The God Wars: Growing Darkness

by TheAmateur

A world needs Order and Chaos to survive. In the absence of zealotry, these two forces can coexist to keep a world civilized, but flexible enough to bring about change. The problem is that there will always be zealots. And Gods are always the worst ones.

21. Chapter 21: Centralian Meddling

Chapter Twenty-One: Centralian Meddling

The Shogun was expressionless as he climbed to the summit of the tall hill. His face rarely ever bore any form of expression during times of battle; such was his extremely tight level of control over his own emotions. The autumn was out in full force—everywhere the Ainu military leader looked, he saw brilliant swathes of gold, red, and orange. Most of the islands of the Ainu Empire were covered with mountainous forests, and so they were always particularly colorful before the onset of winter.

At the top of the hill, the Shogun took pause, closing his eyes and breathing in through his nose, relishing the warmth of the sun on his eyelids and face. He listened to the soft breeze, the chirping of the birds flying overhead, all those little sounds of life that resounded through the forests. And then, opening his eyes, the Shogun looked to the distance and saw Kātayō, the capital city of the Empire.

The sprawling city's wooden buildings almost looked golden in the late afternoon sunlight. Beyond the city, the waters of the bay glittered. Fishing vessels could be seen sailing back into the harbor from the ocean beyond. Banners could also be seen waving on the ramparts of the city walls, which were manned by soldiers from the city garrison.

The Shogun knew that he would be facing upwards of seven thousand enemy troops in the city, but that was only if he managed to gain entry to the capital. No, his real problem was the army under Kurosawa Ukitei, Daimyo of the Ushu Han, which was the largest and most powerful province of Arokyo—the second-largest island of the Ainu Empire, after the prime island of Oēn itself. Kurosawa, unfortunately, had not been among the Daimyo who had sided with the Shogun. What he had done instead was to rally his own forces. The powerful daimyo had then spurred many of the other Daimyo of Arokyo to assemble their forces, as well…and then, this combined Arokyoai Army, numbering close to twenty thousand strong—including samurai, regular soldiers, and conscripts—marched to their ports and boarded a fleet of fishing vessels.

It was the goal of this army to stop the forces led by the Shogun, which were roughly two-thirds that size. Arokyo was also the northernmost island in the empire, so the Shogun had had no idea that Kurosawa had been mustering his forces until recently.

The Shogun's scouts reported that Kurosawa's army was landing at Daichyi, on the other side of Oēn. If the Centralian Praetor's plan failed, then the Shogun would have to capture the city through conventional means…and he would have to do it before Kurosawa arrived, which would give him roughly half a month.

The Shogun was not alone on the hilltop, looking to the capital. There were two others with him; Arald Harcourt, the navarch of the Centralian warship Silver Arrow, and Tojimoro Hirigake—Daimyo of the Owara Han of Ryukyu, and the Shogun's de facto second-in-command. Niten, the Shogun's actual second-in-command, was hiding inside the capital with the Centralian Praetor, his marines, and the Itoan shamans, waiting for the signal to implement the Praetor's plan.

"We come full circle," the Shogun stated, shielding his eyes from the sun. "A fitting end, if I am fated to die in this place."

Tojimoro hummed in agreement, but Harcourt remained silent. The Centralian naval captain had no intentions of dying here, but he knew better than to say this to his Ainu companions. They would interpret it as cowardice—their warriors did not view battle the same way the Legions did. Everything revolved around honor—retreating was dishonorable, ambushes were dishonorable, covert tactics were dishonorable; the rigidity of it all made Harcourt's head spin. These people were excellent swordsmen and mages, but they had clearly never dealt with creatures of darkness constantly attacking their borders. Throughout Centralia's turbulent history, 'honor' had quickly given way to survival instinct.

"Tojimoro-san, what news of Kurosawa?" the Shogun asked his subordinate, speaking in Commonspeak out of respect for Harcourt, not turning away from the view of the capital in the distance.

"The latest report spoke of Kurosawa landing the last of his forces at Daichyi," Tojimoro informed the older man. "His vanguard is already marching into the Omasa Hills."

The Shogun exhaled through his nose, taking this news in stride. "He moves faster than I would have expected."

"He drives his men to the brink of exhaustion, no doubt," Captain Harcourt remarked.

The Shogun glanced at the Centralian momentarily, finally turning away from the sun. He raised an eyebrow at the foreigner's statement, and replied simply with, "He drives them no faster than he drives himself."

The Shogun stepped past the others, making his way back down the hill. Even through the colorful canopy of the forest, he could see his army marching through the trees, making its way towards the capital. His force was a highly irregular army—comprised of the core group of warriors who had joined him in exile on Ito, the forces of several of the Greater Clans of the main islands, as well as many of the Lesser Clans from the outlying isles. Combined armies were not necessarily unprecedented—they had existed at many points throughout history—but they certainly were not an everyday occurrence.

The Ainu Empire had an Imperial Army, but the Imperial Army was not necessarily the central military—it was merely the army of the Sun Emperor's clan, the ruling clan of Ainuido. It would be like if, instead of having the Royal Legions, Centralia instead possessed several smaller armies, each from a different province. In the end, it really illustrated the difference between Ainuido and Centralia at its simplest level—the Centralian King was more powerful than the Sun Emperor, but the Ainu Daimyo were more powerful than the Centralian Proconsuls. The Ainu government was not as centralized.

A new thought occurred to the Shogun then, as he pondered the irregularity of his combined army. If the Centralian Praetor's plan was successful, if the Sun Emperor was cleansed and restored; if the Ainu answered the call of the West…it might just be the first time in history that all of Ainuido united under the Imperial banner. And what a precedent it would be…

But those subsequent thoughts, while they warmed the warrior's blood, ultimately served only to bring the Shogun's attention back to the fact that, to achieve this end, he still had to be victorious in the battle for Kātayō, which was going to be no small hurdle.

This battle was different from the countless other skirmishes the Shogun had fought in. Normally he was the epitome of calm before and during a battle, but what was so…so maddening about this particular engagement was the fact that so much of it was beyond his control. It was Niten and the Centralian Praetor who held the fate of the battle in their hands. The Shogun's upcoming attack on the walls of the capital was, in essence, a glorified diversion. The Shogun longed to trade places with Niten, longed to lead the assault on the Sun Palace…but if he did not lead the attack on the walls, his absence would be noted by the Marshal, and the defenders would then know that something was amiss.

The Shogun headed the rest of the way down the hill. Harcourt and Tojimoro followed close behind.

The Shogun's combined army kept up its pace, marching much later into the day than it had in the past. This was because their destination was so near…and, with Kurosawa breathing down their necks, they could not afford to waste time. The Shogun had known Kurosawa in the past, always knew him to be a fiery man…one who was at home on the battlefield. He would have made an excellent ally. Perhaps he still might, after the dust settled.

The capital could not be seen from ground level at the place where the tall hill was, so the Shogun remained at the head of the army's advance until the forest dwindled away and the walls of Kātayō became visible. There was about a league or so of open fields between the eaves of the forest and the city walls. It was in this open stretch of land that the Shogun's samurai and soldiers moved in and set up their camps. Activity along the ramparts visibly increased, but the defenders were not exactly frenzied. After all, it would take more than skilled swordsmen to breach this part of the walls, and they could not see any siege engines attached to the Shogun's force.

As the last few groups of warriors emerged from the forest, the sun was kissing the western horizon. The Shogun wished he was on the coastline; he had always loved watching the sun set over water. Especially on days with no wind, when he would be able to see the sun's reflection in the water, crawling closer and closer to the horizon, until it touched the actual sun, and they merged into each other.

The Shogun instructed each of the Daimyo to ensure that their men got as much rest as possible, for he intended to attack early tomorrow morning. Many of the provincial leaders questioned initially whether it was wise to commence the attack so soon, before the men had had the chance to get settled in. The Shogun had simply replied that because they were now camped in front of the walls of the capital, there was nothing else standing in the way of starting the assault. It would be dishonorable to continue to delay, leaving their Emperor in the grip of Zamorak longer than necessary.

Harcourt had to admit that he was in a bit over his head when he tried to fully comprehend the inner workings of the combined army—he was at home on the high seas, fighting with the winds. Sure, his men were making perhaps the most important contribution to the Shogun's army, but that placed him only in a nominal command position…he was a naval captain without a ship. Still…the Shogun seemed to take an interest in him, though Harcourt could not imagine why. Perhaps it was simply a fascination with foreigners.

After nightfall, the warriors clumped together around their campfires, taking in as much warmth as they could to ward against the cold Novtumber night. The Shogun held out his hands toward the flames, dispelling the chill that had started to settle in his fingers. Captain Harcourt sat next to him, for the time being. As they sat around the fire, listening to naught but the sound of the crickets, one of the lesser Daimyo—the Lord of Eido, if Harcourt wasn't mistaken—produced some sort of short, wooden pipe. He rubbed it down with a soft cloth before putting it to his lips and playing.

