Author: This fanfic has become a project. - _ -;

Disclaimer: I am not the first, and will not be the last, to want to own this and be denied.

~Chapter 3~

Dais stood before the map in the empty War Room and rubbed his temples in an attempt to ease at least some of the pain of the constant, low-grade headache he had been suffering from.

Two days after he had returned to the Castle and had begun to organize the Dynasty's forces, the Children had attacked one of the Clan's holdings. From all accounts, it had been quite the bloodbath.

That was a week ago.

Dais hadn't had a moment of rest since.

A wave of his hand brought the positions of the different clans onto the map in front of him.

The reports he received from his spies were conflicting but enlightening. They gave him conflicting death tolls, tactics, and leaders—at least his new spies.

Misha and Argen's (who were embedded in the Children and Clans respectively) reports were more trustworthy—it was how he knew that it was the Children who made the move that had sparked what would surely turn into a Netherworld-wide war.

Misha's report told him that the Children had been moving around resources for some time and that the warriors had become antsy. It was either attack or face a rebellion. They chose the Clan, given that they had the best resources and the Children were growing short on food. They had recruited Kobalt to develop strategies so the Children didn't simply 'attack, rape, pillage—rinse and repeat'. Misha had also thrown at Dais the names of some strong and well-known warlords, which didn't worry Dais at all. Most warlords worked very poorly with each other (as evidenced with he and his unhappy co-workers), so he was certain that different prides would come into conflict with each other and split the faction into internal factions. Dais was now entirely certain that unless something remarkable happened, the Children would be the first to break apart and ally themselves with other clans.

This was not something he entirely approved of. He liked having all the strongest warriors in one place. He would have to find some way to strengthen the bond that kept them all tied loosely together.

Maybe uniting them in hate for the other factions? Right now it's mostly bloodlust and conquest for the sake of it, but if I make them feel that something more than their amusement is at stake, I might manage to keep them together long enough to suit my purposes.

A soft snap sent the tiny marks on the board into movement and a pull of his hand back zoomed in to get a better grasp of the terrain.

Misha's report had said that the Clan's casualties were overall worse than the Children's, which was expected. However, the Children had lost commanders, warlords, those who lead the armies of grunts—the Clans had lost soldiers. Soldiers were replaceable; commanders often were not. Misha's report gave him broad details of the movements and battle tactics that had happened on the field.

Given that the Children had more powerful battle-hardened warriors, it was no surprise at the massive losses incurred by the Clans.

A portion of the map turned red, signifying new territory that the Children had taken since his last reports and Dais grimaced.

Argen's report gave a better glimpse into the internal workings of the Clans. The Clan knew that they were in an enviable and profitable position, and thus had been expecting an attack from one of the other factions; however, both the Ogres and Children had been gearing up, so the Clans had been torn as to whom to protect against. This lead to forces being divided, which, of course, was a terrible tactical decision.

It seemed that the Clans were good at getting information, but were bad at figuring out how to put their intelligence into effect—which, of course, could be a front, and thus something Dais would have to watch carefully. Still, the Clans had spies and assassins on the move, which was how they took down so many of the Children's officers; Argen's report also indicated that there had been failed attempts on Akuma's life.

That might be good for me, Dais thought grimly as he maneuvered the Clans' pieces. It will make Akuma more observant and smarter, and that might make him a more capable leader. Perhaps I'll encourage more assassination attempts.

The Clans had expected to lose some ground to the Children, but the ground they had lost was apparently of no value to them and thus they had strewn the nearby fields with salt and did some slash-and-burn to prevent the Children from getting anything out of the land. Admittedly, it also put the Clans at a disadvantage to do that, but they had much more resources still at hand. Better to distract the Children with frustration than attempt to protect everything. Especially when the Ogres were moving against them, as well—not in collusion with the Children, though, as Dais doubted that the Children as a faction would work well with anyone beside themselves. There would be no alliances when whole: conquest or death were the only options. That would change after the segmentation that was inevitable, but Dais could wait for that before taking his pick of which warlords he desired to have beneath the Dynasty banner.

Dais zoomed into the lands that the Clans controlled and his good eye narrowed. Argen had indicated that there was a movement of supplies that he couldn't entirely pin down, that they seemed to be stockpiling; however, he couldn't locate where or why they would be doing such.

