GenCon SoCal 2005
The Test of Enlightenment, Part 1

By Shawn Carman

 Kyuden Bayushi, two months ago

The package had arrived late in the evening, and none of the servants who had been working to clean the palace at that time had realized its significance. It was not until the morning that someone with an inkling of how such things worked saw it, and recognized it for what it was.

There was a soft rap on the panel of Bayushi Paneki’s private chambers. The Scorpion Champion had not yet finished preparing for the day, and quickly affixed his mask with an annoyed expression. “Enter,” he commanded. The shoji screen slid open with a whisper, and a petite woman clad in an exquisite crimson kimono entered, bowing low as she did so. “Good morning, Maru,” Paneki said, deliberately leaving off any suffix. “I trust you have good reason to disturb me so early?”

“I beg your forgiveness, my lord, but I do.” Shosuro Maru was among Paneki’s most successful hostesses. She could tend to the needs of dozens of important guests, all the while keeping a perfect mental record of their every action and interaction, never failing in her task to keep them happy and to ferret out their secrets. “A package arrived late last night. It is intended for you.”

Paneki continued straightening his robes, ensuring the immaculate image for which he was known. “I assume there is more, else you would not be here.”

“Yes,” she said. “The package bears the a diplomatic seal. A Crab diplomatic seal.”

Paneki raised an eyebrow. “Who delivered it?”

“We do not know,” Maru admitted. “The servants who received us could not describe them. The messenger appeared to be nothing more than a ronin, albeit one with the appropriate papers to be admitted to the outer chambers by your palace guards.”

“It seems the guard who watch over us as we sleep need to be reminded in the particulars of their duties,” Paneki said darkly. “Has the package been opened?”

“It has not. It was clearly addressed to you and you alone. I did not wish to open it without your permission.”

The Champion smiled slightly. “Ever observant of protocol, Maru-chan. Where is it now?”

She returned his smile. “My yojimbo is guarding it in a private chamber.”

“Take me there.”

The chamber Maru had temporarily claimed was away from the flow of traffic of Kyuden Bayushi’s visitors. It was smaller than most others, and not particularly lavish in its furnishings, so it was frequently used only when the palace was completely full. A lone samurai stood unmoving in the center, his gaze unwavering on the odd wooden box that resting on a pedestal in the center. His eyes flickered only slightly as Maru and Paneki entered. He bowed, then resumed his vigilance.

“Some might find this… scrutiny, rather odd,” Maru said to Paneki. “Given our current relations with the Crab, as well as their history of convenient alliances, I thought it best to be overly cautious.”

“Agreed,” Paneki said. “Your observations, Muhito?”

The solemn Bayushi Muhito inclined his head slightly, his expression inscrutable behind his mask. “It is light,” he said. “There is no sound if its position is changed save for a slight rustling, as if it contained cloth. There is a faint scent of blood.”

“Blood?” Maru blanched. “I smell nothing.”

“You are not so well acquainted with the scent as your yojimbo,” Paneki said with a smile. “Did you notice any acrid smells, Muhito? Anything pungent or peppery?”

“No, my lord.”

The Master of Secrets nodded grimly. “Open it.”

Muhito drew a short knife at once and stepped forward, hesitating only slightly. “It may be wise to step into the corridor,” he observed. “If there is treachery, it is best to take no chances.”

“Open it,” Paneki repeated.

Muhito nodded and carefully cut away the bindings, opening the box and peering inside. “Cloth,” he confirmed, drawing it out by the tip of his blade. “Bloodied scraps, mostly. And this.” He held it out. It appeared to be a hood, such as one would use to conceal one’s identify. It was torn in several places and had obviously been drenched in blood. He paused for a moment, then withdrew a small slip of paper as well. He inspected it, then held it out to the Champion.

Paneki took the paper and unfolded it, smirking as he read the short message. “I see,” he said, his tone almost bemused.

“Should we be concerned,” Maru asked.

“Not at all, Paneki said, handing her the paper. “It seems that the Emperor’s court may be more entertaining than I had first thought this season, however.” With that, he turned and walked from the room. Maru frowned and unfolded the paper. It contained only a single sentence.

Keep your dogs on a shorter leash. –K

“Kisada,” Maru said in a hushed tone.

Toshi Ranbo, the present

The Imperial Court was sometimes dull, but there was rarely a day that went by when there was not something unexpected or unusual to occupy the attention of even its most jaded attendants. In the opinion of Asahina Sekawa, anyone who could genuinely find the court boring on a regular basis was either a fool or one of the most dangerous minds in Rokugan. Perhaps that was why the look of thinly concealed boredom on Bayushi’s Kaukatsu’s face was so concerning to the Jade Champion. In his experience, the legendary Imperial Chancellor was at his most dangerous when he was looking for new entertainment.

