The Shogun was dead.

  Henji Tetsuya was seething, but not a single flicker of rage passed beyond his dark eyes. His face was relaxed and emotionless. His breaths were gentle and full. He rode amid the long procession and swayed lifelessly with each slow stride of his horse. He appeared dead, but inside he was a blazing fire contained only by sheer exertion of will.

  He had not received the kind of hero's welcome that he expected. It was not the way that he, the vanquisher of the barbarian horde, had imagined returning to the New Capital. He had achieved what was once thought to be impossible, a decisive victory over an enemy many times larger than them. He had saved the Islands from foreign domination, violence, and enslavement. It was the greatest military victory the Islands had seen since the days of the Emperor. He expected pomp, adulation, even ecstasy. There was almost nothing that could overshadow such an accomplishment. Yet here he was, somber amid a dismal funeral procession, for the Shogun was dead.

  As he passed through the western gates of the New Capital, he lifted his eyes to those who rode on before him. He was not so far behind the leader of the procession as to mistake her figure. She wore the black robes of one in mourning, and her head was continually bowed. The commoners laid down flowers before her as she approached them, whispering words of bereavement.

  “Ishihara…” Henji thought, his gaze darkening.

  He had received word of the Shogun’s untimely demise on his march back from Shinohara Beach, where the great victory over the barbarians took place. It took time to cleanse the shoreline of any evidence of their unnatural assistance. After that, he waited for the tale of his deeds to grow in the minds of the people. Nothing he could imagine would ever overshadow such a victory. Nothing except the death of the most powerful man on the Islands and his liege lord. The Shogun was dead.

  “It could not be helped…” Henji wondered. “Or could it?”

  It took him some time to come to terms with the news and its implications. With Mashige Hideyo dead, there was now a vast power vacuum left in his absence, one that would certainly be exploited. The Shogun’s prime consort, Lady Ishihara, was preparing to bear his child, but it would be years before that offspring would come of age. Surely there would be political upheaval, and the remaining daimyo would begin to maneuver for greater power. Some may even consider overthrowing the Mashige clan and claim the Shogunate for themselves.

  Henji had keenly observed the other great daimyo with their profuse displays of lamentation. “They may be trying their best to hide it, but they are already plotting,” he observed. “They are already envisioning themselves carrying the Shogun’s gilded sword.”

  He peered about at the people crowding around them, most quiet and mournful, with the occasional wail of lament. These people had come to bid their Shogun farewell and had a right to be somber. They knew all too well the dire implications. Without a strong leader, the Islands might fall into chaos once again, rekindling the War of Ashes, where an untold number of their own perished in the flames of war. They had just as much to lose, and little to gain by his death. They loved Mashige for the stability he brought. It was probable that they were mourning this fact more than anything.

  The procession returned to the city from the site of cremation, half a day’s journey from the castle grounds. There was a temporary funeral site established until the great mausoleum was to be built. Lady Ishihara promised that a structure the likes of which the Islands had never seen to be constructed to house the remains of the mighty Mashige lords. Until that time, the former Shogun rested in the remains of an abandoned Truist temple, repurposed for his burial.

  “How ironic,” thought Henji with a sneer.

  The official cause of death propagated by the Mashige officials was that the Shogun was murdered. This came as no surprise to Henji, who knew that many wanted the Shogun dead. However, the named murderer was Doctor Mori, the Shogun’s personal physician. This came as quite a shock, as he was one of Hideyo’s oldest and most trusted servants. He had served the Mashige clan for years without even the faintest hint of disloyalty.

  However, when it was discovered that Mori-sensei had recently been banished by his lord just a day before the murder, a clear motive was established. Perhaps the old doctor was embarrassed, perhaps he was upset, or perhaps he just had nothing else to do in his old age.

  Lady Ishihara guessed at another motive and spread it amongst the people through her army of courtesans. Mori was secretly a Truist monk, and this action might have been revenge for the mistreatment of his people by the Mashige Shogunate over the years. The Truists would be an appropriate scapegoat, as they were already despised by much of the populace. This story, true or not, would surely increase the persecution against them.

  “The Truists may mourn him more than any of us,” Henji reasoned, “For they will pay the most dearly for his death.”

