Shinchi Shinsan

[Mor'os]

"I suppose that one could describe it your divinity as a strong saz, but formed with the tongue between the teeth. 'Th'. Please, if you wish to try it."

Making a real and concerted effort, Osmar spoke. "'Z'."

"If I may be so bold to say so, not quite. 'Th'."

"'Z'."

For all his brilliance and intelligence, the voiceless dental fricative elluded completely and utterly the young emperor of Mor'os. The neural pathways which would have mapped the way from the sound to the proper formation of tongue and breath had long since died away, lost forever.

"Perhaps we'd better move on..."

The scholar was interrupted as a clatter from the other end of the hall announced the entrance of another. Both scholar and emperor looked with curiousity. The outfit that the new arrival wore made it plain that it was the Prime Minister Rassen, here on some business.

"Ah, this looks important. If you do not object your divinity, I will take my leave for now." Already he'd begun the process of packing up.

"Yes, that would be fine. Good bye." Without missing a beat he looked to his grandfather, who had already covered quite a bit of distance to the throne, age not withstanding. He was one of the few who would ever be permitted to approach so openly. "And how are you this day Grandfather?"

"I am well Osmar. You seem to have been keeping... busy?"

"Yes yes, this," another mental effort to wrap his tongue around intonations that had no right to exist from his brain's point of view "Ing-lish is a fascinating language. You might want to take it upon yourself to study. Chasmor tells me it is the tongue of the world outside of Mor'os."

Rassen smiled, a smile meant to humor the boy and nothing else. "Perhaps, but I fear that I am too old for such things... regardless, I am here on some important business for you."

"Oh? And what might that be?"

"Just an invitation to a banquet to be held at my home. So much has happened... I thought that the occasion called for such an event. You of course would be the guest of honor, as you always are."

Osmar bit his lip in thought. He at a gut level had no desire to accept. These sort of banquets were unbearable, nothing more than a bunch of bloated and drunken fools. But to decline his own Prime Minister and Grandfather... bad politics, even for an emperor.

"I... gladly accept Grandfather."

"I knew you would. The affair is scheduled for tomorrow evening, at dusk. I sincerely hope that you won't be tardy and miss the festivities."

[Mor'os]

Imperial Censor Morta walked from wall to wall, fiercely pacing the room. What he and the others were about to attempt...anyoen who could consider the matter without doubt, fear and nervousness was simply not human. When something had not been attempted or ever considered for thousands of years, there was usually a good reason for it, or so Morta thought. Then again, the Emperor was pursuing something which had  not been pursued for years either, so perhaps it was justified.

Heaven, Haryhīn had better know what he's doing. And where is she?

He continued the pacing, wracked by nerves. His contact was suppose to be here already. Had she been caught and found out? Would she reveal everything? This was not something that would be tolerated...

"Master Morta?"

Finally, thought Morta, slightly relieved. Composing himself, he asked the question to which he already knew the answer.

"Yes? What is the reason for this?"

"A lady, here to see you at what she claims to be your invitation. Shall I let her in?"

"Yes, please do." The sound of feet shuffling, and then the door slid open by an unseen hand. In stepped as promised a lady, young in years, and with features stunning in everywhich way. A closer inspection would reveal to anyone who came closer that they were features carved from coldest ice, and Morta could not help but let the chill through his entire body. Beautiful as she was, it was an uncomfortably eery beauty.

Idley she placed a stray strand of hair back in its place. "You called for me Morta-sam?"

"Yes, yes I did," He gestured in front of him with a mixture of polite ceremony and nerves. "Please be seated." He didn't hesitate to take himself up on his own offer. The as of yet unamed woman took it too, placing herself behind the opposite end of the table.

"I would rather that I did not come here for your amusement Morta-sam. When someone contacts me it is because they need something important done and done right. Tell me, is that what you want." She directed her cold and piercing eyes at him.

"Yes yes, I know what you do and I and others find ourselves in need of your services."

"The mark?"

Morta hesitated.  "We want you to...deal with the Emperor for us."

Even she was shocked by this. "The Emperor? I thought this wasn't a joke."

"It isn't. Tomorrow, at Rassen's banquet...we would like you to kill his divinity." He did his best to convey honesty and sincerity, to be taken seriously as ridiculous as his proposal was. She eventually shrugged.