From the Ainu man's calm breath and the movement of his fingers came a soft, but firm tune, rising from the end of the pipe to dance among the leaves and critters of the treetops. After a minute or so, more pipes could be heard from some of the other camps, playing in harmony with the lesser Daimyo's tune. Captain Harcourt closed his eyes and listened to the music. It was quite different from the music of his home. The notes all sounded…sharp? Contrasting? Harcourt was no musician, so he did not know how to accurately describe the music. The best word that came to mind was, simply, exotic.

Though, no doubt, the Ainu would likely think the same for Centralian music.

The tune took the Centralian's imagination to faraway realms, places of spice and mirth, of light and adventure. For a brief half-hour, Harcourt was able to escape the impending battle by turning his thoughts away from this world. But, unfortunately, the music could not last forever. Eventually, the Daimyo of Eido ceased playing and stowed his pipe. The other pipers stopped as well, no longer having a central melody to follow.

After a few minutes of silence, Captain Harcourt rose to take his leave.

"With the rising of the sun comes a new day…and new hope," the Shogun said, staring into the heart of the flames. He looked up at the Centralian navarch, offering a single nod. "Rest well."

"Shogun," Harcourt bowed in respect to the Ainu military leader before turning away from the fire and stalking off into the darkness that separated the camps. He passed by several of the other clusters of tents before he arrived at the camp occupied by members of his crew from the Silver Arrow. The entire crew had not accompanied their navarch inland. Harcourt had left Naevius, his second-in-command, in charge of the ship, along with an appropriately-sized skeleton crew. Naevius had orders to sail the Arrow through the Haku Straits and down around the western coast of Oēn, where he would hold position until further notice.

"Captain, sir," Eviss, the master-at-arms, offered Harcourt a quick salute. The other sailors sitting around the fire acknowledged his presence with grunts and nods. This kind of informality would never have been allowed if they were still on the Silver Arrow, but Captain Harcourt had quickly instructed the men that they did not have to stand at attention every time he joined them for as long as they were marching. That would have gotten irritating really fast. By now, the men were still respectful of their captain's presence, but in a much more informal manner.

"Any word on the attack, captain?" one of the senior ratings asked.

"Aye," Harcourt nodded, walking up to the fire, soaking up some last-minute warmth before turning in for the night. "We attack with the sun. Mister Eviss, I trust our…contributions…are ready for battle?"

"That they are, sir," Eviss nodded, tugging at the corner of his mustache. "Inspected every one of them myself less than an hour ago."

"Very good," the Navarch said. He paused, covering his face to mask a yawn. "They say the Ainu are absolutely fearless in battle. But when tomorrow comes… I am certain that we will make the Marshal sweat. Make sure you lads all get plenty of rest. Saradomin protect us."

Bidding his men goodnight, the naval captain retired to his tent. He shed his overcoat, stripping down to his underclothes, and crawled into his bedroll. After marching quite literally from sunup 'til sundown, Captain Harcourt was ready to rest. After he closed his eyes, sleep claimed him within a single minute.

---

Akai Hanako, the Emperor's Marshal, fought down the weariness inside of him as he stepped out of the Sun Palace and into the chilled darkness of the pre-dawn morning. He had just finished giving his latest report to the Sun Emperor, concerning the army that was camped outside the capital's eastern walls. The Sun Emperor, ever since the Darkness had tainted his soul, no longer seemed to sleep. A consequence of this was that the Marshal was just as likely to be summoned by his Emperor in the wee hours of the night as he was during the day.

The Marshal exchanged silent nods with the samurai guarding the palace entrance. He descended the stairs that wound down the tall hill upon which the Sun Palace was built, heading down into the city below. The streets of Kātayō were quiet at this time of morning. Soon, the fishermen would awaken and head to their boats, rushing to collect as much fish as they could before winter set in. Soon, the monks and shamans would heard performing their morning chants to welcome the rising sun.

But in the hours before these events came to pass…the capital was mostly asleep. Mostly asleep only because a portion of the soldiers and samurai of the Imperial Army were awake and manning the city walls, and this disturbed the quiescence just enough to prevent the capital from being described as 'silent'.

The fishermen were emerging from their homes even as the Marshal walked through the streets. The commoners all bowed to the Marshal respectfully as he passed by, but he paid them no heed; he wanted to get to the walls as fast as he could. He always felt uneasy whenever he was called away from the walls; he knew the Shogun was down there, somewhere, leading that army…and he always felt that something would go horribly wrong if he was not personally there to head up the defense.

But the Sun Emperor, as well as the samurai and soldiers serving under the Marshal, was not overly alarmed at the arrival of this combined army. The walls of Kātayō had repelled countless attacks in the past, and the Imperials simply did not believe the Shogun's forces would succeed where so many other opposing armies had failed. This did not mean they would grow lax in their defense of the capital, but desperation would remain an unknown sensation to them. They knew the Shogun posed a danger, but it would not be a severe danger. Men would die in the coming battle—such was the way of war—but in the end, when the dust settled, the capital would still be whole.

Ultimately, it was not even a waiting game. If the walls held, which they would, then within two weeks' time the Shogun's forces would be torn apart by the arrival of Kurosawa Ukitei.

It was not long before sunrise by the time Akai arrived on the eastern walls, overlooking the approach from the inland hills. The sky had gone from the star-sprinkled void of nighttime to a deep, navy blue. Not too much longer 'til sunrise, now. The Marshal made his rounds, speaking with the section commanders along the ramparts. He spent over an hour conferring with his on-duty troops, while establishing a system of runners to relay messages from himself to the section commanders, if necessary. He surveyed the defenses—the state of the battlements, the murder-holes, the catapults and their ammunition, the boulder chutes, the giant cauldrons of oil, and all of the other myriad elements that made up the defense of the city walls.

By the time he finished his inspections, the eastern skies had brightened to a shade of azure blue, with a deep red glow cresting over the horizon. Something in the Marshal's gut told him that battle would fall upon them today. Many of the others believed the Shogun would wait another day to give his army a chance to rest—after all, they must have been marching all day long, yesterday, in order to arrive at the capital only a day after they had crushed the border forts. They had to be exhausted.

But Akai Hanako knew the Shogun too well. The Marshal knew that the old warrior was fighting to capture the city in order to attempt to rid the Sun Emperor of his Darkness. This was the reason why the Empire was embroiled in civil war—the rebels believed that it would be heresy to allow the Emperor to live as a slave to the Darkness that had taken ahold over him; while the loyalists believed that any action taken against the Emperor, even with the intent of aiding him, would be heretical.

Simply knowing his opponent's motivation was enough to tell the Marshal that the Shogun would not wait another day. He would consider it dishonorable to spend a day resting, idle while his Emperor was so close by. No, the Shogun would attack today, and he would attack soon.

The Marshal flicked his gaze back up to the horizon. The red glow had brightened to amber. The sun was barely a hair away from showing itself. "With the rising of the sun comes a new day…" he murmured. And, like an illuminating light going off over his head, he knew that the Shogun's attack was going to come much sooner than he would have originally expected.

It was coming right now.

Even before the Marshal could open his mouth to speak, the sun started to peek over the eastern horizon, sending the first rays of sunlight into the Ainu Empire. Barely a heartbeat after the sunlight struck the very top of the Sun Palace, there was a soft hissing sound. A bright light soared into the sky from the edge of the woods, followed closely by a second, then a third. Suddenly, hundreds, thousands of lights hissed into the sky. Flaming arrows, leaving tiny trails of smoke hanging in the air. "Look to the skies, men!" the Marshal bellowed at the top of his lungs the moment he saw the first arrow clear the woods. "Cover! Cover!"

The cry was echoed up and down the ramparts, and the soldiers all dropped to their knees, hunkering against the battlements in order to shield themselves from the volley of arrows. Many were able to get to cover in time…but there were a lot of men who were not quite so fast. Soldiers fell all along the walls, writhing on the ground, clutching at the arrow shafts that protruded from their bodies. Many of them did not move at all.

The Marshal pushed himself to the front of the ramparts. He did not duck for cover with the others—commanders had to stand tall in the face of death. Even so, it nearly cost him—one of the arrows actually struck him in the shoulder, but the armor plate was able to deflect it. Still… the Marshal sensed that he was going to get a sizeable bruise from the hit. The man next to him was not so lucky—he took an arrow to the throat, which was one of the parts of his body that was unprotected by his armor.

The unfortunate man slumped forward over the battlement he stood behind. The Marshal reached forward and checked for the man's pulse. Finding none, he pulled the dead man's body from the battlements, not wanting to fight next to a corpse.