Then again, Argen had also indicated that multiple Netherworlds had made forays into the gentle and lush lands that the Clans controlled. The Clans were, apparently, fighting on three fronts, one of which was semi-internal. Argen's reports on the different Netherworlds that the Clans had run up against were disturbingly fascinating. It appeared that the majority making their way through were hostile, which further depleted the Clans' reserve of warriors. Argen also reported that civilians were being abducted, so the Clan had retaliated by capturing, killing, and torturing some of the creatures that came through. Most, when they could be made to talk and understood, indicated that they were: 1) looking for a new place to siphon off excess population, 2) looking for a new source of resources, 3) looking for conquest; Argen included sketches of the beings when he could.

I doubt there is anything I can do to extend their existence as a faction, Dais thought and added black pockets to where there had been conflicts with beings from other Netherworlds in Clans' lands. I can do nothing for them except decide by whom they are destroyed. Pity.

Aya had sent him word from the Ogres about the reaction to the hostilities, while also including details about the power structure within the Ogres. It was, apparently, deliberately confusing so to keep everyone in line. The Ogres had a surprisingly large civilian population, and were driven by that more than the presence of military might to seek new territory. Their numbers were growing faster than their resources could sustain.

The structure of the Ogres was meant to keep the people stuck in the station they were born into—there was little chance for social mobility, and that bred some discontent, which was also why the Ogres were looking for territory. The hierarchy was extensive, elaborate, and oppressive, and Aya indicated that he had to work very hard to keep undercover. The Ogres were more cautious than either the Children or Clans, and Aya had been unable to get even close to the tactical meetings through normal means (he was no ninja and didn't have the minor illusory gift that Tano possessed). Aya suggested that they were attempting to influence how the Clans and Children's conflict was playing out while making some tactical moves of their own, but had completely avoided the Army. Aya speculated that the higher-ups believed that as long as they didn't venture into Army territory, the Army wouldn't bother them.

Aya gave him a better sense of the popular opinion than tactics, but Dais knew that would be how he undermined the Ogres. If and when he decided to—he had a feeling that the Ogres would be much more easily contained than the Army, and were less sneaky, too. Still, given how they were more a civilian nation than martial one, Dais felt he could make the threat of the Army loom much larger than it might actually be and cause them to turn to him, to the Dynasty, for help, since they were a known evil and a well-documented stronghold.

The report about the Army of the Rising Sun that he received from Tano was three lines long. It was unlike her to be able to gather such little information, and that worried him. Tano was one of the best spies the Dynasty had to offer—he had trained her himself. All he had managed to get from her cryptic message was that the Army was much larger than it looked, it had a single, male leader, and they were in touch with another warlord from another Netherworld. She couldn't find out the names of either the leader of the Army or the foreigner, and the jagged edge to the written words of that confession betrayed her frustration.

Dais tapped his fingers together as he glared at the map.

The question is—should I make a move?

He didn't want to make hasty decisions. The conflict had just begun, and he could afford to wait. He was certain that no-one would attack the Dynasty outright—not with he and Kayura holding the reins. The reputation he had crafted for them both kept most of the Netherworld holding their collective breaths and walking softly around them. True, Skehmet was the most feared due to his poison and unpredictability, but Dais had casually mentioned that the Warlord of Poison had left the Castle—which, of course, most people interpreted as having gone abroad in the Dynasty.

Dais pressed his fingers together before nodding slightly.

I'll see about escalating the conflict between the Children and Clan. The Ogres are more stable and perhaps can be bargained with and bullied into behaving and becoming part of the Dynasty. Best to conserve resources for when the Army starts to tip their hand.

Dais twitched on a communication line and one of the Dynasty-loyal warlords came in, his helmet tucked under his arm.

"You need something?" the warrior asked in a grating monotone.

Dais inclined his head slightly and pulled another thread, which brought a upper-echelon Netherspirit to him.

Dais turned to the Netherspirit. "You and your kin can create a portal to behind the walls of the Children's Keep?"

The Netherspirit nodded.

Dais looked at the Warlord, Jackal. "You and your troops are going to use the portals the Netherspirits generate to storm the Children's Keep, and then destroy everything."

"Everything?" the warlord asked, anticipatory curiosity creeping into his voice.

"Everything," Dais affirmed. "I want there to be nothing for them to return to. Make it look like the Clans did it."

"As you will, sire," the warlord said and bowed deeply before leaving. The Netherspirit vanished without a word, and Dais rubbed his good eye.

I can't afford implication in the attack. I have to make sure it looks like the Clans did it, or else I'll be drawn in much sooner than I want.

Dais tugged on another connection, and one of the assassins Dais "employed" appeared.

