AN: Yes, I've decided to continue this. As I was picking at it, Dais was like "Oh hey! Character development!" and I was all "whut" and now I have quite a few chapters written (that need heavy editing, admittedly). Read, enjoy, and please review.
Disclaimer: ahahahahahaha.
Chapter 2
Dais had decided that if he wanted to live in the human world he had to anesthetize himself to what had changed in the centuries since he had been away, so that he wasn't so obviously out-of-place, or, perhaps, out-of-time. On his previous trips into Tokyo he had used some of the Dynasty's influence to drive the humans out of the surrounding area and make the 'electronics' cease working. However, he was now planning on going into the human world without the buffer of the Dynasty, and it made him oddly nervous.
Stop it, he chided himself as he looked at the portal that opened to a side-alley that would lead into the bustling streets of Tokyo. You're a warlord of the Dynasty. Reticence in the face of a challenge is unbecoming.
He looked at himself and grimaced. The first order of business would be to get appropriate clothing. Getting it wouldn't be too difficult, especially with his illusions, but it was a matter of how long he could sustain a particular illusion and move around quietly in his armor. While it was true that something inherent in the armor made his movement nearly silent, his weapons tended to increase his size significantly.
He sighed, called on his armor, and stepped through the portal, wrapping 'invisibility' around himself (in reality, it was a simple trick on a person's mind—make them look slightlyto the side, ignoring his presence).
Before, because of the Dynasty's presence, the throb of life had been silenced, but without invoking the darker power, the cacophony immediately assaulted Dais. The chatter of humans. The deep thrum of 'subways' moving beneath his feet, the clatter of above-ground 'trains', the honks of 'cars' and the revving of 'bus' engines. 'Planes' roared overhead, music was pumped out of ground-level stores, 'phones' rang incessantly, and 'bicycle' bells sounded out to warn pedestrians. High-heeled shoes clacked against the concrete as 'sneakers' created dead thuds at each step. Dais could barely hear himself breathe.
Although he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to breathe. The air was tainted with a miasma of smoke, exhaust, garbage, the putrid human-scent, unknown food, perfumes and colognes…it was overwhelming. He was glad he had his mask down—it saved him from the assault slightly.
Dais walked silently to the end of the alley, sidestepping someone passed out against the side of a building that seemed to touch the dome of the sky.
Oh, he had known how many humans they had taken into the Dynasty when they invaded, but he had been distant from it. Afterall, they were nothing more than cattle, a resource for the Dynasty and nothing more. But now, there was no distance and the press of bodies was suffocating.
Dais took a few quick steps back. He hadn't seen so many people anywhere but on the battlefield—no, perhaps there were even more here. That they seemed to ignore each other completely was absolutely astonishing. To be surrounded with so much life and to be able to treat the overcrowding like it was nothing!
He cautiously approached the edge of the darkness again.
There was so much color, too. Over-bright colors, some that he had no name for, were sported on human bodies, spelled out foreign words on buildings, reflected against windows and metal. Bizarre patterns covered countless surfaces, morphed lines and stylized flowers, materials that shimmered and glittered and moved in manners that made Dais dizzy.
There were foreigners in the mass of humans, people that seemed bleached compared to his countrymen. Perhaps the sun was weaker where they lived, and the deeper darkness made them pale. Or maybe it was so bright that it leeched all the color from them. But, then, what of the people with deep brown skin? Where would they come from? Sure, he had seen the diversity of humanity in pictures, had seen names of countries thrown around, but he couldn't begin to figure out how to place them in his world-view.
The human world was much more manageable when under the Dynasty's influence than when they were allowed to run it on their own.
Dais took a deep breath and closed his eye. This feeling of weakness wasn't him. He would center himself and move on—he needed the clothes to blend in, and once he had them he could desensitize himself to being surrounded by such a volume of humans.