"A mark's a mark. This though will cost you quite a bit."

"Yes yes, we are aware... and I assure you that you will be payed generously for this-"

Morta percieved only a blur of fabric, and then that a blade lay quivering in the wall behind him. He inhaled to shout, and then thought better of it.

"I am losing my patience, and fast. I would suggest that we begin to discuss real numbers here and real business."

"But...but of course..." Morta smiled weakly.

[Mor'os]

The following evening was fairly pleasant, all things considered. The unusual cool was much welcomed, after days and weeks of relentless summer sun had scorched the earth without end. So pleasant in fact that even Osmar managed a relatively warm temperment, even if he was destined for what he considered the most hated of all occassions that night. It promised to be an empty evening, but he did have to confess to himself that at least the food would likely be decent.

Having made all the proper preparations, which more or less pertained solely to dress, he was prepared to leave once he'd met up with his obligatory entourage in the palace grounds. Clopping through the palace halls in his geta though, he was accosted by an unexpected but not unwelcomed sight.

"Tayung! I had not expected to see you here!" he exclaimed in greeting to his life time instructor in the martial arts and close personal friend, Tayung Son'īh.

"Good evening, Osmar." He cast an eye up and down the full suited emperor. "You certainly seem prepared for that banquet." His expression darkened. "But I am here for more important business."

"What is it Tayung?"

"You cannot go to that banquet. It is bad news, all around. No doubt that Ar intend to do you in."

Osmar did all he could to keep from laughing. "What? That's absurd Tayung, you know that! No one would ever dare to lay a hand on me, emperor."

"Only because no other emperor has ever dared to lay a hand on the Ar in return. Why else would they hold this? There have been omens as well, and forboding ones. A star just recently fell from the sky to the south west..."

"Such superstitions are ridiculous, outdated. It is things like that which I intend to put an end to once and for all. Now, if you will excuse me, I do not wish to be late.” Without another word Osmar resumed his clattering down the halls, leaving Tayung to simply shake his head before walking off himself to some unknown location.

[Mor'os]

"Ah, you've arrived at last Osmar!" A Rassen, far to jubilant by any measure, stood at the gate of his home, welcoming Osmar and his entourage with a stupid and beaming grin. From behind him, various clatters, mutterings, and other related sounds of social enjoyment indicated that the arrival of others had preceded Osmar's. "It is so good to finally see you: I'd worried that you might miss the festivities."

"And it is good to see you as well Grandfather," replied Osmar with equally plastic and hollow goodwill. "I have been looking forward to this."

"Please, please," said Rassen, motioning for him to enter. "Let us not waste our time standing out here. Please, let us go the main  hall. You will know where that is already." He trotted off, leading the way down the winding garden path. The lanterns which had been placed at every available point for the occasion cast the event in a soft and flickering glow, blending with the blue hues of the dusk.

"And here we are," Rassen announced after a short walk, which Osmar dearly wished would have gone on far longer than it did. He was not even in the hall and yet he already found the noise of the incessant and mindless chatter wearing down his previous good temper.

"Friends!" Rassen waited for the hush to roll over the entirety of those assembled before he continued. "Our guest of honor, his Divinity himself has arrived to  partake of our humble festivities." Automatically, the whole of those gathered bowed low four times, in uncanny and practiced unison. The ministers of Mor'os had a knack for such things.

"His humble servants welcome his Divinty!" When chanted by so many voices together, the phrase took on quite a bit of gravitas. Osmar though, having heard it endlessly time and time again, was in no way impressed by it anymore, nor did he pride himself in being addressed so. He merely gave a dismissive motion of recognition, and proceeded to seat himself at his prefered location at the head of the table. He groaned to himself as he saw that Morta and Lengmach were already there.

"Good good good," Rassen continued to ramble on with excessive jollity. "But what are we all waiting for? Let this banquet begin!"


Course after course was produced, and wine flowed freely for the better part of an hour. It was everything that Osmar had expected it would be. The majority of the ministers were quite drunk and content in a matter of minutes it seemed, and the Emperor did his best to ignore it all while eating his own limited portions. He was surprised though when Morta stood.