Immediately after the initial volley of arrows, a deafening cry rolled up from the woods, and a seething mass of warriors sprinted out from the cover of the trees and into the open fields that separated the city from the forest. They ran like the wind, swords and spears glinting in the nascent sunlight. Daimyo and their retainers could be seen on horseback, moving about the fields, keeping their men from splaying out too far. Other warriors could be seen bearing tall ladders that must have been constructed from felled trees in the woods.

The Marshal frowned at this. Though he had known the Shogun well enough to predict how and when he would attack… Akai had to admit that he felt some measure of confusion towards this fight. The Shogun's armies possessed no siege equipment—his scouts had been very clear about that fact in their reports. Did the Shogun really expect to storm the walls with just siege ladders? No towers, no trebuchets, no onagers, no means of building a sapper's mine…

The Shogun's iron sense of honor could, at times, cause him to act in a way that could be described by most other men as 'unusual', but he was certainly not suicidal. After he left the capital and entered his self-imposed exile, the Shogun had worked to maintain his ties with the daimyo, as well as raising an army of his own. He had accomplished this in remarkably little time…but he had not attacked until recently. He had waited nearly four years, and the Marshal had been certain that this was because the Shogun knew that he had very little chance of breaching the walls of Kātayō with a conventional attack. But now, the Shogun attacked the capital in earnest…and Akai could not see how the Shogun's chances of success could have increased.

So why, then, would the Shogun wait four years for what had to be some sort of 'right moment'…only to commence an attack that would inevitably fail? His army was well-trained, the daimyo loyal to his cause would have answered his call whenever he issued it…so why the wait? What advantage or weapon did the Shogun have today that he did not have four years ago?

The Marshal did not have the answers, and this was maddening to him. But there would be time enough for deep thinking later; right now, he had to focus on repelling the attackers.

Akai Hanako thrust a hand into the air and shouted, "Volley!"

The archers stationed on and behind the ramparts nocked their arrows and drew back their bowstrings, waiting for the command to fire. Once the Marshal gave the command, every single one of those bows released in unison with a resounding twang, sending a hail of arrows over the walls and into the charging mass of warriors. Dozens of rebels fell to the defenders' volley, but the attackers lost no momentum.

After giving the order for the archers to fire at will, the Marshal sent several runners off the walls to the supervisors overseeing the giant cauldrons of oil. The supervisors would begin transferring the oil to the buckets, which would be carried up to the murder-holes on the ramparts.

After the first few minutes of mayhem, the siege ladders reached the walls. The Marshal could hear the warriors below grunting with exertion as they lifted the ladders and stood them upright before allowing them to crash into the battlements. Almost immediately after the first ladders came into contact with the walls, enemy warriors were streaming up the crude rungs, eager to engage the defenders in close combat.

The Marshal was happy to oblige. He drew his katana from its scabbard, executing a brief drill with the blade before hurrying off in the direction of the nearest ladder. He got there just as the first attacker reached the top of the ladder, only to get impaled by one of the defending spearmen. The spearman yanked his weapon free, but was too slow—before he could recover, the second enemy on the ladder threw a spear of his own, catching the defending spearman in the chest. The death of his comrade avenged, the second enemy drew his sword and leaped onto the ramparts, cutting down the next spearman to strike at him.

Noticing the Marshal, the enemy samurai kicked a third man in the groin, incapacitating him, before letting out a raw-throated shout and charging the commander of the defenses. The Marshal blocked the enemy samurai's blow and stepped forward, striking the other man on the helmet, causing him to stagger back. The Marshal pressed his advantage, knocking the other samurai's blade aside with a lightning-fast strike, then following up with a quick slash to the man's throat.

The samurai fell to his knees, choking on his own blood. The Marshal pushed him aside and stepped past, making for the ladder. Two more of the enemy samurai's comrades had reached the ramparts, and a third was already getting to the top of the ladder.

The attackers were not samurai, however; merely common soldiers. Not to say they were inexperienced, but they were certainly no match in close combat for someone like the Marshal. Akai Hanako quickly dispatched the first soldier, slashing him across a leg before finishing him off with a heel to the windpipe. Somewhat lacking in finesse, but effective nonetheless.

A second man swung for the Marshal's head, but Akai ducked to avoid the blow, spinning round on his left foot and planting his right one into the enemy soldier's stomach. The other man was sent reeling back, his arms windmilling. Before he had a chance to regain his footing, however, he was skewered by one of the loyalist samurai and pushed off the edge of the walls.

"Spear!" Akai exclaimed. One of his soldiers quickly handed him the requested weapon, and the Marshal hopped up onto the battlements. He crouched down and seized the rails of the ladder, heaving them forward as far as he could. It was not far enough to topple the ladder, however, so he inverted the spear and braced the ladder with the shaft of the weapon, shoving it forward. The spear's length was enough to allow the Marshal to push the ladder the rest of the way, but with the weight of the warriors still trying to scale it, the Marshal found that he lacked the strength to follow through.

Fortunately, the man who had lent Akai the spear quickly noticed the Marshal's struggling, and he joined his superior on the battlements, seized the upper half of the spear, added his strength. With the combined efforts of the two men, they were able to push the ladder back far enough for gravity to take hold and bring it crashing back down to the ground, shattering most of the wooden rungs.

The fighting dragged on. The Marshal moved from one ladder to the next, fought off enemy after enemy, quickly losing track of how many he killed or maimed. His only indication of how long he had been fighting was the sun's progress through the sky. Before long, he called up the men who had been waiting in reserve at the base of the walls, and they joined in the melee on the ramparts. While this was enough to swiftly turn the tide against the onslaught of rebels, who had been gradually gaining several footholds, the Marshal soon saw that the fight was far from over.

The rebels were holding strong further to the south, about half a kilometer from the Marshal's current position. Akai Hanako, satisfied that the rebel threat at this part of the wall was under control, sheathed his katana and set off down the ramparts at a breakneck sprint. There were still many isolated fights happening all throughout the ramparts, which the Marshal was careful to avoid. He also had to watch his footing, as the battlements had become littered with wounded men, as well as the remains of those who had given the ultimate sacrifice for their Emperor—both rebel and imperial alike.

As he neared the rebels' main pocket, he saw that the reason they had managed to carve out such a strong foothold was because they had four ladders rigged up side-by-side, allowing for constant reinforcements. If left unchecked, they would soon be able to breach the lines of defense.

Knowing that he could not gain this victory with his sword, the Marshal resorted to more…unconventional means. He intercepted a pair of oil-bearers and seized the large bucket of boiling oil that they carried, holding it with his right hand. Had adrenaline not been roaring through his veins like a great tsunami wave, he most likely would not have been capable of bearing that kind of weight on just one arm.

As it was, he was only able to lift it one-handed for a minute or so before his strength began to give out. Luckily, he was able to find the second thing he needed; a torch. Many of the torches that had been mounted on the ramparts overnight had gone out or had been knocked out of place in the fighting. The Marshal chanced upon one of the few remaining lights that had not been disturbed. He grasped it with his left hand and brought it to his mouth, clamping his teeth around the thinner end of the torch's handle. This freed up his left hand, allowing him to hold the bucket of boiling oil with all his strength.

"To the Marshal!" a booming voice thundered somewhere behind Akai Hanako as he continued to sprint toward the rebels. "Rally to the Marshal!"

Akai never found out who had rallied the men, but that person had likely just saved his life. The Marshal was ready to charge headfirst into the rebels' position, but could see now that he likely would have been cut down before even making it within ten feet of the ladders. With a dozen or so samurai charging with him, however…that changed things. While the others engaged the rebels, doing their best to clear a path for their Marshal, Akai stepped up onto the parapet and ran along the very edge of the walls, jumping over the crenellations.

Several times, an enemy soldier attempted to slash at Akai's legs, but the Marshal was able to evade these attacks by leaping over them.

More loyalists who had seen the Marshal running in this direction joined the fight, forcing most of the rebels to keep their attention firmly fixed on holding their position. Archers began targeting the rebels, and men started to fall once more, feathered shafts sprouting from their armor.

Finally, the Marshal reached the ladders. He did not hesitate—planting his feet firmly and crouching down a little to lower his center of gravity, Akai lifted the bucket of boiling oil and heaved it as hard as he could, sending the burning hot liquid flying. The oil struck three of the four ladders; the Marshal's throw had not been strong enough to reach the fourth. But no matter; one ladder was easier to handle than four. The Marshal cast aside the empty bucket and pulled the torch from his mouth, holding it down to the rungs of the first ladder.

The upper reaches of the ladder, still dripping with oil, burst into flame. This prevented the rebels below from continuing their ascent; their hands would burn when they grasped the flaming rungs, which would render them unable to use their weapons. And soon, the fires would cause the ladder to disintegrate. The Marshal repeated this process with the other two oil-laden ladders. He ended up killing two men on the second ladder, and then another on the third, as they found themselves suddenly consumed by hungry flames.

As for the fourth ladder, the Marshal did not have to worry. Four loyalist spearmen were already heaving it off the battlements, using their spears much in the same manner as the Marshal had done further to the north. Because there were four of them, though, it did not take them nearly as much time to topple the ladder as it had for the Marshal.