He slunk out into the crowd and stuck to the edges, people unconsciously moving around his cloaked form. The moment he recognized a department store, he shadowed a gaggle of girls in before the door could close behind them. He moved slowly to the 'Men's' section and lightly touched a pair of 'jeans'. He wanted to rub the bridge of his nose in frustration. He had no idea what 'size' he would be, and wasn't entirely sure what was appropriate for the age-range he looked like.
Dais heaved a silent sigh and looked at a posed fake man nearby. Surely it was modeling the latest 'fashion', and would therefore give him an idea.
Dais eventually chose a few pants and jeans that appeared like they would fit him, picked up a few shirts, and 'underwear'. He had no idea what he would look like when all was said and done, but he figured it would be an…experience.
He extended the illusion to the clothes he had bundled over his arms and quickly vanished back into a Dynasty portal he opened. It was an acute relief once he was back in the comfortable quiet of the castle and he let his armor fall away, leaving him in his subarmor with human clothing balled in his arms.
He was walking back to his suite when Kayura turned a corner. "There you are Dais, I've been—what are those?"
Dais kept his face impassive. "The beginning steps in a plan."
"Right," Kayura said slowly and fingered the cloth before Dais jerked it away. "Steps in a plan."
"Is there something you need?" Dais drawled. "I thought that you had everything in control."
"Don't be fresh with me, warlord," Kayura responded sweetly. "If I truly needed your help, I would ask for it."
"Then why were you looking for me?" Dais asked and shifted the bundle of clothing in his arms.
Kayura let out a long, low breath and said, "Was wondering if you had gone to join the others already."
Dais shook his head and shifted the clothes again. "If you should ever need help, I'll be in my suite," Dais drawled and passed her—his arms were getting tired.
He was relieved when he could dump his clothes on his futon. They had been heavier than anticipated, even with the strength gifted him by his armor.
Dais shifted to his non-combat clothing and knelt down beside his bedding. He carefully laid out each piece and examined it, poking at the buttons and zippers, figuring out how everything worked together. He figured that it would be easier to determine if the shirts fit or not, and so shrugged off his haori and pushed the top of his kimono down so his chest and arms were bare. He picked up what the magazines called a T-Shirt and tried to pull it on over his head, fumbling to get his arms and head through the appropriate holes. He decided that it was too tight and so tossed it away from the pile of yet-to-be-tried-on pieces.
The first button-down shirt he retrieved did fit, although he personally thought it was too much effort and looked slightly silly. Still, it was a muted color and that was important—he didn't need to be wearing the ultra-bright colors he saw some humans wearing; that just seemed obnoxious for the sake of being obnoxious. He found two T-shirts that fit him and made mental note of the size on the 'tag' on the back of the fabric.
He put the button-down shirt back on before untying his obi and letting the hakama and the rest of his kimono fall to the floor. He picked up the 'underwear' package and, after fighting with the packaging, managed to get a pair free. The underwear felt very strange, but he figured that it would be better than letting his junk be rubbed raw by the unfamiliar fabric of modern pants.
The pants were much harder to figure out than the shirts, and Dais was glad that he had chosen a broader range of pant sizes than shirt sizes. Out of the pants pile, he managed to find two that fit relatively comfortably.
At least I have something to go off of now, he thought and looked at himself, pulling at the waistband of the jeans in discomfort. And I can attempt to interact and move within that hive.
Dais tossed all the clothing that didn't fit him into his closet, deciding to figure out what to do with it later. Perhaps it would fit Sekhmet or Kale. Or Kayura.
Dais ran a hand through his hair, and his fingers caught on the band of his eyepatch.
Sunglasses? He wondered. They would hide his eyes and protect his one remaining good eye, so were probably worth consideration. And I suppose I can dye my hair, he thought, pulling a white strand into his vision.
All this for what? He wondered as he suppressed a scowl. Do I really want to live in the human world? I wasn't fond of humans when I was one—400 years will not be long enough to change human nature.
Dais looked at himself again and shook his head. I shouldn't allow those three to put ideas in my head. This is nonsense.
Dais changed out of the modern clothes and tossed them into his closet as well before he closed the sliding door with finality. He put his usual garments back on and smoothed the cloth over his chest as a frown pulled at his lips.
