Ashitaka walked slowly, letting his head hang down. He cut an unimpressive figure, bundled as he was in rags, strips of cloth waving behind him in the lake breeze. Shuffling across the street, only just dodging an incoming ox-driven cart, Ashitaka glared from under the ragged straw behind him. Good. He'd lost his tail.
The Great Bridge loomed ahead of him, the main thoroughfare between Duan-Zen and the surrounding area. There were other bridges, but it was easier to get lost in the crowd on this one. He picked up his pace and crossed the huge stone construction swiftly, not looking at either the boats passing underneath nor the setting sun in the west. On all sides he was buffeted by the common people returning home for the day, merchants with their emptier carts, and the occasional full cart going to the warcamps, hoping to make some money off the armies housed on the mainland.
Ashitaka also passed the occasional group of soldiers, marked by red symbols on their shoulder pads and chest plates, identifying them as city guards. None gave him a second look, and soon, he was to the main gate. The gatehouse was a small fortress in and of itself, hewn from northern stone, standing as the tallest building in the area. Ashitaka passed through it, not even warranting a glance from the guards stationed there.
Standing a predetermined distance from the fortress's walls, the hovels began. The cries of beggars and shouts of every kind carried through the muggy air, and Ashitaka quickened his pace. He was almost to the warcamps.
To keep his mind off recent revelations, Ashitaka remembered what he'd learned. Eboshi had told him of this area; the population of Duan-Zen had outgrown the island, and the overspill of humanity had settled around the bridges, a buffer between the coastline and the seven armies encamped around it. Each army had once belonged to a warlord ruling an area of the country, but as each was conquered by Emperor Yamasaki and then by his Shogun, their lands and the people with them were required to maintain an army of a specific size, based on the population. Now that all the warlords of notable size had been exterminated, there remained only the outlying unowned areas, and the wildlands.
And to keep individual areas even more under control, their fighting men were staged here, where the Emperor could keep an eye on his generals. Ashitaka shook his head, stepping over a brown puddle. It was outside his comprehension how anyone could rule effectively by fear and suspicion.
He walked over a slight rise, and the plains spread out before him. Square miles of tents, tenements, and cookfires spread before him, sprawling and smoke-ridden. Going over Chen's instructions in his mind, he avoided the main entrance, instead turning left into the shadowed trenches that surrounded each camp. Jumping silently over the rivulet at the bottom, Ashitaka shucked off his rags and dusted off his trousers and boots, slinging the daisho hidden under the expanse of cloth out, binding the katana and wakizashi to his side with a wide belt. He had to look at least a little impressive for Chen's samurai.
Ashitaka climbed the small hill and entered the camp without the guards noticing him. He moved with purpose, hoping his determined stride and relatively clean and respectable clothing kept anyone from inquiring about his intentions. His swords, worn with experience, probably didn't harm anything either.
A month or two ago, Ashitaka would have hated this place and those who lived here, this staging ground for war and violence. But now he saw the warcamp for what it was, simply a place where men were ordered to serve the will of the powerful, virtually enslaved to the cycle of cruelty and hate. It was not these men's fault. Ashitaka's eyes narrowed. It was the fault of Emperor Hiroto Yamasaki, his Shogun, and their entire corrupt system.
Samurai of all varieties sat by their fires, armorless and lax, looking up from their conversations and bowls as he passed, but none made any move to hinder him. Occasionally an officer in painted armor gave him an appraising glance. One in particular, a large man with a naginata held casually stood when he approached.
"Ho there. What's your business?"
Ashitaka stopped, then feigned a look around. "I'm looking for the third division. I have a message for them from Daimyo Kimechi."
The officer paused at the name of a general from another army, then huffed. "That bunch again. They've gotten a lot of attention lately. You know their current commanding officer?"
Ashitaka nodded, grateful for the memory lessons his mother had taught him. "Captain Uruhara, yes."
The officer nodded. "Down this road, third right, the area to the left there. May the Akaihana favor you."
"You as well." Ashitaka nodded to the man, then set off again.