There were still a handful of ladders left standing, scattered at many different points along the walls, but they were largely contained. After the rebels' foothold crumbled, the fire of their attack seemed to diminish. Eventually, the surviving rebels still on the ramparts returned to their ladders and actually climbed back down. This puzzled the Marshal even further—those samurai would never retreat from a fight like this unless the Shogun himself had ordered them to do so.

Unfortunately, the Marshal soon got his answer. His questions of why the Shogun had waited so long before attacking, of the manner in which the Shogun was assaulting the walls, of why the rebel samurai were retreating—all these questions had the same answer: the Centralians. Four years ago, the Shogun had not possessed Centralian aid. This initial attack had served to lull the defenders into a false sense of security, of knowing that the rebels would not take the walls. But this had only distracted them while the Shogun deployed his ace in the hole.

The Marshal saw them emerge from the woods in a neat line. The Ainu Empire was well on the way to discovering their own equivalents to these weapons, but the technique had not quite yet been perfected. They did not even have a true name in Kurigana, the language of the Ainu, so the Marshal simply used their Commonspeak name.

"Cannons…" the Marshal murmured, a claw of uncertainty worming its way into his heart. The Shogun had cannons supporting his army. How had his scouts missed this? How had the Shogun kept them a secret? He must have disguised them with his supply wagons, and he obviously had not used them throughout his entire march to the capital, saving them for this very moment.

And the moment the Marshal saw the cannons, the last pieces of the puzzle clicked into place. He remembered Iulus Fernandos, the Praetor of Centralia. He had come to Kātayō in an effort to secure the aid of the Ainu people in the war against Zamorak. He had come too late, however; the Sun Emperor was already tainted by the Dark One. The Emperor had made the Marshal order his men to subdue the Praetor in the throne room, and then imprison him. Later that night, a tiny force of the Shogun's samurai had infiltrated the Sun Palace, and they had spirited the Praetor away.

After the Centralian warship fought its way out of the bay and into the ocean beyond, the Marshal had heard absolutely nothing about them. It was as if they had simply vanished into the mist, gone to another world. But those rebel samurai who had rescued the Praetor…they must have directed the Centralians to the Shogun's place of exile. And then the Shogun must have succeeded in convincing the Praetor to help him take the capital. They had obviously stripped the Centralian warship of its cannons, and then brought the artillery along with them as they marched across Oēn.

All of a sudden, the certainty of holding the walls had evaporated. The defenders saw that those cannons had a good chance of breaching their defenses.

The cannons had been deployed in formation, in line with the capital's eastern gate. The Marshal watched the cannons draw closer and closer to the walls, moved along by the light-skinned foreigners. He summoned a runner and, after taking a deep breath, instructed the young man to summon the entire army. There were thousands of men still in the city who were not currently on duty—they would rotate out in shifts with the men currently fighting on the walls. But with the new danger of the walls possibly getting breached… The Marshal wanted every able-bodied man near the eastern walls.

The cannons drew to a halt. The gunners spent another few moments aiming and positioning their weapons before stepping aside. Akai saw a tall man dressed in what looked like a naval uniform pacing up and down the lines of his makeshift field battery. After a few more seconds of adjustments, the Centralian naval officer raised his hand to the air, and brought it down sharply. Though the Marshal could not hear him, Akai knew that the officer had just given the command to fire.

And the cannons obeyed. Fire and smoke roared out of the barrels of the artillery weapons as they all opened fire with an ear-shattering, thunderous explosion that could rival the fury of a typhoon. The Marshal could only watch helplessly as the opening barrage of cannonfire slammed into the eastern gate, shattering the loyalists' certainty of a swift victory.

---

The explosion was heard all throughout the capital. Even underground.

Lord Fernando had just woken up ten or fifteen minutes ago, and he was in the process of boiling water over the stovetop for water. It was part of his morning ritual, making coffee. Were it not for his routines, he would have lost his sanity a long while ago; he had been stuck in this underground chamber for weeks.

Niten and Mitsuyo were able to leave at regular intervals in order to pick up food and water, but Lord Fernando and Virens—one of Althos's marines from the Silver Arrow—were not so lucky. The Ainu Empire was relatively isolated from the rest of Gielinor, making foreigners a rare occurrence. The only Centralians who would be able to blend in with a crowd of Ainu were the ethnic Karamjai, who possessed darker skin due to the climate of their home. Unfortunately, neither Fernando nor Virens were ethnic Karamjai—their white skin would make them stick out like a Zamorackian mage on Entrana.

And so, they had been forced to wait in this small, underground saferoom, built in the bedrock that formed the foundation of the inn up above. Scattered across many different points of the capital city were additional, similar saferooms, which were serving as the hiding places of the rest of the combined Ainu-Centralian strike force. Lord Fernando was quite certain that Althos, Varro, and all the rest of the Centralian marines were every bit as anxious as he was to get out of their drafty prisons.

The signal. All they had to do was wait for the signal. Once the signal came, all the myriad splinter groups of the strike force would break cover and proceed to a rendezvous point near the Sun Palace. Once they all converged, the strike force would then attack the palace.

The signal came just as the Praetor was boiling the water for coffee. He was rifling through his bag for the coffee beans when the deep, booming explosion shattered the silence, nearly making him send the beans all over the room.

"Pendragon's cock, what in hellfire was that?" Virens mumbled as he was jerked back into the waking world, his words partially slurred from the lingering weariness.

"That, my friend, was the signal!" Lord Fernando exclaimed. Niten and Mitsuyo were already shrugging on their armor, reacting to the explosion with almost inhuman reflex. In order to catch up, Fernando and Virens had to move extra fast. They swiftly got into their armor and buckled their weapons to their belts. They all then donned long, brown cloaks to conceal their armor—this would allow them to move through the city and reach the rendezvous point without arousing too much suspicion. Virens especially needed the cloak to hide his bulky shield.

Once the four warriors were fully armed and ready to move, Mitsuyo started climbing up the ladder that scaled one of the chamber's walls. Lord Fernando brought up the rear, allowing everyone else to go first. The ladder took him up through the shaft and into a bedchamber. An inn was built over the secret chamber, and this was one of its rooms. Niten opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. He led his companions up the small flight of stairs to the ground floor, and then out the back entrance of the inn.

Lord Fernando had no way of knowing the time of day. Judging by the position of the sun, it was perhaps two hours past sunrise. The Shogun must have initiated a conventional attack on the walls before bringing up the cannons. He had told the Praetor that he was going to do something along those lines, but Fernando had not thought he would wait nearly two hours before giving the signal.

Niten and Mitsuyo led the way. This was only proper, as neither Fernando nor Virens knew the capital city like the backs of their hands. The foursome flitted from street to street. There were groups and patrols of imperials jogging down the roads, all of them heading east to the walls, hurrying to reinforce the Marshal's position. Everyone seemed to have heard the cannons.

The thunderous explosions still broke out every few minutes. Lord Fernando knew that Captain Harcourt was out there, somewhere, directing those makeshift field batteries against the eastern gate. Who knows? Maybe he would even succeed in breaching the walls, and then the Marshal would really start to sweat. Anything that took the defenders' attention away from the Sun Palace would be a great help.

The palace could be seen from all parts of the city. Lord Fernando kept glancing up at the Ainu castle, waiting impatiently as it grew closer and closer. The inhabitants of the capital seemed to be staying in their homes; Niten's party did not come across very many civilians. Almost all of the other people they saw were imperial samurai and their soldiers. The fishermen had already departed, leaving only a few brave merchants and shopkeepers to populate the streets.

Lord Fernando was glad that no one took notice of them. Niten and Mitsuyo may have been able to talk them out of a fix, but a curious loyalist samurai might have wondered why the other two members of the group completely obscured themselves with cloaks and never spoke. All it would take was one quick look under the hood, one glimpse of Fernando or Virens's Centralian features…

But no one stopped them. All of the loyalist forces were fixated on the eastern walls, wanted to know what was causing the Marshal to mobilize his entire force. No one paid any mind to the four warriors running towards the heart of the city—there were dozens of runners and messengers moving back and forth between the palace, the eastern walls, and the armories. They would not attract any attention as long as they did not stop moving.

There was a golden statue of Yoakenohoshi, the legendary First Emperor, erected in the middle of the Koganeno Square—the largest marketplace of Kātayō, located in front of the gate to the inner city. The square was the rendezvous point, and the statue of the First Emperor was where Niten waited, while the rest of the group dispersed. Lord Fernando tried to linger, but Niten sent him on his way, instructing him to "Wait for the gate."

Lord Fernando kept to the fringes of the square. Long cloaks always looked less conspicuous in the shadows. While the Praetor meandered his way through the square, doing his best to stay away from the locals, he would catch glimpses of other cloaked figures—shady men lurking in the alleys, behind kiosks, wherever there were shadows. He was not alone.