Part of him wanted to go to the Human World. Part of him said he was an idiot to even contemplate it. He wasn't human—not anymore. Maybe never again.
There was also the disconcerting idea that he might become so steeped in the illusion he sought to create that it would slowly become his reality. But wouldn't that be a crowning achievement in his craft? He was, if anything, very thorough in his work (which was why it had taken Sekhmet three years to find his way out of a rather vindictive illusion Dais had crafted). If he could convince those he interacted with that he hadn't spent the last 400-plus years thinking of them as nothing more than an expendable resource without using his armor…well, it would say something both about humanity and him.
Still, he'd hate to prove Kale and Sekhmet right. Anyway, his duty was to the Dynasty and there were more than enough problems that demanded his attention—Kayura was good at putting down insurrections, but Dais tried to stop any conflicts before they came to fruition. It would also be gratifying to see them come crawling back to the Dynasty so he could shove a smug 'I told you so' in their faces.
In truth, it wouldn't be too difficult to resist going to the human world. Yes, it was now a preoccupation, but if there was one thing Dais had mastery over, it was his own mind—he refused to allow anyone to ensnare the Master of Illusion in one. Therefore, he'd be able to starve off his curiosity to something manageable.
He went over to his desk and picked up a scroll, breaking the seal after taking a moment to make sure that there was no trap attached to it—yes, Sekhmet wasn't around anymore, but that didn't mean that Dais' life was safe.
Dais sat down, took out the key to the code, and began to slowly work his way through the report.
He had a feeling that none of the warlords or Kayura really understood what his position in the Dynasty hierarchy really was. He was a Warlord, yes, but he had also served as Talpa's spymaster. The Dynasty was very large and full of mostly stupid but greedy beings, and someone needed to keep tabs on it all. As Talpa didn't trust very well, he had assigned Dais, his Warlord of Illusion—and the person who had served him longest—to make sure that everything in the Dynasty ran smoothly and according to Talpa's designs.
It had been an interesting logistical problem, initially. The turnover on the lower tiers of power was swift, and humanity was constantly expanding the Dynasty with their negative emotions, which meant that Dais had to work very hard to find stable places to attach the beginning of his network. Then, it was a matter of coercing people to become his minions and finding ways to ensure their loyalty.
It had taken the better part of a century and a half to finally establish his web, but since then it had simply been a matter of tugging on the feelers and making sure the minions remembered whom they served.
His web had undergone a significant upheaval and unraveling due to Talpa's defeat and the subsequent surge in petty warlords grasping at the power void. He had regained most of his moorings, but some of them didn't sink as deep as he would have liked, and that made him both displeased and nervous.
He had also lost many spies in the chaos, but those were obviously the less skilled ones. There were always more minions to be had.
He looked at the decoded report and frowned. Aggression between most of the smaller warlords had diminished, primarily because the Netherworld was split between four ruling powers (five if Dais included himself and Kayura). This wasn't a good development. Yes, it gave him fewer targets he had to keep an eye on, but it meant that he would have to work harder at it.
Life was easier when the petty power-mongers could keep each other occupied—now that factions had coalesced, he had to pay even closer attention.
It meant that he would have to go and infiltrate the ranks on his own, if just to find dissenters who would be willing to work for him just to cause the downfall of the faction they were unwillingly a part of.
Dais destroyed the decoded report and stood with a sigh. He wouldn't bother telling Kayura where he was going, just in case. It was better for his movements to be known only to himself, especially in a delicate matter such as the one he was about to attend to.
Dais summoned his armor and his good eye narrowed. Slowly, the structure and color of it shifted until it appeared to be nothing more than a typical Dynasty soldier's. He left his room and stalked through the palace corridors, pleased that no-one looked his way—and was even more amused how Kayura just walked past him without throwing even a second glance his way.
He left into the courtyard, summoned a horse, and took off towards where the first faction's base of operations was.