"Please, if it would not offend my gracious host or his Divinity, I would ask that I leave early this night. I am feeling ill, and feel that it is best that I rest."

Rassen nodded curtly. "Go if you wish friend. I would not wish to impose on you at the expense of your health." Morta turned to Osmar and looked intently. Grudgingly, Osmar spoke.

"Yes, you may return home if you feel that it is necessary for your health. I wish that you recover soon."

Morta bowed stiffly. "Thank you, thank you." And then he was gone. Rassen spoke next.

"It is a shame that he had to depart so early. I had hired some particularly talented entertainment for tonight."

Osmar's curiousity was peaked slightly. "What sort?"

"She is, I am told, the most talented dancer and songstress from here to Ausil and back to Sekad. I do not know her name, for she has kept it a secret lest she be swamped by admirers and would be lovers, or so I am told. Me has however earned herself the informal title the Black Rose."

Another internal groan on Osmar's part, and an especially exacerbated one. He'd thought that Rassen had abandoned this whole marriage and seduction business over a year ago. He'd thought it to good to be true at the time. This only seemed to prove him correct. But he had to oblige his Grandfather, for the sake of ceremony and tradition.

"I have never heard of her myself. Very well, I would like to see for myself if she is really as talented as you say." Rassen clapped his hands, and if on queue a small troupe filed in, consisting of a set of undistinguished musicians, and the promised songstress. Osmar admitted to himself, she was certainly stunning. But, there was something else to her, a certain chill. Osmar found it slightly unnerving. While Osmar examined, she approached and bowed deeply four times.

"It is an honor to perform for someone as great as your Divinity." Without waiting for  a reply, she took her place on the floor, and the band struck up its tune. Round and round she turned, as she began her fluid dance across the floor, and from her lips broke her song in a sweet and fluid voice. Osmar, to his great surprise, found himself genuinely impressed. This was not just another tart, this was someone who truly appreciated their art. As the minutes passed, he found himself increasingly enthralled by the display.

The pace of the music quickened, the percussion taking new prominence, as the performance approached its crescendo. It happened in an instant. As the Black Rose turned about, she reached within her sleeve. Osmar sighted a glint of metal, and then it was upon him. Quick reflexes earned through years of training only barely saved him. Jerking his head to the side, the flying blade still passed close enough that he could feel the wind left by its passage.

No time to  ask questions. Already, she was reaching into her other sleeves. Others had risen from their seats, swords drawn, either intent on him or silencing those not in on the plot. Riding a rush of adrenaline, he stood to his feet, kicking over the table as he did so in a great clattering cacophony and drawing his own weapon in one swift motion. Already charging, he carried the drawing of the sword into one flowign motion and, in the blink of an eye, ran the assassin songstress through. The second blade tumbled from her hands, followed shortly by her body. Without even allowing a heart beat to pass he ran again, making straight for the nearest exit. Taken in shock at what had happened, the coconspirators hesitated for a moment save one, who was artfully cut down.

Rassen swore.

"Hell take you all! This wasn't supposed to happen, Osmar is supposed to be dead!"

"Calm yourself Haryhīn. The boy may have escaped, but he hasn't a home to return to if Morta's done his work properly." He cast an analytical eye at the former Black Rose. "Pity, she really was a good dancer. An overrated assassin though it would seem."

"Quite prattling! We make for Morta and the palace immediately."

[Mor'os]

In the rush to escape, Osmar's footwear had been abandoned at his grandfather's house. It was now in nothing but bare and muddied socks that he ran through the streets. But he did not notice the fact. Adreneline coursed through every brain now, and it was on a pure and base animal instinct that he now operated, that base instinct for survival.

What remained of his human faculties were devoted to a blinding and seething anger. How had he not seen it, how had he been so foolish as to diregard Tayung's words? How could they dare to take his own life? Again and again, he told himself that they would pay, that he would not rest until he'd meted out a just punishment to each and everyone of them. The tie of blood be damned to the Hells!

In this state, it was a moment or two before his thinking and logical brain caught up to events and raised an alarm at an anamoly.

If it was dusk, then why was the sun rising in a great conflageration of red and yellow light?