Keeping Niten's last words to him in mind, Lord Fernando kept glancing over at the gate set into the inner city walls. Similar to the walls that separated the Royal Palace from the rest of Tethys, the Ainuin Palace was separated from the rest of Kātayō by the inner city walls, which were currently sealed. Back when Lord Fernando had hatched this plan on Ito with the leaders of the Ainu rebellion, Lord Fernando had brought up the obstacle posed by the inner walls, but Niten had assured the Praetor that his men would handle it.

Lord Fernando had not bothered to ask how they were going to handle it; Niten's word was good enough. Five minutes passed. Then ten minutes, then fifteen, twenty… Lord Fernando saw several cloaked Ainu pause at the statue of Yoakenohoshi and exchange a few brief words with Niten. Members of the other groups that made up the strike force checking in, most likely. Wouldn't want to begin the attack prematurely, when only half the force was present.

A full half-hour after Lord Fernando's arrival at Koganeno Square, the last of the strike force's section leaders checked in with Niten. Once this was done, Niten casually reached up and pulled down his hood, showing his face. He took a moment to smooth his beard before reaching under his cloak and pulling out his kabuto, his helmet. The helmet had been too bulky to wear under the cloak's hood, so he'd had to conceal it.

Like the rest of his armor, Niten's kabuto was a deep maroon in color, with a bright yellow crest comprising of a sun disk and horns. The samurai leader glanced up at the gatehouse across the square for a moment, then placed the helmet onto his head. He then tied his menpō over his face. The menpō, or 'facial armor', was ebony black, and it depicted a face twisted in pain. The only part of Niten's face that was still visible was his eyes.

That must have been some kind of signal, because suddenly the Praetor could hear noises coming from the gatehouse on the inner city walls. Crashes, shouts, pounding footfalls…and then the unmistakable sound of steel cutting through flesh and bone. This attracted the attention of pretty much everyone in the square—everyone knew there was fierce fighting at the eastern walls, but no one had expected to encounter any violence in front of the palace, of all places.

After the noises died down, there was silence for about ten seconds, or so. Then, with a creaking tremor, the inner city gates started to open. Although Niten had not specifically stated that this was what he had meant when he'd told the Praetor to watch the gate, Lord Fernando was certain that this was what he had been waiting for.

Niten cast off his cloak, revealing his maroon armor in all its splendor. He drew his katana and pointed it up towards the Sun Palace, shouting something in rapid-fire Kurigana. Though the translation of the battle cry was lost on Lord Fernando, its meaning was still clear.

"Now, lads, NOW!" Althos's deep tones boomed out across the square. If the exclamation in Kurigana was not enough for the Centralians, the marine centurion's shout did the trick. All over Koganeno Square, men suddenly broke cover; threw off their cloaks, stepped out of the shadows, revealed themselves. Samurai in lacquered armor that gleamed in the sunlight, Itoan shamans in their leather armor and robes, and Centralian marines clad in full legionary battle dress; all converging on the statue of the First Emperor. Within seconds, there was a force of roughly sixty men moving through the now-open gates. It had to be one of the most bizarre coalitions Gielinor has ever seen, ever since the cooperation between Zamorackian and Saradominist forces to bring down the remnants of Zaros's old empire.

It was around a quarter of a mile's distance between the inner walls and the palace hill. There were a few houses, a forge, a couple barracks and armories that dotted the area around the palace hill, but most of the land was like a garden. Niten's strike force charged forward on a stone road that led from the inner city gate to the base of the Emperor's Stair. The road itself was clear, but there were thick woods on either side. Side paths branched off from the main road, presumably leading to those houses and the other dwellings of the inner city. Lord Fernando even thought he'd caught glimpses of what looked like artificial ponds through the trees, but he did not have time to hang around and investigate.

Alarms could be heard coming from the Sun Palace up above—the chaos at the inner city gate had not gone unnoticed. Even now, no doubt, messengers were being sent to the Marshal to request for reinforcements; but with most of the imperial army at the eastern walls, drawn by Harcourt's cannons…reinforcements would take some time to arrive.

When the strike force reached the bottom of the Emperor's Stair, they were greeted by archers. The Sun Palace always kept up a sizeable force of elite warriors to guard the Emperor…but the strike force was not composed of novices, either. It comprised of the fiercest warriors handpicked by the Shogun himself. The Itoan shamans were renowned for their magical proficiency. And the Centralian legionaries…while not nearly as skilled in single combat as the Ainu, their tactics certainly threw a wrench into the Sun Palace's defenses.

During the planning stages of this operation, Lord Fernando had argued endlessly with Niten before the veteran samurai had finally agreed that it should be the Centralians who lead the charge up the stairs. Niten always was under the impression that the attack on the palace should be led and carried out by his own men, with the Centralians in reserve. The Praetor was more than happy to let the samurai do what they did best, but his reason for wanting to lead the charge up the stairs was purely because he wanted to minimize losses…which the Centralians would be able to do.

The marines took the front, along with Rei and three of his shamans, as they started ascending the Emperor's Stair. Althos barked out an order, and his men formed up into six rows of four, with the four shamans up towards the front. They jogged up the stairs at a steady pace—neither running nor walking. Centralian legionaries could jog at this pace in full armor all day long without tiring.

A large force of the palace guards had assembled at the top of the stairs, many of them armed with bows. A sharp command was issued. The archers took aim, fired. Lord Fernando could hear the collective twang of the bows firing at the same time, the quiet hiss of arrows shooting through the air.

"Testudo!" Althos roared, banging his scutum, his shield with his gladius several times. "Form testudo!"

It was one of the commands that had been drilled into the legionaries' minds time and time again during the training, during battle. Immediately after Althos gave the command, the front rank of marines held their scutum shields up in front of them, almost up to eye level. All of the other ranks grasped their shields by the sides and hoisted them up over their heads, forming a makeshift roof of metal. Testudo was an Old Language term, translating into Commonspeak as 'Tortoise'. It was an apt name for this infantry maneuver; the wall of shields covering the front and top of the formation did loosely resemble the shell of a tortoise.

The men moved in perfect unison, climbing up step after step. The testudo formation saved the legionaries from the hail of arrows. Had the samurai led the charge up the Emperor's Stair, they would have taken a good many losses before they were able to reach the archers at the top. The marines moved much more slowly, but they took virtually no losses.

Lord Fernando was sandwiched in between the second and third ranks—he could not contribute to the testudo because he did not possess a scutum. It was incredibly hot and stuffy under the 'tortoise shell' of shields; all the Praetor could really hear was the sound of heavy breathing and grunting, as well as the constant, rhythmic footsteps of over twenty men jogging in perfect unison. Then the arrows started hitting the testudo. Arrows clanked off the curved, rectangular shields as the archers kept up their fire. Once or twice, an arrow would slip between a crack in the formation, a narrow space between two shields. Lord Fernando would hear a disruption in the rhythm of footsteps, a stumble, a grunt of pain, a muttered curse.

Varro started to shout the legionary battle chant. It was used to keep the rhythm of an advance while marching into a fight—the Testudo formation, especially, relied on precise, synchronized movements in order to remain intact. If men started fell out of rhythm, the tortoise shell would collapse. And the chant itself was something every soldier knew; it wasn't even composed of actual words, only vowel sounds.

Ay-ee-eye-yo! Ay-ee-eye-yo!

The marines all took up the chant along with their optio, climbing up another step with each resounding syllable, focusing all their energy into one single task; pressing onward. About halfway up the Stair, however, Lord Fernando became aware of a different, deeper noise. Something else was striking the tortoise shell, and it was much more powerful than the arrows. The temperature within the formation began to increase even more.

"Fire!" one of the marines in the first rank shouted, looking through the gap between the top of his shield, which was held up to eye-level, and the edge of the scutum belonging to the man behind him. "They're shooting fire down at us!"

"Shamans to the rear!" Althos ordered. "Shamans to the rear!"

The four Itoan shamans marching with the Centralians ducked down low and allowed the marines to pass around them, straightening back up once the last rank of marines passed them by. They started chanting under their breaths, moving their arms and hands in swift, flowing motions as they fell back into step with the Centralians. Wind started to swirl around the climbing testudo formation, forming a cocoon-like shell of air around the advancing marines. Every time the imperial mages shot fire down at the testudo, the shell of wind was able to disperse their magic.

The mages started invoking the other elements. Lord Fernando quickly stopped trying to comprehend the sounds that he was hearing. He could barely see anything of what was happening outside the tortoise shell, but the few times he was able to get a brief glimpse through the shields of the magical combat taking place around the formation, it was nearly enough to make his head spin. But ultimately, magic was outside the Praetor's sphere of influence, so Fernando ignored it. He trusted in the skill of Rei and the other shamans, and that was enough to keep him calm.