A leader who ruled through fear was only the leader as long as the fear didn't turn to anger. Talpa had initially ruled through fear alone, but the ruthless slaughter of his enemies had convinced most of the Dynasty that following him was better than being dead—that Talpa had also gained the support of the Netherspirits had solidified his hold on the Dynasty. Along with the superior strength of his warlords, he had ruled without question, although not without challenge.
Sekhmet had very much enjoyed taking care of any and all challengers.
Dais was both amused and annoyed that the most of the different factions decided to use grandiose titles to distinguish themselves, and he knew that he'd eventually develop a code for each of them. This entailed using names that he usually reserved for Sekhmet, but the man wasn't around to protest such.
The first faction called themselves the Devil's Children.
The second faction called themselves the Ogres.
The third faction called themselves the Shadow Clans.
The fourth faction called themselves the Army of the Rising Sun.
Each of them occupied particular terrain that helped to define what strengths and weaknesses in resources and manpower that they would suffer from; who would seek territory for materials, who would have the most to lose if caught unprepared, who would conquer for manpower, who had the most to lose overall, and who had the least.
He already had contacts among the Children, Ogres, and Clans but found himself woefully uninformed about the Army. Nonetheless, he needed to pay the spies in the other factions a visit and to generate new ones to make sure his older ones behaved.
The Devil's Children faction controlled a steady source of ore and water, but had limited access to other supplies. Dais had entered their ranks in the guise of a captured soldier, and an unremarkable one at that. He had discovered that most proud warriors didn't watch their tongues around perceived weaker opponents, since they were sure of their superiority.
According to idle gossiping, Dais learned that they had either recruited or dragooned some of the best warriors, armorers, and weaponsmiths into their fold. The head of the Children was presumptuous enough to dub himself Akuma, and controlled his troops primarily through intimidation and sheer strength. However, no warrior was invincible, so Dais was sure that it would take only pressure in the right places for the Children to collapse into internal strife that would tear the faction apart; however, doing so would disperse the warriors to the other factions, and Dais didn't mind having martial power concentrated in one place. Admittedly, strength of arms wasn't everything, and that would also be the downfall of the Children. It was simply a waiting game. Hopefully there would be conflicts between the other groups that would cull the weaker warriors for him. Dais always preferred that he not have to do any work.
The Shadow Clans were guided by an entity that Dais hadn't unearthed a name for, although he had a suspicion that the true power was elsewhere. However, one could generate only so many figureheads. Encouraging subversive behavior within the ranks would help hasten the demise of the faction, and Dais had found at least 9 peons willing to betray their faction. Getting rid of all the brains, which the faction seemed built upon, would leave them without the tactical advantage that they needed. They had, fortunately for Dais, chosen an area that wasn't easily protected, although it did afford them more resources than any of the other factions. Still, get rid of the intelligence that kept the Clans a step ahead and they would fall victim to the others who lusted after their position.
The Ogres were more worrisome than the others due to the presence of a bureaucracy that suggested a sophisticated level of organization. Admittedly, that was needed since they had picked a well-protected area that was, however, scarce on the things needed to sustain an army. If given a chance, the Ogres might be able to build a country, a civilization, and Dais very much wanted to avoid that. To his delight, bureaucracy left a great many loopholes and opportunities to plant seeds of confusion and doubt. Tangle the red tape enough and frustrate the soldiers and citizens…well, it would take longer and he'd probably have to give them more ground than the others, but he could bring them down, too.
The Army was the faction that made Dais wary. The Army appeared to be the 'smallest' faction, but Dais was almost entirely certain that was a lie. The 'soldiers' were far too well-equipped to be simple grunts, the few structures that were built were built to last, and they watched everything, watched him, too carefully. What was presented was a small force meant to simply assert a presence in Dynasty politics, but it was a carefully constructed lie that only the truly observant would see through. They were sitting on a pile of resources that the other three would discount, they had spies in the other factions, they were aggressively recruiting, and they were cunning, careful. The leader was never referred to directly, and the way that they danced around even mentioning the person made Dais itch. There was something familiar about everything, Dais felt he could almost see a shadow of his tactics in what they were doing. He knew he had no chance to find any spy in the Army, as it was likely that any one who he recruited would instead go back to their boss, whomever he or she was, and tell them about Dais' attempt, and he'd rather keep any advantage he had.