The sun had set, and the clouds glowed orange above him. He found the third division's area easily, a large square of tents and ramshackle buildings adjoining a practice area. Unlike the other areas, with their careless warriors and lack of discipline, it seemed that these men had finished their evening meal already, and while most still sat and talked amongst themselves, they had a different air to them, attentive and vibrant. By the light of large torches, there was even a small number of them sparring and training in formation, led by officers barking orders.
Ashitaka approached the tallest building in the lot, and the guards stationed there stood from their table, leaving cards face-down. They wore armor and eyed him warily, hands going with a casual air to the swords at their sides.
"Who are you here to see?" One asked, the code phrase smoothly delivered.
"The son of the North."
"You are the envoy?"
"Of the East, yes."
They looked to each other, eyes widening slightly, then they both nodded to Ashitaka. One knocked on the door three times, and it was opened. They stepped aside, and Ashitaka stepped past them, into the room beyond.
It was brightly lit, with oil lanterns and a fire burning high in a stone hearth. The room was occupied by five figures, sitting around a low central table. The man at their head rose first. It was Chen, his features solemn.
"Welcome, Prince Ashitaka of the Emishi." Chen bowed low, and as one, the other samurai turned and bowed their heads in respect. They each regarded Ashitaka, who took their approximations in stride.
Chen gestured to a seat on the other side of the table, and Ashitaka took it. "Thank you for allowing me to come," he said shortly.
The samurai to Chen's right nodded, and a pause stretched out. One of the others, a slimmer man, chuckled and put his hands on his folded legs. "I'm just glad to put a face to that impressive title of yours."
"So," Chen stated, his dour expression lightening a little. "It's time for introductions!" He pointed at the sharp-faced man beside him. "This is Daisuke Uruhara. You'll remember him as the voice of caution from my stories."
"Yes, I do."
Daisuke gave Chen a look. "Is that how I'm portrayed?"
"Sounds accurate to me," the second man, wiry and long, leaned over and shoved Daisuke, who sighed. The second man looked to Ashitaka and gave a small wave. "I'm Aji."
"That's not your name," Daisuke stated long-sufferingly.
The man grinned. "I'm Aji."
"I am Hayato." The next man interrupted, before Aji could say any more. He was broad-shouldered and squat, likely shorter than Ashitaka when standing.
As one, they all looked to the last man, who was one of the largest people Ashitaka had ever seen. He looked back at them for a dour moment. "Fubatsu," he growled, the words seeming to be strained through his massively thick beard. He almost resembled some of the men from Ashitaka's village.
Ashitaka looked back to Chen. "I thought you said there were five lieutenants."
He coughed once, uncomfortable. "Miyo didn't accept the plan." He raised a hand to forestall Ashitaka's questions. "Peacefully! He put in his transfer request this morning, with as many of the foot soldiers who wanted to follow him. Currently, 183 of them remain, and are willing to hear out what you have to say." He sighed, then met Ashitaka's eyes. "I didn't make them promise anything, you understand."
Hayato nodded. "We will listen to what you have to say, prince."
"Treason is a tall order," Aji said, eyes shifting back and forth. "But Chen's our man, and we'll do a lot for him."
"Speak." Fubatsu rumbled.
Ashitaka took a deep breath, trying to sort his thoughts, pushing back the mountain of anxiety and fear, denying the frustration that came with it. These men were not pledged to him, and he needed to earn their trust before they'd do anything. He instantly hated himself for thinking that way, for making people his tools, but with a sudden burst of horror, he realized that it was necessary. It was the only way to accomplish his goals and still keep his sanity intact. Was this how Eboshi saw the world, as a place of things that could help her and those that couldn't?
But he'd done it before. He'd guided people with his words, to the places that he desired. He'd done it to San, to Chen, and even Eboshi to an extent. And now, he needed to do it again. Ashitaka realized then he'd truly do anything to achieve his goal.
It was frightening.
And freeing.
"I will start at the beginning. I grew up with a girl named Kaya."