The Praetor focused only on climbing up to the next stair. There was something about fighting in a Legion that was quite, quite different than conventional swordplay. The effectiveness of the Centralian military came not from the individual skill of its soldiers; it came from the ability of dozens, hundreds of men to work in perfect harmony with one another in order to bring down a more powerful foe. Lord Fernando found that whenever he fought as part of a formation, he almost experienced what could best be described as a loss of individuality. He was not even a man, anymore; he was merely a small part of a much larger machine.

Suddenly, the monotony was broken by Althos giving a new order: "Form battle lines!"

Lord Fernando realized that they were no longer climbing steps. The loyalist samurai at the palace entrance had stopped firing arrows at the advancing Centralians once it became clear that their strategy was not working against the Testudo formation. Instead, they withdrew from the top of the stairs and drew their swords. The Praetor knew that Niten was on his way up the Stair with his samurai—they had started ascending the Stair once the defenders had abandoned their bows. The rest of the shamans were with them, as well as Cicero. Though Cicero had wanted to accompany the marines, Lord Fernando and Niten had denied him this wish; they would not risk Cicero's life by putting him at the front of the advance, not when he was the most crucial part of the plan to cleanse the Sun Emperor.

One of the loyalist samurai let out a raw-throated shout—something in Kurigana that, again, Lord Fernando was not able to catch—and the fifty or so samurai who had been mustered at the palace entrance all leveled their katana and charged the Centralians.

The moment Althos had given the command to form battle lines, the second and third ranks of marines immediately brought their shields down to cover their front and fanned out. The second rank moved to the left and the third to the right—both of them stepping forward so that they were level with the men of the front line, forming a new, much longer first rank. The exact same thing happened with the rear half of the former testudo formation—the fourth, fifth, and sixth ranks all combined into a larger reserve line for the first rank. They did not form straight lines, though; they were curved in an arc, so as to prevent any loyalist samurai from attempting to get around them and attack from the rear.

"Draw swords!" Althos thundered. "Prepare to repulse!"

The marines in the first rank drew their gladii in unison and locked shields. The front rank crouched slightly to lower its center of gravity, which would allow them to be able to take the impact of a large group of charging men. To further this, the second rank of marines actually braced the men in front of them by having their sword hands on their backs. They would not have to draw their swords until the order to switch ranks was given.

The Centralians all grunted with exertion when the charging samurai slammed into the first rank. The marines were actually driven back several large paces by the sheer ferocity of their opponents. One unfortunate marine fell, slashed across an exposed thigh. The attacking samurai raised his katana and brought it straight down towards the fallen marine's heart, but the strike was deflected at the last moment by another marine from the second rank, who stepped forward to take the place of his wounded comrade.

After the shock of the initial impact, the marines were able to regain their footing. Upon Althos's command, the front rank all let out a quick, sharp yell and pushed their shields forward, forcing many of the samurai back. Pressing this advantage, the marines thrust their blades through the gaps in their shields, catching many of the loyalist samurai off guard. And before the samurai could shred the exposed marines, the Centralians quickly stepped back and reformed their shield wall.

The loyalist samurai withdrew, eyeing their foreign opponents with wariness, now. The Centralians had proven themselves resilient to a frontal charge. While together, they would be able to continue to repel wave after wave of attacks…so, to combat this, the loyalists would have to divide them. Individually, the Centralians were weaker fighters. Fortunately, before the loyalists were able to start trying to pick apart the marines' formation, Niten arrived with the rest of the strike force.

There was no war cry, this time. Niten launched himself right into the midst of the loyalist samurai without a single word, like a vengeful shadow. Blood flew through the air as his katana got its first taste of blood. Right behind him came the rest of the rebel samurai and the Itoan shamans, all of them joining the fight and matching the ferocity of the loyalists with a fire of their own. Even Cicero, despite his superiors' suggestions that he remain to the rear, had joined the melee, supporting his comrades with magic wherever he could.

Under Niten's orders, presumably, the rebel samurai seemed more inclined to incapacitate the loyalists, rather than actually kill them. Lord Fernando was quite certain that the loyalists were not affording them the same luxury. The marines did not seem to be very keen on taking quarter, either. Many of those men were weary of this land. They wanted to see their homeland, again, and these warriors were standing in the way of that.

While Niten's samurai and the Itoan shamans drove through the loyalists, Althos kept his marines moving forward, straightening the arc into more of a wedge formation. The legionaries were not jogging, anymore. They were not moving particularly fast…but they had a steady pace, and it never wavered. No matter what the splintered loyalists tried against the Centralians, nothing stopped their march.

The Centralians were very methodical in their approach to battle. They did not follow the rigid doctrine of honorable combat favored by the Ainu. They were a machine—cold, emotionless, ruthless. They had no qualms about fighting unfairly against the samurai. Every time a loyalist tried to engage one of the marines in a duel, the targeted Centralian would simply incapacitate the samurai with his shield, and then another marine would finish the job with a quick jab before the samurai could regain his footing. Somewhat lacking in honor, perhaps…but effective nonetheless.

Step by step, the Centralian wedge pushed through the melee and cut a path straight to the palace entrance. Lord Fernando pushed on the heavy wooden doors, but—not surprisingly—they did not budge. Either they were bolted from the inside, or they were magically sealed in some way. Either way, the strike force was not going to get into the palace through conventional means.

"Rei!" Lord Fernando shouted over to the elderly shaman, who was healing the wounds of one of Niten's samurai. He failed to hear the Praetor's call, so Lord Fernando cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted again. This time, Rei heard. "We need these doors open!"

The Praetor had expected Rei to gather all of his shamans and blast open the door with a gigantic fireball, or something along those lines…but instead, Rei only brought himself over to the palace entrance, leaving his fellow shamans to assist Niten's men in subduing the rest of the palace guards. And he did not open the doors with Fire, but with Wind.

Before getting started, Rei gave the palace doors a push of his own, followed by a series of knocks at several different places. The shaman then placed his hands on both doors and closed his eyes, murmuring softly under his breath. When he pulled back, he gave a single nod to Lord Fernando and bared his arms. "The doors are locked with three wooden braces," he said to the Praetor, speaking in barely-intelligible Kurigana. Fortunately, he spoke slowly enough for Fernando to understand him. "Have your men stand back, please."

The elderly shaman cupped his hands and started moving them around each other, as if he were moving his hands over the surface of a ball. A soft breeze started to swirl around the shaman, which gradually intensified into a strong wind. But even as the wind increased in strength, it also decreased in size. The Praetor then saw that Rei was not only strengthening his wind; he was compressing it into a ball, containing it within his hands. Although air was invisible, the distortion of the compressed wind was great enough for it to actually look like Rei held a tangible ball in his grasp.

After a full minute of strengthening his wind, Rei held his hands out in front of him, palms parallel. He then pressed his palms almost together—there was barely a centimeter between them. As a consequence, the sphere of wind actually flattened into a wide disk, spinning through his palms. Rei held his hands extremely steady and crouched down to the ground. He gingerly reached forward and inserted the disk of wind into the thin crack between the two palace doors. Once the wind disk was in between the doors, Rei lifted his arms abruptly and opened his palms. This sent the spinning disk of wind shooting straight up through the crack between the doors and into the ceiling above.

Functioning like a saw blade, the disk of super-concentrated wind was enough to blow through the three braces holding the doors closed from the inside. This could have been done much more easily with a 'saw blade' of Water, but there were no convenient ponds or rivers right in front of the Sun Palace, so Rei had to make do with Wind.

Althos got the marines back on the march, forming them up into a column. The Centralians advanced into the palace's grand hall, which stretched all the way to the center of the palace, where the throne room lay beyond another set of doors. The doors at the other end of the hall, however, were already open. Rei would not have to conjure anymore wind.

Just as the Centralians entered the palace, Niten followed them inside, along with the rebel samurai and the Itoan shamans. After having a quick word with Niten, Althos halted his marines for a few moments, allowing the Ainu to move past them. Once Niten's men passed them by, the centurion got his unit moving again. Lord Fernando, however, remained in the front, walking forward alongside the samurai commander.

The strike force moved down the hallway, which was completely empty. Normally, palace guards would stand at attention along both sides of the hall, holding banners. At least, that was how it had been when Lord Fernando had last visited the Sun Palace. Perhaps those guards were now lying outside the palace entrance, either dead or unconscious.

Fernando noticed that Niten had removed his facial armor. Perhaps he did not want to hide behind a mask of anonymity when confronting the Emperor.

The throne room had not changed very much. Large, bronze braziers—one set in each corner of the chamber—gave the throne room most of its illumination. The shadows were offset by a series of smaller lanterns that hung from the ceiling. At the far end of the chamber was a canopy, which had transparent, silk curtains that hung to the floor, though the front curtain was drawn open. And under the canopy, partially shrouded in shadow, the Sun Emperor sat on his throne.