Although he wasn't sure he even had any advantage. He had no sources, his web somehow didn't permeate into the Army. He'd have to contact one of his best spies and have her be "recruited" into the fourth faction. He hated to take her away from her current assignment, but he had two others keeping track of movement between the Dynasty and the other Nether-realms that were now intertwining.
She'll probably be happier with this assignment anyway, he thought and turned his horse in the direction of her post. It's even higher stakes.
As Dais rode through the undulating terrain of the Dynasty he couldn't help the small smile that quirked at his lips. There was something to be said about being out in the field instead of waiting at the center of his web. Sure, he'd have a pile of reports waiting for him when he got back, and a likely smug Kayura, who would incorrectly assume that he had left for the Human World, but it was worth it.
The off-hand reminder of the Human World nagged him as he rode, no matter how much he tried to shove it out of his head. His duty was to the Dynasty first, himself second. The Human World could wait until he resolved the issue at hand.
He wasn't sure how long that would take.
He could tell that he was coming close to the boundary from how the environment seemed caught in flux, unable to clearly decide whether it wanted to continue to be the Dynasty or become something different. He passed a few bizarre corpses that his horse shied away from, even though he stopped at each of them.
Some were human-looking. Others Dais couldn't find a shred of something in his experience that he could apply. Each wore different armor, if it had armor; used different weapons, if it used weapons; had different faces, limbs, and Dais only wished he could find out what language they spoke, how they thought, how dangerous they were. His curiosity had to wait, however, and he had a feeling he would end up encountering at least one kind in his progress through the Dynasty. It was inevitable.
Dais brought his horse up to a stop at the base of a small hill and tied it to a tree before climbing up the pile of rocks that were actually cleverly disguised stairs he had made. He reached the apex and let out a long, low whistle, not as a signal, but out of surprise.
It was easy to see how the Dynasty interacted with the other Nether-realms that sought to impinge on it—the bunches and whorls and desolation caused by the friction. Half-corpses of both Dynasty soldiers and other things littered the area even more densely, and the acrid tang on Nether-spirit magic hung in the air.
Dais felt his spy behind him and smiled faintly. Dais only barely avoided a strike to his left and immediately blocked the follow-up attack. He caught the woman's ankle before she could bring her leg back down from her kick and let his illusion fall away.
Dais let the woman's ankle go and she dropped to one knee, a fist going over her heart, although he could tell she was annoyed.
"I should have known," she said in a faintly echoing alto.
"You're getting bored."
She stood and looked out at the quasi-battlefield. "I don't know if bored is the right word."
"The Dynasty's been broken into five pieces."
"Oh?"
"Kayura and I retain most of the control, and two of the other four pieces are going to fold soon anyway."
"And the other two?"
"I already have agents in one. I need you to infiltrate the other."
Tano stood, her eyes glowing gold beneath the deep shadow of her helm. "You think it's a worthy challenge?"
Dais crossed his arms. "Would I be asking you if I didn't?"
She inclined her head slightly and the golden glow faded. She clicked the claws that tipped her gauntlets together and said, "So?"
"What is here is only the surface of a much larger organization. Find out what that larger organization is: what they want, their structure, their leadership, the extent of their power, the danger level that they pose. You should know what to look for."
"I could die."
"You always could."
"Contact the same as usual?"
"This is where you'll find them," Dais said and handed her a small scroll. "There are a few details there, too, mostly about the structure and recruitment processes I observed. It's not much, but you're smart."
She took it with the pads of her fingers and hummed.
"I leave this to you," Dais said and let his illusion reform.
Tano vanished and Dais waited for a few minutes, watching the barriers clash and whirl around each other. Once he felt her finally leave, he sighed softly.