The shock of realization for a moment threatened to send him back into that madness, but he held fast. It was not the sun that rose, but it was indeed a great and fierce fire, one that seemed to fill all available space with its mean and wicked light. And it was no base fuel that the fire thrived on. It was  the palace, the imperial palace. Seat of national government and Osmar's home, now ablaze.

No! Osmar's feet quickened as he rushed forward, past stunned on lookers, over cobbles and mud as fast as he could. He had to be there, he had to do something! There was no time to consider what had to be done, all that he knew and cared was that something must be done!

A great clattering stormed towards him, a terrible beast rose against the infernal backdrop, and from his feet an assailant swept him from his feet. Automatically Osmar moved to cut him down, to free himself. But his blade slipped, and was lost behind.

"Thank Heaven, you're alive!"

The voice was a familiar one, despite the terrible noise of the clattering hooves, panting horse and the chaos that their charge left in its wake. "Tayung?"

"We make for safety, and leave the capital."

"What? No! I refuse to abandon-"

"It is lost!" Osmar questioned Tayung no more.

[Mor'os]

They rode for what seemed like an eternity, down the road and in no particular direction. Osmar certainly didn't know where they were bound for, and he was unsure that Tayung knew any better. The sun fell behind the horizon as they rode on, and it was soon through a moonlight which under the circumstances seemed eery and threatening that they fled.

Finally, their beast of burden could take it no longer. The stress of the flight and of the conflict of escaping the city had taken its toll. The horse slowed, and then simply collapsed beneath them. All efforts to get it moving again proved to be in vain.

"Damn it all," muttered Tayung as he gave up. "I'm afraid that we'll have to walk from here." He waited for a response, and recieved none. Osmar was sitting at the edge of the road, this section a raised causeway winding through the rice patties. With a blank and detached stare, he was observing the reflection of the moon, almost full, on the waters of the patties. The white sphere's image was marred by the young shoots of rice breaking the water's surface, and it appeared speckled. He was lost in thought, and Tayung could not blame him. With everything that had happened, even the normally resilient youth had to be unnerved.

"Please, we must continue to move. If not, we risk being caught up with and captured. You know now that they will not hesitate to take your life if it is necessary for them to succeed."

"I am sorry." Tayung blinked. He had not expected that. "If I had listened to you earlier, all of this would not have occurred. I have put you and all those around me in terrible danger for the sake of my own childish pride."

"Be that as it may, it is done and in the past. In the present, we live. Would you now have your stupid shame and guilt bring us a future in which neither of us remain to breath and walk the earth?" This seemed to touch something in Osmar, who wordlessly stood to his feet, still bare and unshod.


"You are as correct now as you were when I refused your advise. Let us make haste, wherever it is we might be bound for".

[Mor'os]

Wisps of thick and sinister black smoke, curling like some vile serpents into the air, blocked out the full intensity of the morning sun as it rose over Kēur. The smoke rose from the  charred and crumbling remains of what had once been a significant portion of the opulent imperial palace and, as a result of fire's indiscriminate and cruel nature, those portions of the city which lay, or had lain more accurately, immediately adjecent through the structure.

Riding on horseback through this scene, Rassen could not help but feel irritated. That damn Morta had been unforgivably sloppy in his execution of the seizure of the palace. It should have been a simple matter, and no need to burn the entire thing to the ground. So much for the former architectural marvel as a spoil of war.

He nearly snapped at the next person who addressed him, but kept his calm. That person was some unknown, unrecognized commander or such. He shuffled up and bowed stiffly.

"Reporting your Lordship!"

"Yes? What is that you have to report?"

The commander gulped, not eager to say the least to be the bearer of such bad news. "We have been unable to locate your grandson as you requested. We can only assume that he has long fled the city." Having lit the dynamite, he waited nervously for the explosion.

This particular stick of dynamite though seemed a dud; Rassen betrayed only the slightest twitch.

"My daughter?"

"Safe and accounted for."

"Very well. If that is the case then he will doubtlessly be back, and back with more. Rally your men commander, and the others. And draft all that you can too. We will need everything to finish this."

Another stiff bow. "As you command." And with that he was gone, all to happy to be so.