  The procession continued well on into the afternoon and when dusk began to fall the those who remained reached the great doors of the Shogun’s elaborate palace, sitting below Taka-no-jo, the Hawk’s Perch. There would soon be another great council, for there was much to do and sort out now that the Shogun had passed. Henji dismounted and briefly stretched, for it had been a long time in the saddle. His eyes darted around to inspect the once bereaved faces, now set in greedy anticipation.

  “The wolves are gathering. They are hungry.”

  All made their way into the heart of the palace and entered the great hall, where there was an ornate table laid out and silk zabuton for sitting. The room was massive, but sparsely lit, giving the proceedings an ominous feel.

  The great daimyo lords gathered quietly and then sat and waited silently for the meeting to commence. Silence lingered, and the only thing that could be heard was Lady Ishihara whispering to her subordinates, of which there were many. Sake was brought out and at last, when all the tension of the room seemed to rise to a climax, the Lady sat down at the head of the table.

  She did not speak for some time but looked down as if lost in thought or memory, and eventually, even Henji grew agitated at this most frustrating pause. He shifted in his seat only slightly, but for one so controlled, this was a rare moment of lapse.

  At once the Lady looked up and peered around the table. There were fewer great daimyo than she expected. Besides Henji there was the Buta, Tsuru, and ōgi. A look of disappointment marred the Lady’s pristine face.

  “You swore an oath,” she began, her words seemed to cut through the silence like a blade. “Everyone here and even those who are not swore an oath. Do you remember it?”

  This was an unusual way to begin such proceedings. Henji anticipated another expansive eulogy or a long-winded retelling of the Shogun’s mighty exploits. But Ishihara had cut straight to the heart. This made the other great daimyo uncomfortable. They glanced around nervously and some coughed to hide their disdain. They were still relics of the old ways, where vital details came only after a satisfactory accumulation of flowery words.

  “Perilous,” Henji thought, “She had better be careful.”

  “Aye,” Buta rumbled, being one who also favored plain speech. “That we did. But he is now gone…”

  “Yet his house remains,” Ishihara shot back, her hand resting gently upon her abdomen. “You all swore an oath to the Mashige clan, to protect it as vassals, to serve it as you expect your men to serve you. Did you not all swear this oath at the end of the War of Ashes?”

  The Buta stretched his neck to the side and frowned. “We did.”

  “And confirmed it at the last great council?”

  At this, the rest of the daimyo slowly nodded.

  “So, will you betray your oaths and raise your hands against my child? For that is what I see in your hearts!” There was a tinge of anger in her voice, as her wrath was on the very verge of spilling over.

  There was silence.

  At this moment Henji felt it was his turn to speak. “If I may…” he ventured quietly.

  Ishihara eyed him and then nodded.

  “Those of us who are here have paid customary homage to the former Shogun and his house, at least outwardly. However, there are some missing from this table. Perhaps we should consider them first.”

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  “Prudent,” the Prime Consort agreed, calming slightly. “Where to begin? The Akaii offered their condolences and reaffirmed their loyalty and partnership with the Mashige Shogunate. Everyone knows that the lord of Akaii is on his deathbed, and such a voyage might kill the poor man. Yet this is the second council where their absence has been felt. Just the other day, I demanded that a more capable heir be selected, and when this is done, that person will pay homage to our late Shogun, and me, personally.”

  The daimyo nodded their heads, in agreement with this assessment.

  “The lords Tora and Ryu were destroyed during the battle of Shinohara Beach. It is said that they turned on each other during the battle, rekindling their old feud.”

  “What fools,” Buta chuckled. “Then they got what they always desired, the death of the other.”

  “Though both sent their sympathies, the heirs of each clan are not with us today to mourn our beloved Shogun, for they say that they are still mourning their own respective predecessors. Yet I hear that they are secretly preparing once again for war against each other. I am of the mind to let them have it. Let these two clans butcher each other until there is nothing left. I do not want to waste any more of our soldiers to subdue them.”

  The other daimyo consented grimly.

  “Of Usagi?” the aquiline Tsuru asked, his face contracting in a scowl.

  “He sent many poems of bereavement but regrets that he is too frail to travel. In his stead, he sent his twin sons for the ceremony. As they are not quite of age, I did not agree to let them join us in this council,” the Lady explained.

  “He looked well enough at our last council,” Tsuru hissed. “I doubt his loyalty.”

  “As do I,” Ishihara agreed.

  “And Lord Kagi?” the quiet ōgi interjected. “What of him?”