She was reliable and extremely thorough, yes, but her loyalty was always conditional, as were most of his spies. If she sensed any weakness in him…well, their relationship would come to a quick and bloody end.
He walked back down the stairs and mounted his horse. He turned it back towards the palace and began the return journey by way of the rest of the Dynasty he hadn't checked out recently.
While most of the Dynasty was, indeed, soldiers and nether-spirits, there were more way than that to manifest negative emotion than just those, which was why he passed homesteads tended by creatures that most Japanese would consider mythological.
The Dynasty, where not in conflict, could actually be quite scenic—certainly more beautiful than the Human World. The golds and deep blues, the richness of the land, the clarity in the air were all far superior to the place that humans had polluted.
He was about to return to a straight path to the palace when he was forced to skid to a stop to avoid running into a group of unfamiliar soldiers.
He immediately unhitched his scythes and lashed out, sinking the blades into the surrounding environment. Webbing shot out from the impact points and enveloped the soldiers, thus binding them. Dais smiled smugly beneath his mask at how they fought against his web. It was always satisfying to see how much faster they were captured when they struggled.
Once well ensnared, Dais wove an illusion into the spider-thread and all five froze, caught in the nightmare he had conjured.
Dais returned his weapon to its holster and stepped down, patting his horse on her shoulder before approaching the warriors.
Every so often one would twitch, probably from running into some creature or another that their own mind conjured for them to combat. He turned the web clear and frowned. They were a mixed sex group, and seemed to have use of the technology that the Dynasty's mystical nature rendered useless. From how the guns were stowed away, however, Dais deduced that even coming from another Netherworld, they were forced to behave according to the Dynasty's rules. Although that they made it through without undue harm was worrisome.
Dais killed four of them and disposed of the bodies before returning to the chosen survivor. He took away the man's weapons, armor, and valuables and tossed them into a pack on his horse. Better to deal with someone who couldn't hurt him at all than someone who was desperate and armed.
Dais dropped the illusion of anonymity and took off his helmet so that the man would see that Dais was, too, a human—whatever that might count for—before releasing the soldier's body from the web casing and his mind from the illusion.
The man gasped, jerked, and fell to his knees, panting.
"Are you hurt?" Dais asked, weaving concern into his voice. He made sure it seemed that he was only in his subarmor, since being in full armor would probably not allow him to get any answers.
The man's head snapped up and he stared at Dais.
"Are you hurt?" Dais repeated slowly and the man's shoulders tensed.
"You can speak?" the man asked in a scratchy bass.
"As can you," Dais replied and the man blinked before a laugh forced its way out of him.
Dais could tell the man was about to ask something when he noticed the lack of his comrades, followed by the absence of everything else he had brought with him.
Dais held up his hands in pacification and easily dodged when the man lunged at him.
"Hey!" he protested, doing his best to sound hurt.
"Where is everyone? Where's my stuff?"
Dais frowned. "You were the only one here when I arrived."
The man balked, although obviously didn't trust Dais.
"You're not from here."
"I am—was—part of a recon team," he said, surprised at the truthfulness in the statement. The man's mind was disorganized, which meant Dais could nudge him into telling the truth.
"From another Netherworld than this one," Dais prompted.
"I don't know. I just know that suddenly this place suddenly appeared with the others," the man said, and a look of horror was slowly blooming on his face at the information he was giving away.
"The others."
"I've been to them, we know them—but this one is new. Theory is that it has been held apart by some kind of 'mystical' force." The man was starting to try and figure out why he was saying so much, but Dais had a firm grip on his mind.
Dais hummed. "How many other places are there than here?"
The man shrugged. "A lot. This is the first new one we've found in…centuries, though."
"Aha. And travel between the worlds is easy?"
"Not easy, but doable." Dais was having more trouble forcing answers out of him, and decided that he had nearly gotten enough to start. He didn't feel like torturing the man, and didn't have the correct equipment anyway.
"So there might be more of you coming?" Dais asked.
"Who are you?"