As the broke the horizon over Kēur so did it break over the far more peaceful, and certainly far less unnaturaly blackened, patties of Gīnjīh. Trudging down the road, two figures appeared, on the verge of collapse the both of them.

Osmar squinted. The sun's glare was an unwelcome sight. It burned his eyes, made his head pound with weariness. He and Tayung had walked the whole night. He knew not where they were, or how far they had come.

"Tayung, how much farther is it that we must walk? I fear that I can go no further."

"I do not know, but we must continue. We have no other option-" His weary face was suddenly alert.

"Someone is coming!" He pointed down the road, at an indistinct mass that was indeed approaching. "We must hide quickly." Both he and Osmar looked desperately from side to side, but it was no good. No cover presented itself, just patties on all sides.

"Tayung, those do not look like soldiers or Ar..." Tayung looked for himself at the figures that had gained ground in their brief search for cover. They indeed did not look as such. They looked like peasants on the whole.

"Your Divinity!" cried the lead member of the group, and the whole lot quickened their pace and covered the remaining ground. "You are safe!" With that said, the lot of them fell to their knees. Osmar was puzzled by the whole event.

"What is this?"

"Riders had already reached us with news of the wicked deeds committed in the Capital last night. We and others have been searching for you, hopeful that your divinity may have lived. How glad I am to see that this is true!"

Osmar smiled oddly, and then collapsed on the road.

[Mor'os]

The dragonflies flicked from reed to flower, from flower to read, coasting on the breeze. Osmar grinned and gave a small squeal of joy as he chased after the  insect, attempting in vain to dart from side to side as rapidly as they did. Joy quickly became frustration, until at last he tripped and fell with a distinct "umph".

"Ah, Osmar, are you okay?" It was as swiftly as he had fallen that the kindly voice had rang out and his mother bustled to Osmar, his eyes now watery with tears. Stifling a small sniffle, he looked up into that head, highlighted vividly by the noon sun behind it. That sun, it grew brighter and brighter, and soon consumed the shadow. Osmar tried to look away, but he could not...

Opening his eyes with a start, only to immediately shut them again and roll onto his side, removing his face from the light that was shining so unkindly into wear eyes. He blinked, and then rose with a start as he realized that he had absolutely no idea of where he was. If his mind recalled correctly, he'd collapsed in the road, not in a bed like the one in which he now sat, and certainly not inside a bedchamber of an evidently higher calibre. What time was it? Outside the wind stirred the branches of a willow, and the crickets were taking up their dusk chorus. How long had he slept?

With caution, he swung himself out of the bed and planted his feat on the floor. He found that he was not wearing what he had been earlier. Someone had taken the time to change him into a set of clothing which was far more practical for sleep than what he had fled Kēur in.

Unbidden, the door began to slide open. Osmar jumped, put himself on guard. Tense as he was, he only relaxed slightly when he saw that it was Tayung that entered, and not whatever unknown figure that had transported him to what he presumed to be a home of the upper class.

"Tayung! Where are we?"

"Ah, I see that you are finally awake. You slept through the entire day you realize! You must have been exhausted."

Osmar rolled his head, exasperated. "Yes, but where is this?"

"This? This is the residence of the governor of Gīnjīh." Osmar felt that little hope  he'd felt before he'd collapsed fail. Gīnjīh's governor was an Ar.

"You mean that we are prisoners after all this? Then why are we not dead?"

Tayung gave a small laugh. "By Heaven's fortune, no. It would seem that your reputation precedes you; the noble who once ran this province was hastily ousted by the peasantry once they caught word of what happened in the Capital. It seems to have spread fast. On that note, it would be best if you were to dress with haste. There is something that you must see."


It took an hour's time for Osmar to bath and cloth himself, making use of the first items available.By then, the sun was beginning to sink below the horizon. He reflected for the briefest moment on just how things had turned about; he was preparing for a new day at its end. An ill omen if it were anything.

Prepared thusly, he clattered down into the entrance hall of the residence. Tayung was there, with a man whom Osmar did not recognize in the least. Tayung was kind enough to introduce him.

"This is the new governor for the moment, Akmal Nansat." The now named man bowed deeply and with great reverence.

"How glad I and the people of Gīnjīh are to see that your Divinity has survived the cruel and unthinkable attempt on your life."