  “Of him, we have also received no word,” the Lady answered sharply, “And I do not expect one to come.”

  This was followed by another long pause.

  “I will tell it to you plain,” the Lady finally said with an air of authority. “The entire Mashige clan has thrown their support behind the child and me. They will not see the legacy of their house crumble to dust. I also have the support of many of the lesser lords, who are looking to rise and unseat many of you and your kin. If you want another bloody war, I am not afraid to give you one.”

  “That is a blatant threat!” Tsuru cried, turning red. “There should be no plot of violence against a great lord, the penalty for such is death!”

  “If you are not for me, then you plan to do me harm,” Ishihara returned. “What is the difference if it is said aloud or concealed within? You might as well tell me now that you plan to destroy mother and child. And if so, then why should I give you the chance?”

  Lord Tsuru appeared horrified “Surely you wouldn’t harm me in your own house! That would be the epitome of dishonor!”

  “My lord was murdered within his very bed chamber! Speak not to me of dishonor! I shall not see his heir lose his rightful inheritance! I am a woman, lord Tsuru, and since my honor is different than yours. It is a fearful thing.”

  Lord Tsuru turned white and seemed to shrink in the faint glow of the lamps.

  The Lady’s fury suddenly abated, and her features turned soft once again. “Forgive me, Lord Tsuru, and the rest of you. You see, I am still distraught. I loved Hideyo more than anything and I shall never see him again. I wish to extend to all of you here an offer of peace. Work with me, help me to continue my lord’s vision for these islands, and you will be rewarded beyond measure. I do not intend to open any further seats to lesser lords if you all pledge to serve my child as you did my lord. There shall be five of us, six if Usagi holds true. Your lands will increase, as will your influence. You shall have greater autonomy than under my late master. After all we have been through, must we fight one another once again? I do not desire it.”

  “Neither do I,” Henji said, meeting Ishihara’s gaze. “We managed to escape destruction at the hands of the barbarians. We should unite and grow stronger, lest they quickly try again.”

  Buta scoffed. “It appears that you won quite the victory over there, Henji-kun. But I have yet to meet anyone who can tell me what actually happened over there.”

  “It was a pyrrhic victory,” Tetsuya answered quietly. “Few returned from that battle on either side.”

  “Indeed…” Buta murmured, folding his arms across his barrel chest. He peered over at the Lady and then around at the others. “I shall fall in line,” he said at last. “Though I must admit that I was growing hungry for battle. Yet this doesn’t appear to be a winnable fight. And you, my Lady, you seem to have a steady hand to guide the ship until the heir of Mashige comes of age. I did not appraise you correctly at our first meeting. Forgive me.”

  “You are forgiven for your error,” Ishihara replied with a gentle smile. “Though do not be too disheartened. There undoubtedly will be some fighting left to do.” Her eyes fell upon the stoic lord of the ōgi next.

  He remained still for a moment, his face not revealing one way or the other. At last, he opened his mouth to speak. “I am yours to command, my Lady.”

  Ishihara bowed her head. “I thank you, lord.”

  The Lord of Cranes, Tsuru was the last in the room to decide. He was still smarting from the Lady’s harsh words but also realized that it was useless at this point to oppose her. He merely shrugged. “It was my intent from the beginning to remain with you, my lady,” he said. “You need not worry about me. Yet there is one thing I must ask. Who are we to consult with about manners of state, now that the Shogun is gone, and the child is not yet born?”

  “You will consult with me,” Ishihara said firmly. “I will act as Regent until the child is of age.”

  “My Lady, surely you must be fatigued, being with child. And, what about your business? I mean to say, this is all rather unheard of. How will the people respond?”

  “I care not about the people. If my vassals remain loyal to me, I shall have nothing to fear. With your collective wisdom, I shall not fail. I will hand over the operation of my district to my administrators, so do not worry, Lord Tsuru, you will still be able to visit.”

  Tsuru flushed at this subtle jab but did not respond.

  “I do not intend to be idle until the child comes of age,” she continued. “There were many plans that the Shogun discussed with me in the privacy of our chambers that I will work to see come to fruition. Now that the barbarians are eliminated, I will seek the unequivocal unity of these Islands. You all will have a great part in that. I shall continue to use industry and innovation to improve the lives of our people, and I will rebuild our decimated military. I will create a nation to be reckoned with, that I can promise.”