Dais shook his head and caught the man's mind in another illusion, causing the soldier to freeze and tremble in place.
Dais let the illusion cloaking himself to switch to the grunt-image before he killed the last man and tossed him into the same grave as his comrades.
So. There are many worlds, who will be able to travel between here and there without much difficulty.
Dais mounted his horse and kicked it into a gallop, heading straight for the palace. This…does not bode well. An impending war—multiple wars, even—combined with invasion from outside Netherworlds. And, of course, Kale and Sekhmet decided to leave just before this all came to light. My luck.
He shed his illusion only once he was back in the palace, his mind in too many places to maintain it for much longer anyway. He reached his quarters and immediately tugged on the string that released the hatch where his reports collected and he cast off his armor onto the stand beside his desk and sat down in his subarmor, picking up the first report.
There was much to do and no time to do it in.
He was working through the fourth of fifteen reports when he heard his door slide aside. He wasn't expecting the interruption, so instinctively cast an illusion, albeit a clumsy one.
He debated letting Kayura stay a little longer in the hasty illusion he had crafted, but decided that it was probably best to let her have her mind. He released Kayura and turned to face her as she shook the metaphorical cobwebs from her mind.
"Dais," she said, reproach in her voice.
"I'm busy," Dais snapped.
"Oh? You weren't in the Human World?"
Dais snorted and shook his head. "We have visitors."
"Visitors."
"When Talpa tried to merge the two worlds, the Netherworld came into contact with other Netherworlds, and now denizens from the other worlds are finding ways in."
Kayura's eyebrows rose slightly. "When were you going to tell me about this?"
"I'm telling you now, aren't I?" Dais responded. "I'm sure you know about the factions, however."
Kayura shrugged. "They're nothing."
"Of course," Dais drawled. "You keep on focusing on making yourself a target to keep everyone occupied."
Kayura chuckled. "What are you scared of, warlord?"
Dais tapped his fingers impatiently against his desk. "I'm not scared," Dais said calmly. "I'm acting in the interests of the Dynasty. You don't wish to see it overrun by foreigners, do you?"
Kayura leaned on her staff and watched him. Dais returned her gaze.
Dais wasn't sure how long they had the silent battle of wills—her requesting information, he unwilling to give it—but it stretched long enough that Dais' attention had started to wander to what new problem could possibly be on the fifth scroll.
"Fine," Kayura eventually said. "This is what you did, wasn't it?"
Dais shrugged.
"It's why I never saw you much before the Ronin Warriors," she said slowly.
"Close the door or leave."
"I trust that you'll tell me anything important you discover."
"You are not my Master."
"But I am the Master of the Netherworld."
Dais wanted to tack on a "for now" but figured that it might bring calamity on them sooner than later and he wanted time to make sure the damage was minimal.
"Do you need anything else?" Dais asked mildly.
"Keep me appraised, Warlord."
Dais gave her a dismissive wave and turned to the fifth scroll, feeling a small amount of pleasure at the scowl she directed at him and how the rice-paper door closed perhaps a tad too hard behind her.
Her statement gave him food for thought, though. Dais was still acting as if he were the spymaster of the Dynasty, but Talpa was no longer in charge. There was technically no true head of the Dynasty. The remaining Warlords and Kayura had assumed the responsibility of taking care of the world, but did that make them the actual rulers? Was Kayura really the head of the Dynasty?
The very thought was horrifying.
Still, she could and had wiped the floor with all of them on multiple occasions, and she was the last of the Ancient's clan, so she was the strongest in the Dynasty, as far as he knew, and was cunning in her own right.
Dais huffed and unsealed the fifth scroll. Seems like I am working for her. Damn.
Every scroll brought him new and troubling information, and a headache was forming behind his eyes and at the base of his skull. Kale and Sekhmet weren't around to thrash anymore and he had an image to uphold in the absence of both of them, so he wasn't quite sure how he'd deal with the tension.
The reminder of their absence, followed by the thought as to where they were at that time gave him an idea.