"Yes, thank you," Osmar answered as he regarded the man. He seemed honest enough, but as he had recently learned to rely on appearences and assumptions was a dangerous game. "I am told that you have something of great importance?"

Nansat bowed and nodded. "Yes your Divnity. Please, if it would please you." He motioned to the door out. "I will show you." Osmar consented, and the trio proceeded to the door and to gaze down upon the matter of importance as it stood at attention in the courtyard. The stoic Osmar found himself slightly overwhelmed.

"Volunteer soldiers, loyal to your Divinity, ready to fight at your Divinity's word and bidding."

[Mor'os]

Osmar tried hard to find words to express what he felt at the moment. He finally decided to give up on it, and settled for

"What?"

Nansat now was the one puzzled, if in a bemused fashion. "Surely your divinity is not surprised to find that the people are still loyal to him and to the dynasty?"

"Yes, but it is not as though I or anyone within the Imperial palace has called for volunteers."

"You understate your reputation your divinity. The people appreciate greatly all that you have attempted to do for us in these past months and years, even going so far as to risk your own life against the Ar. Now that they have struck, the people believe that they must be removed forever, so that your enlightened reign might continue in earnest."

Tayung chose the moment to inerject, seeing that Osmar still was not up to speed completely. "This was your own plan, was it not?  To side the Dar with the Ol against their common enemy in the form of the Ar?"

"Yes, but never in such a way as this." Osmar allowed himself a smile. "But there is no reason to shun Heaven's blessings." Emotions running high, he turned to the assembled and cried "You do not come here in vain today! The Ar's corruption will be removed finally so that the empire might yet again breath! Heaven wills it!"

As he'd hoped, his speech was met with a raucious cheer, and soon the cry of "Heaven wills it", "Ten sū shi.", had been taken up in earnest, repeated again and again in a cycle as they beat their spears against the earth.

Nansat and Tayung broke Osmar from reveling in his successful demogoguery. "There is more that we must show your divinity. Please, follow."


In a joke on fate's part, Rassen was at roughly the same time inspecting with Morta and Lengmach some troops of his own. But the mood for this event was far more depressed, infinitely more in fact. These were not volunteers, but rather a lot of dazed and confused fellows who had been impressed into service to create a fighting force.

Rassen was slightly dissapointed by what he saw, but decided that it was the best he could realistically hope for.

"Is this the best you could find?" he asked the commander. The commander gave a nervous nod.

"Very well. Prepare and arm these men. We march as soon as possible to crush those dissidents in Gīnjīh and elsewhere. And with any luck, Osmar along with them." He decided it best to finish with a flourish. "This Empire will finally be ours!"

[Mor'os]

Osmar ran his fingers along and turned in his hands the device that had been profered to him. It was a gun of sorts; the Mor'osi had been using hand cannons and arquebus for some time. But this weapon was different. It was less clumsy, oozing an absolute sense  of modernity and power.

"These are the weapons that your Divinity ordered to be procured to  modernize Mor'os's military forces some time ago. We have had the opportunity to test them, and they are quite amazing. They can fell a man from ranges we had thought impossible, and with such accuracy!"

Osmar nodded. "Is there enough?"

"Enough? With one of these, a single man could very well fell the Ar in their entirety! There will be more than enough to accomplish what we had hoped for. And it is not just simple guns like this alone. We have also obtained advanced artillery, which will reduce any stronghold to dust in a matter of minutes. Heaven does indeed smile upon your divinity."

"Do the men know how to operate these devices?"

"The basics your divinity. They are far simpler to operate than are previous weapons of such a nature, and what we must learn can be accounted for in time."

Osmar contemplated what he had been told, and decided upon a course of action.

"If we have such power then we must act on it! Prepare the men, and see to it that they are adequately armed and supplied. We will march for the Capital at tomorrow's dawn!"

"At once your divinity!"

[Mor'os]

As promised, the sun the following morning rose on the volunteer army, armed and ready for battle with their new weaponry, and with eager spirits. Moral ran high; these were men whom believed that they were fighting for the will of not only Heaven itself but Heaven's son. They were fighting to once and for all remove the Ar who had for untold centuries made their lives miserable at every turn. At last, justice was to be dealt! It was an impressive display on their part that they did not spontaneously break out into cheer.