Sekawa turned his attention to a brisk conversation between the Dragon ambassador, Kitsuki Tadashi, and a broad-shouldered monk. Tadashi was obviously struggling with anger, perhaps even outrage, but seemed to be keeping a polite expression and tone. The monk listened with an expression of earnestness and sincerity as a dozen onlookers hung on their every word. Sekawa wished he could hear them, but he feared he knew all too well of what they spoke. After a moment, Tadashi bowed curtly and turned to speak to another. The monk turned and strode across the room, clearly ignoring several who obviously wished to speak with him. The monk stopped before Sekawa and regarded him for a moment. “You have my gratitude, Keeper of the Five Rings.”

Sekawa bowed deeply. “It was my great honor to present you to the court, Mitsu-sama,” he said. “I only regret that the Dragon were not more understanding.”

“They are as they must be,” the monk said, his expression blank. “They are not yet ready to understand, but they will be. In time.”

The Jade Champion hesitated for a moment. “I cannot presume to know the ways of the Oracles, great Mitsu,” he said carefully, “but if you fear the Dragon have lost their way, would it not be more advisable to construct your Temple of Thunder within their mountains, that they might hear your wisdom? We are honored you have chosen to construct it within our lands, of course, but I would not wish to obfuscate your teachings with politics.”

The monk smiled, and for a moment he seemed almost to be the man he had once been, rather than the semi-divine entity he had become. “The Dragon cannot find the answers they require in the mountains. They have remained there for centuries. The time has come to step forth and be transformed. In time, they will seek out their own enlightenment, just as have the Crane.”

For a moment, Sekawa felt a surge of burning shame. His title as Keeper of the Five Rings was not entirely his by right. He had achieved it through means that some might consider dishonorable, but since that time he had struggled to earn his position. Surely an Oracle would know if he was a fraud? Or were matters of enlightenment obscured even to those who shared a dragon’s soul? “Of course, Mitsu-sama. As you know, all the Asahina possess is at your disposal for the construction of your temple.”

“Arigato,” Mitsu said. “I will take my leave now, for my presence will only further disrupt matters.” The old man offered a shallow bow, and then simply disappeared. Sekawa might have smiled at the startled expressions from those who had been watching to two men, but as he watched Kitsuki Tadashi return to a number of other, apparently sympathetic courtiers, the impulse died quickly. Tadashi, at least, recognized that the possibility of a two-front war against the Lion and Crane would be particularly difficult for the Dragon, and had begun seeking allies. Thus far, he appeared to have found them among the Minor Clans. The Dragon had sponsored both the Monkey and Ox clans in the courts this season. The high regard in which most held the Monkey would be a difficult obstacle in the eyes of many, and Sekawa did not even wish to consider the Monkey’s long-standing alliance with the Scorpion. And of course, the Ox cavalry was an unsavory topic to contemplate as well, particularly when one considered that the Ox were little more than bloodthirsty barbarians in the eyes of many.

“Good fortunes, Sekawa-sama.”

The Crane turned and bowed respectfully. “Good fortunes to you, Akodo Setai.”

The Lion statesman smiled. “I am never quite certain what to call you,” he said. “You bear so many titles it is difficult to be certain.”

“My friends call me Sekawa, as I hope you will,” he replied. “Even though there may well be dark times ahead for our clans.”

Setai’s face tightened. He struggled for a moment, before finally bowing his head. “Doji Kurohito was a great man,” he said quietly. “I mourned his death, though I celebrate that he passed on to Yomi with honor.”

“Thank you,” Sekawa said. “I know there are many Lion who do not share your view, and it makes your words all the more valuable.”

“There are not so many as you may think,” Setai confessed. “There are those who follow Masote and support his warmongering, true, but many more remember the man who willingly passed Toshi Ranbo into the hands of Matsu Nimuro in hopes of ending an old, needless feud. There is hope.” He paused for a moment. “How fares your new Champion?”

“Not well,” Sekawa admitted. “She struggles with anger and doubt. Your former kinsman Kusari has been a great help for her, but I fear she yearns for revenge.”

Setai nodded. “I hope she is strong enough to save what her father built,” he said simply.

“As do I.” Sekawa glanced around the room for a moment, glad for a brief silence that could alter the discussion. “I saw you speaking to the Unicorn ambassador.”

“Attempting to speak to him, you mean,” Setai answered, his tone darker. “He and his colleagues have no interest in speaking to me.”

“Nevertheless, it is good that you made the effort.”

The former Deathseeker shook his head. “Do not mistake my adherence to duty, nor my desire to maintain relations between your clan and mine, for a wish for a peaceful life, Sekawa-sama. I am a warrior, and though my task is to attempt peace, there is little more I would wish for than vengeance for my lord Nimuro.”

Sekawa frowned. “It is easy to forget the man you have been when I see the man you have become.”

“I am Lion,” Setai said blankly. “I can only change so much.”

A slight clamor from across the chamber drew Sekawa’s attention away from the response he hoped to make. There was a rather spirited discussion between representatives from the Mantis and Phoenix clans, as was normal throughout the recent season. In this particular instance, a rather vehement young Asako courtier was citing numerous historical documents in support of a movement among some Phoenix to dispute the Mantis Clan’s status as a Great Clan. Sekawa wondered if they realized they could well force the Emperor to repeal one of his father’s earliest decrees. Even if Toturi’s appointment of the Mantis was implied, would the Emperor contradict his father? Sekawa had his doubts. It was unfortunate that the Phoenix would embrace such a path, but Sekawa knew that those responsible were acting from a desperate passion to prove their cause and vilify an enemy that was, to them, the epitome of dishonor and disgrace.