Perhaps being in the Human World—where he would be nobody—would be a relief. He was still curious about it, anyway, and had at least some tools that would help him at least navigate the streets of Tokyo. Probably with the proficiency of a foreigner, but he wasn't aiming high given his level of exhaustion.
He looked at his armor, then shook his head. No, no armor. The mystical power had limits and he had pushed them for the last few days.
He stood, cracked his back, and walked to the closet where all the clothes from the human world lay. He picked up the ones he knew fit him and ran his fingers along the rough texture of the jeans.
They had outfits made of materials like this. Perhaps the different Netherworlds also connect across time.
His headache worsened.
He cloaked his armor in an illusion and put on the modern day clothing. It still felt odd and awkward, but it was different and lighter-weight, which put less strain on his body.
He opened a portal to the mortal realm and hesitated.
Dais looked down at his outfit. He figured that it would pass well enough, based on the magazines he had browed. Still, he felt oddly apprehensive, even though he knew he was more than prepared for a short foray.
He stepped through the portal.
The noise assaulting him made him have to skip a step to keep his balance. He knew that there were other places that weren't so overwhelmingly noisy, but it seemed to him that humanity was noisy, so might as well jump right into the fray.
He walked cautiously out of the alley and was about to attempt to melt into the herd when someone speaking caught him up short.
He knew it was Japanese. He knew it was Japanese. And yet, somehow, it…wasn't.
Four hundred years has changed many things, he thought. He had seen the differences in magazines and books, yes, but written word was easy to puzzle out. Now he found himself immersed in the difference and it was…well, it didn't help his headache.
He had received more than a few covert dirty looks for his abrupt stop in the middle of mortal traffic, but they were nothing compared to what he was used to, so he ignored them.
Then, why could I understand it before? He wondered as he walked slowly by shops advertising everything that Dais had seen in his stolen literature.
He turned into a pedestrian mall, which had slightly less foot traffic due to the plethora of stores, and found a place to sit down.
He ran a hand through his hair and grimaced. He could pick up words and phrases here and there as passers-by chattered at each other, but he was certain that he would sound extremely archaic if he tried to converse. Unfortunately, the only way to definitively learn the 'new' Japanese would be to consistently listen to it and then try to speak it.
Ever since he had become a warrior, he had taken pride in his expansive knowledge, and that pride had always been justified and backed-up by sheer power. But now…now he found himself at a loss. His pride wouldn't let him stoop to asking for help, but his intellectual curiosity about how things had changed, how they had really changed, was ensnared.
He supposed it was down to a matter of cost-benefit analysis. Would he gain anything by knowing the new iteration of Japanese? Would the knowledge of contemporary culture and behavioral expectations aid him in any way?
The answer to both was clearly 'no.' Not when he had a job to do in his home, where he was more than capable of communicating and behaving in.
He walked into a place that was marked as a bathroom, created a portal to the Dynasty, and stepped back through.
The silence was almost as deafening as the cacophony he had endured.
He changed out of his mortal clothes, and back into his usual, traditional kimono and haori, the cut and feel comforting. He had spent very little time in the mortal realm, an almost offensively short amount. But, he had endured days without real rest or food and had a large, explosive puzzle dumped in his lap, and the last thing he needed was to feel stupid and inept at the hands of people he could easily kill.
Dais looked at the pile of books that he had on his low desk and scowled. He'd have to get rid of them or, at least, hide them so that he wasn't tempted again to venture into the mortal world. It simply wasn't worth his effort, especially given the trouble that was brewing in the Netherworld. He needed to be there, to be in the Dynasty, so that the situation remained under his and Kayura's control, or as much as possible. He'd let Sekhmet and Kale have their fun running around and being fools—he had always been the responsible one, afterall.
A part of them did wish they were around, though, just so he could throw them at the factions and find out just how dangerous the waters actually were. Maybe he should travel into the Human World just to drag the two asses back to the Dynasty.
He rubbed his temples. Perhaps I just need some rest. When was the last time I slept?
Dais secured his rooms before passing out on his futon.
The books remained on the table.