At the head of the column, waiting to begin its march, rode Osmar, Tayung and Nansat, mounted as any decent commander ought to be on horseback. Osmar, in a sign of solidarity with these Ol, in part prompted by witnessing the success such efforts could have, had gone out of his way to dress practically and simply. He was in high spirits, glad to see that things might be resovled so soon after they had started, and that his reforms could continue uninterrupted. That they Ar had gone so far as to try and take his life was proof enough that he had been doing something correctly.

He drew his sword and held it vertically above his head, catching the attention of the soldiers.

"Men of Mor'os! Today you claim your divine rights from the corrupt! Ten sū shi!"

"Ten sū shi." the soldiers roared back in chorus, releasing that pent up ecstasy. Not waiting for their energy and moral to fade, Osmar signaled for the march to begin. Out they filed from the courtyard of the governor's manor, and down the streets, with the troops and front and behind the supplies drawn in wagons, as well as the promised new artillery. Many an expectant face had turned out to see them off, cheering and joining in the chant of "Ten sū shi". It was an absolutely glorious send off for the force in every which way. By day's end, they would be back in the Capital Districts and ready to reclaim what was theirs.


Osmar was not the only one preparing for war. Back in the Capital, things moved at a frantic pace, as Rassen demanded that preparation after preparation for battle be made. His subordinates were fast losing faith in him, chaffing under his harsh rule, but could say nothing for the sake of their loyalty' integrity. War loomed on the horizon...

[Mor'os]

A day's march northward brought them a great distance, and they had in truth made very good time. But as the sun began to set behind the horizon, and the world began to darken around them, they were still a distance from the Capital. Osmar certainly had not expected that they would ever be able to attack the Capital and reclaim it the very same day that he had set out for it. But he had hoped that they might have been close enough so that they could launch the attack the following day. It seemed that this was not to be the case.

"It's growing late," commented Tayung in what was meant to be to no one in particular, yet clearly singled out Osmar.

"I know that," was the reply. "I was hoping that we might be able to gain more ground, retake the Capital on tomorrow's daybreak."

"That will not be the case I'm afraid. There's just too much distance to be covered, and we can't push the men too far, lest they become exhausted." Osmar nodded.

"Nansat-sam!" The de facto governor broke from the marching line and rode up.

"Your divinity?"

"Have the men pitch camp for the night. We'll resume the advance in the morning."

"At once your divinity."


Rassen stroked his beard as was the prevailing fashion as he analyzed and thought over the report which he had just been handed. Lengmach and Morta peered over his shoulder, looking for something to do and fearing the worst respectively.

"What does it say?" asked Morta.

"Scouts report that they've sighted dust rising from the roads to the south, advancing on the Capital. He has made his move sooner then even I had expected."

"Are we ready for him?"

"Of course we're ready!" snapped Rassen. "We have the army of the Empire under our command. He owns nothing now but a lot of ragtag peasants! He'll be here in a day or two, and we'll meet him the field and get rid of him for good!"

[Mor'os]

The night passed by without any trouble, no counter attack from the Ar, a nocturnal ambush. Simple military logic dictated that the Ar, barring incredible incompetence, would by now be aware of there movements, preparing to meet them. When morning came, they resumed their march, making good time again. They were within range of the Capital now, but it would be foolish and over eager to attack instantly when the men were again still exhausted from another full day's march; crossing the Dasen had taken up quite some time, particularly moving the artillery across. They camped for the night again, on high ground above the plains and fields surrounding their target. That they were noticed was confirmed by an assembled army on the plains below, their own campfires smoking in the night. Osmar treated his own men to a feast in anticipation of what was to come the next day. The men were in good spirits, and itching for approaching battle.

The sun set, and the sun rose again. The artillery was wheeled out and prepared in the wee hours of the morning, ready to fire down at the enemy.

Osmar was slightly doubtful. "Are you sure that these weapons can really strike our enemies with effectiveness Nansat sam? They're a ways off from our position."

"Aye your divinity, they can close the range. These are as I have told your divinity incredible weapons. They took my humble self aback when I saw them for the first time as well." Osmar frowned a bit more, but decided to conceed to the greater experience of Nansat.

