Chrysanthemum Throne for 1,200 years: they were the hands of the Imperium — Gya-u soldiers, statesmen and spies were serving the Serene Empire when the young Emperor's ancestors were still living in shit-stained huts and eating with their fingers. But the Gya-u never sought power, nor wealth. Neither mercenaries nor glory-seekers, the Gya-u were always content to serve and protect. Above politics and the petty squabbling of lesser men, the Gya-u safeguarded the well being of the Serene Empire itself. Thus, when the Gya-u perceived a sickness, a cancer, in the heart of the Empire, growing up around the Chrysanthemum Throne itself, the Gya-u acted.
Retsu-Do, chief of the clan, bore Lady Aeryn no personal enmity. They fought together, on either side of the Emperor, at the Battle of the Forked Plains. When the rest of the Imperial centre broke and the rebel attack surged towards them with the thundering power of a tsunami, in that moment, when all seemed lost, Lady Aeryn called her company together and planted them at the foot of the Imperial Standard, the Kicking Horse. The wave of rebel soldiers broke themselves on the shoals of Aeryn's men to recede in a straggling line across the plain, leaving the Emperor victorious on the field.
No, Retsu-Do respected the lady's courage but he feared her influence on the Emperor. Isolation was their strength, their gift. The Serene Empire had survived for 4, 000 years, floating in the middle the galactic sea, untouched by the troubles of the universe. To allow a barbarian, an outlander, to gain a foothold in the Empire, to become a member of the Imperial Court itself, was unthinkable. The Gya-u would not permit it.
So Kariya and his brothers had waited in the darkness. They had killed the outland man and the children while Lady Aeryn was away from the manor. Retsu-Do had decreed that she was to be given a honourable death, a warrior's death. So they waited in the shadows for her to come.
A lifetime had passed since that night. Kariya sat at the edge of a dirt square, the weight of his sword resting on his thighs, watching the fencers dance across the ground. The man to his left dragged his rear leg on the attack. The man to his right was too slow, parrying the stroke rather than moving his body to void the attack. But his wrists were strong: the force of the parried blow didn't deflect his blade to the side. Instead, the stroke sliced true into the other man's chest, bones crunching and breath exploding. He dropped his bokken as he collapsed to the ground, his arms wrapped around his chest. Kariya watched the victor: the smile, the glee in his eyes — he was something of a sadist. Kariya had met such men before and found they enjoyed inflicting pain too much to truly become master swordsmen. He would challenge him to a bout and a wager. The winnings would buy a night at a bathhouse — food, drink and perhaps a woman. Above all, he would be clean. He could have his clothes cleaned, a haircut — sleep under a roof.
Kariya lifted his sword so he could stand when a woman's voice called across the square....