There were another dozen palace guards surrounding the Emperor's throne. They all drew their katana and started forward, but they did not make it very far. "Teishi," the Sun Emperor commanded, holding up a hand.

Stop.

The Sun Emperor rose from his throne and emerged from his canopy, stepping into the light. Lord Fernando's breath caught in his throat—the Emperor looked even worse than he had the last time Fernando had seen him. His skin was deathly pale, his lips colorless. His face was gaunt, looking more and more like a skull than an actual face. And the eyes…black as night, they were like voids; devoid of any life or emotion. He was also bald; his short black hair appeared to have fallen out.

In short, he looked like death on legs.

The Emperor's lips parted in a cold smile as his throne room was invaded. "Well, this is quite an ensemble we have here. Niten Dōraku, the famous swordsman of the Kasai Mountains… I have heard many stories about you, Niten. Tell me…is it true what they say? That you were raised by wolves? You do have the look of a dog, so perhaps there is some truth to the fiction…" the Emperor slid his gaze over to Lord Fernando. "And, of course, Lord Iulus Fernandos, Praetor of the Centralian Kingdom. It would seem that you did not simply skulk off into the night, as I was led to believe. But I sense an emptiness, here… Where is your master, Niten? Has he dishonored me by sending only his lapdog to confront me, while he remains far away?"

Niten did not respond. Lord Fernando could not tell what he was thinking or feeling—the samurai commander's face was completely unreadable. Before Niten could say anything in reply, however, the Praetor quickly spoke up, dimly aware of the force of rebel samurai entering the room behind him.

"I would have words with the Emperor," Lord Fernando requested.

The Sun Emperor arched an eyebrow ever so slightly, ignoring the arrival of the rebel samurai. "He stands before you."

"I see no Emperor before me," Lord Fernando countered. "I see only a shell, stolen over by a pretender. I would have this man's mind restored, your taint burned away."

"Is that so?" the Sun Emperor laughed—an unpleasant sound that made the Praetor want to cringe. "You might as well turn back now, fool. None of these men will lift a finger against their Emperor. You are alone."

It was Lord Fernando's turn to smile as he heard the familiar synchronized footsteps approaching. "Actually, as fate would have it, I am far from alone," the Praetor stepped aside, allowing the Sun Emperor to see the force of Centralian marines marching into the throne room, swords drawn and shields raised.

Lord Fernando turned back to face the Emperor, only to see the blur of a blade streaking towards his neck. Instinct taking over, the Praetor dropped to the floor, avoiding the strike that nearly decapitated him by less than an inch. He rolled backwards and sprang back up to his feet, drawing his mithril saber in time to meet the Emperor's next blow, which was aimed at his chest.

Lord Fernando deflected the blow and counterattacked, but was effortlessly blocked at every turn by the Sun Emperor. Even in such a degraded state, the Emperor was a formidable swordsman.

The twelve palace guards all leaped into action, making a beeline for the Praetor, but they were intercepted by Niten. Somehow—the Praetor was too occupied to get a good look—but somehow, Niten was able to delay them until his force of samurai reached him, driving the palace guards back away from the Emperor.

The Praetor was barely able to block the Emperor's next strike. He started stepping forward, intending to lock their blades, when suddenly the Ainu leader clenched his fist and punched it forward. There was a rushing of hot air, then suddenly Lord Fernando felt a blast of heat across his chest. He was blown off his feet, flying back several yards through the air before landing on his back and skidding a short distance.

The Emperor had just blasted him with Fire—the whole front of Fernando's leather armor had been disintegrated, and his under-clothes were scorched black and falling apart. His flesh had been badly burned, but the actual pain felt…distant…almost like a thunderstorm looming on the horizon. The Praetor spat out a globule of blood and pulled himself gingerly into a sitting-up position, pausing several times to regain his breath. This was even more evidence of the Emperor's corruption—he was not a mage, yet he manipulated the elements with the skill of a Mahjarrat.

The Emperor was coming towards him, grasping his katana with both hands and raising it in anticipation of the killing blow that he was about to give to the Praetor. He moved past his palace guards, who were steadily getting beaten back by Niten's samurai, continued towards the fallen Centralian Praetor.

"A man of strong opinions…" the Ainu monarch chuckled quietly to himself as he stood over Lord Fernando, placing his blade onto the Centralian's neck, gently. Lord Fernando had no strength to fight back—any sudden movement on his part would cause the pain of his burns to explode within him, and then he would be incapacitated, easy prey for the Sun Emperor anyway. "A man of strong opinions, perhaps…but, unfortunately, the same cannot be said for your fighting prowess."

The Sun Emperor laughed one last time, raised his katana high above his head, brought it slicing down towards the Praetor's head…and hesitated at the last moment, his blade quivering barely three inches from Fernando's neck. The Emperor drew in a deep, sharp breath, his chest heaving up and down. The Praetor looked up at him. The Sun Emperor's face was twisted and contorted with what looked like extreme pain. For a brief moment, Fernando thought the Emperor's eyes had turned light brown, but when the Praetor looked more closely, they had reverted back to their previous, empty black state.

The Emperor stopped breathing heavily and seemed to calm down, raising his blade once again.

"It seems that your control over the Emperor is not quite as strong as you would have me believe," Lord Fernando murmured.

"If only you could see how hard he tries to fight me," the Sun Emperor chuckled. "It is quite amusing, really… Now, Praetor Iulus, I am afraid your time is at an end-"

Suddenly, the Emperor was gone, blown off his feet by an extremely powerful blast of Wind. Lord Fernando's abdomen started to give out, sending him back onto the floor, but he was caught by Althos before he could fall. "Come on, now, sir," Althos grunted, throwing one of the Praetor's arms over his shoulder and helping him over to where Niten was standing. "Let's get you on your feet. You should be standing for this…"

The Emperor picked himself back up to his feet, only to get hurled back by an even more powerful blast of Wind, landing in front of his throne. This Wind blast blew down the canopy, sending the curtains flying, leaving the throne exposed.

The fighting had died down, by now, and the surviving samurai and marines gradually formed a semi-circle around the throne, watching the Emperor struggle back to his feet. Lord Fernando turned towards the throne room entrance and saw Cicero enter the room, his arms bared and his hood down. Behind him, the Itoan shamans, led by Rei, walked in step with him. All of the shamans eyes' were closed, their heads bowed, and they were all humming under their breath.

"What are they doing?" Fernando asked Niten.

"A limited soul transfer…" Niten murmured. "This is the first time I have seen one involving more than two people, though… Basically, your mage is acting as a vessel for the combined strength of all of the shamans. Through him, they will be able to cleanse the taint of the Emperor without directly attacking him."

"And how will they rid the Emperor of Zamorak's influence? Sorcery?"

Niten shook his head, his eyes filled with wonder and anticipation. "They are shamans, Praetor. They deal with the spirit world… They will call the Emperor's ancestors. Such craft is rarely ever used in the manner of an exorcism...we are about to witness something extraordinary."

The Sun Emperor's lip curled back in an animalistic snarl, and he punched both hands forward, sending twin jets of fire roaring toward the Centralian mage. In response, Cicero planted his feet and blocked the fire with another blast of Wind, blowing the flames away and dissipating them. Before the Emperor could make another move, Cicero refocused the third blast of wind and sent it straight into the Ainu monarch, pushing him down into his throne. Cicero than clenched his hand into a fist and compressed the air around the throne, which rendered the Sun Emperor immobile, barely able to breathe with the air pressing down on him.

With the Sun Emperor unable to fight back, now, a critical point was reached in the shamans' magic, and they began their work in earnest. While Cicero continued to hold the Emperor down, bolstered by the combined strength of the shamans, Rei started to chant in some old, archaic dialect of Kurigana that even the samurai could not understand.

The Sun Emperor started to struggle, but Cicero's hold held firm. The Emperor attempted to invoke the elements, but Cicero increased the pressure bearing down on the Emperor's limbs, quashing the Ainu monarch's efforts. Finally, the Emperor sat back, regarding the men arrayed in front of him with loathing. But he turned his attention towards Lord Fernando.

"Complex tactics were never a strength of these Ainu fools… The Shogun may command the army at my walls, but you were the true puppeteer, Praetor, pulling at the strings of this battle," the Emperor leered Fernando. "You are merely delaying the inevitable. With or without the Ainu by your side, Centralia will burn. Even as we speak, your precious home is invaded from the east while your Warmaster flees westward. Soon, the fires will come to Tethys, and that sniveling whelp of a King will have nowhere else to run. I think I'll make him my pet… Amusing, don't you think, having a Centralian King crawling on all fours like a-"

"Cicero, would you please shut him up?"

Cicero gladly obliged. Every time the Emperor attempted to speak, the Centralian mage would block his trachea, causing him to choke.