"Very well. Are they ready to fire?"

"Aye your divinity, they await only your divinity's order to open fire."

"Fire."

With an almost automatic motion, the gunners followed the order swiftly and efficiently. In a great chain, from the one closest to Osmar to the one farthest, the blast of the artilleries fire rent the air, and from each barrel a shell flew screaming through the air. Intently, Osmar watched, watched to see if the weapons delivered what they had promised. Shortly they did, as a series of impressive blasts landed throughout the army which had assembled on the fields below. From the lofty vantage point, Osmar could observe the enemy ranks break and scatter in the face of such an unprecedented assault. He almost burst into laughter, though thrilled was he.

"Heaven, absolutely incredible! Quickly, reload and prepare another volley! We'll have the Capital and the throne back in due time."

[Mor'os]

They had heard the whistling first, the sound of something passing through the air at incredible speeds, zooming towards them with a keen and deadly intent. Then there was the blast, a blast that shook the earth as if it were nothing and lifted into the air great plumes of dirt, and the bodies of those soldiers and occasional horse who had had the misfortune of being at the wrong place at the wrong time.

Rassen now found himself in a desperate struggle to control his own mount. The beast had been extensively trained and prepared for war, but never anything of this magnitude, not against the terrible powers that this new weapon displayed. Mad with terror, it threatened to bolt at any moment, risking injury to itself or to its rider.

"Calm down you damn beast!" Rassen cried, furious at it and the events going on around him. The ranks had broken under the very first volley. The men's hearts had not been into it from the beginning, and many suspected that what they did flew in the face of all good decency and morality. Now that Heaven was quite clearly showing its displeasure with them, nothing could hold them. It was a mad dash to get back into the city, back behind the safety of its great stone walls.

"Damn you all!" Rassen roared at the top of his voice, still struggling to stay atop his mount. "Get back here and fight, or the consequences will be dire!"

"I-it's no g-g-good. It's l-lost. We h-have to retreat." It was Morta, more unnerved and frightened than usual. "P-please, half the m-m-men have already fled."

With an intense scowl at Morta, who cringed under it, Rassen decided to concede for the moment.

[Mor'os]

The soldier sat, huddled in a corner and doing nothing at all military. He was rocking slightly back in forth in the fetal position. He'd been doing it for sometime, though he personally wasn't sure just how long. What he was certain of was that regardless of time it had been far from pleasant, as he had sat there counting of each explosion as the shells fell onto the city. Always there was that horrid whistling as they cut through the air, a warning which came to late to do any good and only cruely mocked them. He was reaching his wits end. He wasn't the only one. It had been like this ever since they'd fled into the city and its apparent safety. He and the others had silently endured it this long, but something finally gave.

"I cannot stand this any longer!" hissed a fellow soldier. "This is madness, us all here offered like lambs to the slaughter for that traitor Rassen!" He hilighted his contempt by spitting on the floor, and then continued. "We should be aiding his divinity the Emperor in his struggle, not fighting him!"

Such blatant insult of the commanding officer and endorsement of siding with the enemy by the classical rules of military discipline enumerated in the Gundau should have earned the man a swift execution. But none came, not even from the officers present. Rather, they all remained glum and silent, committed to their grim fate.

"How can you all sit there while this happens? Rassen is not with Heaven's favor, we bear no obligation to follow his orders."

The first soldier decided to humor his impromptu speech. "Be that as it may, what can we do?"

"Simple enough, we open the gates and allow the Emperor to enter. Rassen can't be everywhere at once, and who would do as he says if the Emperor were here?"

More silence, but one of contemplation this time. Primarily, contemplating on how none of them could have seen such a simple solution before. Several of the officers felt embarrassed even.

"Sir," the inovative soldier said as he gave the highest officer present a smart bow. "Please allow me to sneak out of the city and contact his Divinity while you inform the other officers of what must be done."

The officer looked the boy over. "What's your name?"

"Ras'ash Larsa Gulnah," he said with a mischevious smile. The officer raised an eyebrow, curious if he was being joked with. But that did not seem to be the case.

"Very well. Tonight, the Emperor will return and the Ar punished." No one cheered for the sake of keeping appearences, but they all felt it.