"Follow Jackal and his men," Dais commanded. "Make sure nothing that belongs to or is aligned with the Children leaves that village. There will be no survivors from the Children. Understood?"

"Make sure that nothing but the Dynasty is left in the village once attacked," the assassin replied before vanishing again.

Another contact brought a unassuming young woman to him, who gave him an inquisitive look.

"I've ordered an attack on the Children's Keep. Make sure that it looks like the Clans did it. You may kill some of the Dynasty soldiers if you need to."

She smiled, bowed, and left.

Dais looked at the map again. It was a chancy move, but he had a feeling everything would play out the way he desired.

Not that he couldn't backpedal quickly enough to denounce Jackal and his men and have them executed. That might even be a wise move—if anyone in his faction acted out of line, what would he do if someone else attacked him?

Dais looked up from the map as Kayura walked in, and Dais hated her all over again for the easy confidence in her step.

"You're still up?" she asked, the rings on her staff jingling as she came to a stop.

Dais shrugged.

"The factions?" Kayura asked, intrigued by the detailed map that Dais had created.

"Among other things," he replied.

"Any updates that you've neglected to tell me?"

Dais kept himself from sighing. "I'm getting reports as I go along. If I ever have something that I can't handle on my own, I'll get in touch with you."

"I appreciate your consideration, warlord, but I do like being involved in protecting my Dynasty."

"You don't trust me."

"You don't trust me either."

Dais didn't bother to refute the statement, since it was true.

"I've sent out orders to make sure that the Children are orphans," Dais eventually said.

"I had no idea you were so vicious, warlord."

Dais frowned. "It's not viciousness, it's war."

Kayura shrugged delicately.

Dais struggled with himself, then said, "I'm worried about the Army of the Rising Sun."

Kayura gave him a look.

Dais spun the map to focus in on the territory that the Army claimed as theirs.

"I have my best spy there and she's unable to dredge up much information, and what she can communicate is heavily encoded. I can't see what's going on and that has me uneasy."

Kayura looked at the map. "Why don't we just attack and smoke them out of their hole? A decisive move might be best."

Dais hesitated. "An offensive move might show my distrust of them," he said slowly, "which could be interpreted as fear, and would give them a reason to attack us. My spy has indicated that they are working with a warlord from another realm—I'd like to have information on that before I do anything."

"You're sure that your caution isn't cowardice?"

Dais didn't rise to the bait—Kayura was young, impulsive, and had never actually lead. He had dealt with antsy warriors before, and could outlast their impatience. Such would never change, so he ignored Kayura's insult and idly turned the map.

"I want the conflict between the Children and Clans to tear each other apart for me. I'd like to 'peaceably' convince the Ogres to side with us so I can use them and whatever survives of the Clans and Children to wipe out the Army."

"A process you intend to expedite."

Dais inclined his head. "It never hurts."

Kayura fell silent, so Dais tugged on the line that brought a warlord and his lieutenant—Yami and Taro—to him.

The two gave Kayura deep and respectful bows before turning their attention to Dais.

"Your troops have run into foreigners," Dais said without preamble, and from the look that briefly passed between the two soldiers, Dais knew that Taro was wondering how he knew.

Yami had told him. He was one of Dais' most loyal warlords, one that he had personally groomed for leadership. Not that such was advertised—Talpa would have had him executed if he knew that Dais was building a power base for himself.

"I want you to go out and hunt for these…visitors," Dais continued. "You can kill them, just leave one alive and send he or she to me. I'd like to have a discussion with the survivor."

The soldiers nodded, the glowing narrowed slits that served as eyes betraying their bloodlust and amusement at Dais' order.

"I've heard that the Clan has had some trouble with the foreigners," Dais said 'off-handed' as he turned back to the map. "Perhaps you'd like to help them out."

"Yes, sire," they said in unison as Dais dismissed them.

"You know, Dais, I can believe now that you killed your best friend and lord."

"He was a stepping stone," Dais replied evenly.

"Of course," Kayura drawled. "Warlord, you've been on your feet for, what, days, now?"

Dais ignored the question, amused by the reminder of his former life.

"Go rest before I make you," Kayura said and gave him a pointed look.

"I'm immortal," Dais drawled, "and you know as well as I do that whatever Talpa did to us has removed the need for creature comforts."

Well, very little of a need, Dais amended as his vision blurred for a second.

"That doesn't mean that your mind doesn't become exhausted, and I need you at your best, Warlord," Kayura countered. "If you refuse to sleep, at least do something else. Go…I don't know, go to the Human World, just come back."