Rei continued his chanting, growing steadily louder and louder. The temperature of the throne room seemed to drop, as well—Lord Fernando found himself shivering uncontrollably every few minutes. After nearly ten minutes of fervent chanting, there was a sudden gust of wind that blew through the room, despite the absence of windows, nearly extinguishing the lamps and braziers. Strangely, the chamber was still nearly plunged into darkness; the braziers and lamps were still lit, but it was as if the light had lost all of its strength. The now-dimmed room grew even colder—Lord Fernando could even see his breath. The men started to murmur and fidget, clearly unnerved.

"Calm yourselves, lads…" Althos sounded unsettled as well, but he maintained a stern tone.

Rei's chanting began to change. At first, Lord Fernando thought the elderly shaman's voice was growing raspy, but then he realized that there were other voices chanting as well, quiet as whispers. The Praetor craned his neck, turned to look at the other shamans…but was confused when he saw that none of them were chanting. They were all silent, still working in concert with Cicero to keep the Emperor restrained.

None of the marines or samurai were chanting, either—the Praetor was certain of that. Where, then, were these new voices coming from? As Lord Fernando listened closely, he found that the whispering voices were not coming from any particular direction…they were coming from all directions.

Then a figure appeared near the throne. At first, it appeared to merely be a trick of the dim, flickering light…but then the figure gained substance, and stepped towards the throne. The figure was clearly a man, but it was also transparent, glowing with an otherworldly light. Lord Fernando's first thought was that he was seeing a ghost…but he'd seen ghosts, before, and this was different. This…apparition…seemed less substantial than a ghost. It wavered like a desert mirage, as a mere breath of wind would dissipate it. It was clearly not a normal ghost; ghosts were the spirits of the deceased who remained on this plane of existence, for whatever reason…but the mirage-like specter near the throne looked like it still had one foot in the realm of the spirits. It was a visitor to this plane, not an inhabitant.

Niten sucked in a breath between tightly clenched teeth when he caught a glimpse of the ghostly man's face. "Tokiyasu, the previous Emperor… His father," the samurai commander nodded at the Sun Emperor. "Rei's summons have been heard."

More of these half-ghosts, these ancestral spirits, started to materialize around the walls of the throne room, near the four braziers at each corner. Initially, they appeared individually, or in groups of two or three…but after a minute, they appeared out of the light by the dozen until there were over a hundred of them. Emperors and Empresses of ages past, all gathered in this very room. Their attention was focused on the Sun Emperor, their descendant—they paid absolutely no heed to the members of the strike force or the surviving palace guards. The samurai and Centralians instinctively backed away from the throne as the spirits moved towards the Emperor.

Then one final spirit appeared, taller and brighter than all the rest. As he stepped forward, every Ainu in the chamber immediately fell to their knees and bowed down all the way down to the floor. The marines glanced at each other, unsure of what they should do. Lord Fernando recognized the spirit, however, from the statue out in Koganeno Square. It was Yoakenohoshi, the First Emperor, son of the sun god Tumeken—or Izanagi, as he was called by the Ainu.

Lord Fernando gave a respectful nod to the spirit as it passed him by, stepping back with Althos to rejoin the marines. The Centralians watched in an awed silence as the Sun Emperor's ancestors congregated in front of the throne. They passed through Cicero and the shamans, who remained completely motionless. They all stood in a ring around the Sun Emperor. It was difficult to describe—they were not gathered around the throne like a group of people; they were all standing…within each other. It was impossible for over a hundred people to stand in a circle that small, but spirits—lacking solid mass—could. The ring of spirits looked more like a circle of constantly shifting and moving light, obscuring the Sun Emperor from view.

The First Emperor stepped through the ring of the Sun Emperor's ancestors. He looked down at the corrupted man in the throne and spoke. His voice was quiet and disembodied, but still managed to command respect. "Child of my descendants… Rise up…"

The faint glow that the spirits were giving off suddenly exploded into a blinding radiance. The Centralians, who were still staring at the ritual, all cried out in pain and surprise, squeezing their eyes shut. Lord Fernando was able to open his eyes again, as long as he didn't look in the direction of the throne. But eventually, the light grew so bright that, even when Fernando had his eyes closed, it was still bright. He had to cover his eyes with his hands to fully block it out.

And then, like the snuffing of a candle, the light suddenly vanished.

---

The Marshal and his detachment of two hundred samurai had just reached the top of the Emperor's Stair when the blinding light suddenly started shining out through the palace entrance. It was much too bright to gaze at directly, so the loyalists were forced to hang back. The alternative was advancing against an enemy they could not see, which would have resulted in failure.

Akai had been struggling to deal with the cannons that the Centralians had brought up against the city walls. At first, he'd thought that those cannons were the Shogun's ace in the hole, his special strategy in order to gain victory here…but the moment the Marshal heard the ringing of the palace alarm bells, he knew that he had been deceived. Somehow, the Shogun had managed to get a force of his men over the city walls and into the capital. Perhaps he had done so days, weeks in advance. Perhaps he had planted troops in the capital before his army had even set foot on Oēn.

All those men would have had to have done was keep out of sight for a short while, until the time came for them to strike. Then the Shogun had brought his Centralian allies' cannons against the city, and the Marshal had done exactly what the Shogun wanted him to do. He had sent the vast majority of the imperial forces within the city to defend the eastern walls…leaving the path to the palace clear to anyone who happened to be hiding in the city, waiting to attack the Emperor.

It was unlike anything the Marshal had ever seen, before. He knew that his people had their fair share of capable tacticians, but something on this level…this kind of deeply thought-out, carefully planned, meticulously executed strategy… It stank of Centralian meddling. The Marshal wondered if the Centralian Praetor was one of those enemies attacking the Sun Palace—he seemed like the kind of person who would be able to pull something like this off, and the Marshal had not spotted him on the battlefield, yet, which he had thought strange.

The Marshal had immediately pulled two hundred samurai from the eastern walls and personally led them down the central boulevard to Koganeno Square, where they found the inner city gates opened and its gatekeeper unconscious with many broken bones. From there, it was straight up the Emperor's Stair, only to be halted by this infernal light…

Finally, the light subsided, allowing the Marshal to see into the palace once more. "Onward!" he cried, leveling his katana and sprinting straight through the palace entrance, two hundred determined samurai hot on his heels. He ran faster than he had ever run in his entire life, sprinting down the length of the grand hall in barely ten seconds. He barreled into the throne room, blade held high, ready to cleave it down into the first enemy who turned to meet him…only to be met with silence.

Upon entering the throne room, the Marshal's mind processed many different things at once.

The enemy force was comprised of rebel samurai and Centralian legionaries, but they were all scattered. The samurai were all on their hands and knees, bowing to the throne. The Centralians seemed to be in a sort of daze, but they were bowing as well—not as deeply as their Ainu counterparts, but still bowing nonetheless. Several rebel samurai and palace guards lay dead on the ground. Directly in front of the Emperor's throne, another Centralian lay unconscious. This man was not a legionary, however—he appeared to be a mage.

The Marshal saw Iulus Fernandos, the Centralian Praetor, which more or less confirmed his earlier suspicions of Lord Fernando being largely responsible for this attack on the palace.

He then swept his gaze upwards to the throne, and nearly fainted at what he saw. He had feared the worst; he had feared that the Emperor was dead, killed—or at the very least harmed by the rebels, by whatever that bright light had been.

But the Emperor was unharmed. In fact, he was standing up, gazing in what appeared to be utter puzzlement at the unconscious foreigner at his feet. He looked up as the Marshal entered the throne room, his brow furrowing in a confused frown.

"Marshal…?"

"Akitsukami," the Marshal dropped to his knees and bowed down to the floor in the presence of his Emperor.

The Sun Emperor's confusion increased even more as he watched another two hundred armed-to-the-teeth samurai charge into his throne room. He had only just regained consciousness and was still taking in the sight of his throne room and everyone in it, so this only added to the chaos. However, once the newly-arrived warriors took in the sight of the Marshal prostrate on the floor, and then of their Emperor looking at them in bewilderment, every single one of them dropped to their hands and knees as well.

"Akai-dono… Rise! Please, everyone, rise!" the Sun Emperor stepped away from his throne, gesturing for all of the prostrate samurai to stand back up.

"My Emperor…" the Marshal took a step forward, keeping his head bowed, "I accept responsibility for allowing this invasion of your palace… I was too focused on-"

"Marshal, you may stop averting your eyes," the Emperor interrupted.

The Marshal took the hint and stopped bowing his head. He looked up, met the Sun Emperor's gaze. He noticed that the Emperor's eyes were now a bright, light brown. Now that his subordinate was looking him square in the eye, the Sun Emperor leaned in close and asked the Marshal the very first thing that was on his mind.

"Would you mind explaining to me how a contingent of Centralians ended up in my throne room? Are we at war?"

---

Author's Note

Holy shit, that was the longest goddamn chapter I've ever written. I need a snack. But, as promised, I present you with a fuckload of action.
Happy 2012!

-TheAmateur