  This seemed to sit well with the other daimyo, who if they did have any reservations, made sure to keep them hidden.

  “Toast with me, my lords,” Ishihara said with a seductive grin. “For this will be an auspicious beginning.”

  Each raised their cup and cried out, “Kampai!” before drinking in full.

  “We shall consult with one another tomorrow about what is to be done about Kagi, the young heirs Tora and Ryu, and the lost province of Akaii. This has been a long and wearisome day. Rest and we shall council tomorrow afternoon. Until then, good night.”

  At this, the great council was adjourned, and the daimyo rose and departed for the outer baileys.

  “Lord Henji, a word if I may,” Ishihara interjected, as he made for the door.

  Henji stopped, while the others eyed him suspiciously. “Of course, my lady,” came his response.

  The others paused as if waiting to hear what was to be said, but it was obvious that the Lady desired a private word. They left the great hall of the palace grumbling but cowed.

  Henji sat down once again, but this time next to Ishihara. “I am impressed,” he said quietly. “They are already yours.”

  Ishihara smiled. “Not quite, but they soon shall be. Buta and ōgi were looking for weakness, and they will find none in me. I will use them against my enemies as one wields a sword.”

  Henji nodded in assent. “Tsuru seemed a bit displeased. More so than usual.”

  “He despises the fact that his new liege lord is a woman, but he will grow accustomed to it. He will always take the path of least risk to himself. That is how he survived the war.”

  “He has no honor,” Henji growled.

  “And he needs none. I do not require honor. I require obedience.” At this, the Lady’s face revealed a cruel grin.

  Henji did not seem so pleased. “It may all work itself out, but this was not part of the plan. The Shogun was to live, at least for a while longer.”

  “Our plan will work even better now. Do you not trust me?” Ishihara asked, taken aback. “Was it not I who helped you win your great victory?”

  Henji forced himself to remain calm. He knew that the Lady was dangerous when she talked like this. “I trust you implicitly. It just came as a surprise.”

  Ishihara frowned. “You know, I thought that the first tenet of the shinobi was that you are never to be caught off-guard. Is that not so?”

  Henji smiled wryly. “Plan for all eventualities.”

  “Yes, that one. Well, this had to happen. He was growing too bold, too stubborn. He defied me. He insisted that the filthy girl live. I had no choice.”

  “What girl?” asked Henji.

  “The swordsman’s daughter. The one who heard of our secret rendezvous before the battle.”

  “She is dead then?”

  A strange look came over the Lady, one that surprised even Henji for he did not think he had ever seen it before. It was the faintest glimmer of anxiety.

  “What happened?” he pressed.

  “She managed to escape,” said the Lady with a hint of reluctance.

  Henji could not hide his amazement. “How? She was held within this very keep!”

  The Lady glowered back at him. “I will take care of this mistake by myself. You must trust me in this as well.” The way she said the word mistake made him both uncomfortable and afraid at the same time.

  He bowed his head submissively.

  “I do have one task for you, my love…”

  Henji never liked it when she spoke like this. It always portended violence. “Command me, my lady,” he said dryly.

  “Now that we are at this stage of our grand design, we must eliminate all possible threats, no matter how seemingly trivial they may be. Gintaro must die.”

  “You know there is the slightest chance he might complete the Shogun’s quest,” Henji countered. “If so, perhaps it would be wise to let him alone, and then slay him.”

  “So, you too, think it can be done?”

  Henji considered for a moment. “Perhaps. The Sword of the Emperor would be a mighty prize indeed. Gintaro would give it freely for a chance to save his daughter. That I know of him if nothing else.”

  The Lady gently laid her hand upon Henji’s and lowered her voice to a whisper. “Be careful, my love, for you meddle in affairs you do not fully understand. Kill Gintaro and return to me. I am now Regent, and you will be my great general. Eventually, we shall wed as promised and rule as one.”

  “And the child?”

  “Our child shall be Shogun. Our line will dominate the Islands and the world far into the future. You will be the sire of lords.”

  Henji lowered his head. “But they will call him Mashige.”

  “Would that they called them Henji? For that is not your true name either.”

  When Henji did not reply, Ishihara extended her soft hand to his chin and lifted his head so that his eyes met hers.

  “Extinguish the lights. When I asked you to stay, I desired more than just a word.”

  Henji’s eyes began to glitter in the soft lamplight. “As you command, my lady.”

  And the Shogun was dead.