Dais frowned at the floor. The Human World had made him feel like a fool, but perhaps that ignorance would be refreshing. He didn't have to know everything that was going on.

"No," he heard himself say. "Any time away from here leaves the Dynasty vulnerable. I can't afford—"

"Dais, I'm here. If anything truly pressing arises, I can handle it, along with some of the warlords we employ. I'm sure they'd be happy to indulge in a battle or two."

"But—"

"Trust me."

"I cant!" Dais snapped. "A leader must—"

"Dais. Even the best leaders sleep. As you won't, go to the Human World or join them out there in the hunt."

Dais sighed. "I'll be back in an hour," he said, deliberately leaving his decision vague.

"Two."

"No."

"I can keep the door shut until I feel you can come back."

"You wouldn't."

"I'm strong enough to do that. Go."

Dais glared at the last of the Ancients, but could tell she was more than willing to out-stubborn him.

Dais sighed. "Fine. Don't burn down the Castle while I'm away."

"Yes, mother," Kayura drawled as Dais left the War Room, his steps heavier than he would have liked.

Still, he had appearances to keep up, so managed somehow to get to his room without collapsing. Once safely inside, he removed his armor and cloaked it in an illusion. He felt lighter without it and the responsibility it represented. He rummaged through his closet until he found the human clothes that he remembered fitting him.

Everything was slightly looser, and it made Dais wonder when he had eaten last, then decided that wasn't important. He opened a portal, attached a thread between it and he that would alert him when an hour had passed, and stepped into Tokyo.

He flinched at the usual bombardment of sound and light and life of the city, but he didn't have the same kind of minor unease that had popped up before. He walked out of the public mall bathroom and into an outdoor, expansive, bustling area. The sound of modern Japanese irked him, but he pushed his annoyance to the side. He didn't have to communicate, so he wouldn't try. He was in Tokyo to avoid responsibility.

He walked out of the mall and stopped to let the insanity of the mortal world wash over him.

Lights that dictated the flow of horse-less vehicles; people talking to others across the country by a small device made of materials more delicate and complex than Dais could grasp; music recorded onto small discs that could be replayed in various other electronic devices—electricity in general. Everything was moved and powered by a force he couldn't see, and that was dangerous to touch. The night was as bright as the day thanks to electric lights, allowed giant metal snakes to transport hundreds of people across a city riddled with tall buildings that people worked and lived in. Thousands of people pressed in on him, all talking in a dialect he could barely understand.

It was both frustrating and distastefully humbling. He hadn't felt so young and naive in centuries.

He made a left, settled into a leisurely walk, and couldn't help but fall into observing the humans that populated the city.

The majority of faces were those kin to those he had seen throughout his childhood and slightly into his adult years. 400 years had changed many things, yes, but the changes in Japanese appearance were so slight as to be non-existent. He knew that he was the one who looked foreign. It was the clothing that both intrigued and annoyed him, as always. It was just so different…

He was, to his chagrin, more scandalized than interested by how much skin women were allowed to show, especially foreign ones; he supposed that it took either great confidence or excessive foolishness to leave so much of their body unprotected, and it didn't seem as if those who bared themselves were hookers. He could only imagine the kind of trouble a modern woman would encounter if transported back to his time. The women were easily pushed aside, however—he supposed it was because of how willing they were to flaunt what assets they possessed that was a turn-off.

He was embarrassed at how much guilty pleasure he took in how men, too, were allowed to leave less to the imagination regarding their bodies. It was not nearly of the same extent, but he did appreciate how jeans and shirts clung closer to many a man's skin. Admittedly, there were some—both male and female—that he thought should rethink what they wore, but who was he to judge when the only way he really knew how to dress was a fashion from 400 years in the past?

Still, it reminded him about how long he hadn't seen another person besides the warlords and Kayura, which was more or less equal to the amount of time it had been since he had sex (what he had done to the other warlords didn't count).

He figured that people were oblivious enough that he could appraise physical appearances and not face any consequences. He found a convenient storefront that allowed him ample view of passers-by and settled against the unfamiliar building material. What better way to learn about acceptable and expected human appearance, at least? He might even be able to get a sense of how the genders and ages interacted with each other, and it required no effort on his part.

His eyes were always inevitably drawn to the foreigners, since they stuck out so badly in the midst of the more-or-less homogenous Japanese crowd. They looked almost comical to Dais. He wondered if there were any amongst the foreigners who made their home in Japan, or if they were all simply visiting.

Admittedly, Dais was a full-blooded Japanese, yet looked completely foreign, so perhaps it wasn't his place to comment.

As during his first glance at the hive of humanity, he was struck by the bleached whiteness of some of the people wandering around, but the darker-skinned ones were rarer, and, therefore, even more remarkable. Part of him wanted to seduce one into the Dynasty, pull he or she away from the city and world that they knew just so he could examine them at his leisure.

Normally, he would. However, during a time of war, any distraction could be fatal. The visits that he was planning to indulge in could mean the end of the Dynasty's control of the Netherworld.

Kayura was powerful, but she could still be defeated.

The paler-skinned were interesting for their hair and eye color variation, but hair color could be changed without much difficulty, so that meant little. That he saw other people with the same colored eyes as he was the most interesting that he observed in the white people around him.

There were also tan people among the crowd, with dark hair and eyes as he was used to, but with a different face-shape that marked them as not Japanese, Chinese, or Korean. Their facial features tended closer to the white people in the crowd, which made him wonder if they lived closer to each other than the white to the black. Perhaps proximity bred similarity.

Maybe some of those that Yami and Taro capture will be different shades of human. I'd love to figure out what the differences are, should there be any.

He wondered what the variety would be like in other parts of the world, places outside of Japan, then decided that would be too large of a project to tackle while also navigating a war.

The clothing also seemed to vary by age—an increase in age seemed to mean an increase in modesty. Of course, that was probably a very large generalization, but it would be consistent with his previous experience. Youth seemed to allow for a wider and more obnoxious range of fabrics, colors, and cuts—all ways of expressing personality or identity or some such nonsense.

He wondered if he should spend some more time in a clothing store, since some of the fabrics he saw worn begged to be touched.

It seemed as good an idea as any, but as he turned to go back to the pedestrian mall, he found his eye caught by an individual, which was unusual. Dais was very picky, so most men fell short of his standards, and while the young man waiting impatiently at the bus station across the street didn't entirely satisfy, he came pleasantly close.

The young man had strength in him that was evident even through his lose T-shirt—it was in how the cloth tugged at his shoulders, the definition in his arms. Beneath the impatience, he stood with a warrior's confidence, his posture straight and weight perfectly balanced. His entire body was expressive, although his face and eyes obviously the most so. He was likely a man who felt everything, experienced life with an intensity most couldn't imagine. He was probably nearly entirely transparent emotionally, although there did seem to be a tiny bit of opacity—probably brought on by some sort of traumatic experience. Dark hair, dark eyes, but a face too broad to be purely Japanese—there was some Chinese heritage in him, most likely. Dais was certain that the physical definition that was visible extended to the rest of his body.

Dais felt strangely rooted to the spot, intrigued by the young man more than he would like. Still, he was enjoying watching the man's thoughts manifest in his face and body, so amused himself by trying to imagine what the young man would look without the obstruction of clothes, an exercise he hadn't participated in for centuries.

He wouldn't have a prominent collarbone, but enough definition to indicate the pull of the muscle attached to it. Perhaps some chest hair, but not a fur coat.

The young man didn't look like the sort who would train excessively, just enough to make sure that his body was in peak condition, so there would be some curves and dips that outlined the musculature of his torso. His back and shoulders were likely tight from the training put into them, slightly toughened skin over a dense, deep strength. There would be no feeling bone—it would all be well hidden.

He traced the curve of the young man's hip, imagining removing the jeans that hugged his waist. Dais could almost feel the tension that his touch would cause, how the young man's butt cheeks would tighten as if in preparation for a fight. His thighs would have the same subtle definition as his arms; the same roughened skin over steely muscle would extend to his calves, and Dais was sure the young man had calluses from practicing one kind of hand-to-hand technique or another.

The young man he was objectifying must have felt his stare, since his head whipped around. Dais saw the young man search for his eyes beneath the sunglasses, and Dais gave him an unapologetically salacious smile that seemed to throw the young man even more than Dais' mental undressing of him. The young man's face flushed and he looked away in disgust.

Dais snickered and turned, figuring that a retreat would only unnerve his victim more, since he wouldn't have someone to point out when he complained to the friend he was waiting for. Anyway, there was a tug on his mind that told him his hour was up. Dais found a blind corner and disappeared back into the Dynasty.

As he was changing out of his human clothes and back into his subarmor, he couldn't help but think: I wonder who that was. He seemed…familiar.

Dais felt better for his minor mental game and went back to the pile of reports that were waiting for him, feeling strangely refreshed.