Some days it seemed that the task of teaching others to find enlightenment had come at the worst possible time, when no one could see past their obsessive material and political concerns.

The mocking rebuttal of Yoritomo Yoshinko, a young Mantis courtier and the protégé of Yoyonagi, drew polite laughter from the crowd and caused the Asako to grow even redder in the face. The look of boredom seemed to fade from Kaukatsu’s face, and even the Emperor glanced up from his conversation with the Empress to see what was taking place. Sekawa had just begun to fear the Phoenix might become so incensed as to do something rash when the doors to the court chamber flew open with a loud report.

A man so large that it seemed ridiculous even to look upon him stood in the doorway, his massive frame concealed by a suit of battered armor that included a very familiar helmet design. The man glanced around the chamber once, quickly, then bowed. The Seppun behind him had their weapons at the ready, and clearly waited only for their Emperor’s command.

“Hida Kisada,” the Emperor said, his voice mild. “For a man that history tells us had not time for politics or melodrama, you certainly make an impressive entrance.”

The Emperor’s light tone and the sight of Kisada dropping to his knees seemed to relax the guards somewhat. Sekawa gestured for them to leave, and took his place between the Great Bear and the Emperor. “Forgive my rude entrance, my lord,” the huge man said. “Your guards were reluctant to admit me in my present attire.”

“It is most unusual for attendants to wear armor and bear weapons,” Bayushi Kaukatsu said. “It shows a certain lack of decorum and respect.”

“And yet in this case, it is necessary,” Kisada said, never looking away from the Emperor. “I have come on a grave matter, my lord.”

“Rise, Kisada,” the Emperor said. “I have no doubt that my father’s ally has come among us with good reason, and I would hear his purpose.” He waved away the guards that lingered between his dais and Kisada. “Speak, my friend.”

Kisada rose, but did not approach. “I once swore an oath that I would never again stray from my duty, Emperor. It is an oath I have kept above all others, particularly since my return to the mortal world. What I do now is in fulfillment of my duty to you and your dynasty.” With that, he gestured to the doorway.

A half-dozen Crabs, all armed and armored, appeared in the doorway. There were gasps from the courtiers, and at first Sekawa’s incredulous thought was that the legendary Crab hero was attempting some sort of coup. Then, however, he saw the man that walked in the center of the assembled Crab warriors, and he realized that Kisada’s purpose was far madder than he could have imagined.

The man walking in the center had an unhealthy pallor. His eyes were almost completely black, with only a halo of white around the edges. His hair was bound up in a traditional manner, but was clearly tattered and greasy. His clothing was equally tattered, and bore no clear indication of his allegiance. The most telling and frightening aspect of his unusual countenance, however, was the length of chain that secured his hands and ankles.

Chain that was studded with jade along its length.

The court chamber erupted in a cacophony of shouts and gasps. Sekawa said nothing, but his fists were instantly sheathed in fire and jade. Imperial guards seemed to appear from every corner of the room, forcing their way through the crowd to create a barrier between the Crab and the Emperor. Many of the court’s more martial attendants took their place among the guards as well, despite that they were unarmed.

“What is the meaning of this?” bellowed the massive Hitomi Vedau, easily the largest man in the room save Kisada. “You dare bring a man such as this into the Emperor’s presence?”

“Curious company you keep,” a quiet voice said. Others parted to allow the Scorpion Champion Bayushi Paneki a clear view of Kisada. “I suppose we are to be grateful for this opportunity to see the enormity of the Crab’s duty to the Empire? You perhaps hope to garner support for your brutish ways with such a demonstration?”

“For a so-called Master of Secrets, you are remarkably ignorant,” Kisada spat.

“Please explain, Kisada,” the Emperor said, bringing the chamber to silence at once. “And quickly.”

“It is the Crab’s duty to guard the Empire against incursions by the Shadowlands,” Kisada said. “Since my departure from this world, it has fallen to the office of Jade Champion to judge all those citizens of Rokugan who have consorted with the dark god.” He gestured to the prisoner. “While defending the Wall, we apprehended this man, a former subject of Rokugan who now serves Daigotsu. He was to be executed, but demanded his right to be tried and sentenced by the Jade Champion.”

“And so you brought him before the Imperial Court,” Kaukatsu said flatly.

Kisada looked at the Scorpion with undisguised hatred. “I followed my oaths of duty, both to the Emperor and to the Champions he has selected. Had I executed the man outright, I would have failed in my duty.” He turned to Sekawa. “It is my hope that the Jade Champion will authorize me to deal with future requests on his behalf, however.”

“You are so authorized,” Sekawa said.

“I commend you, Kisada,” the Emperor said, “although in the future it would be my wish that you adhere more closely to the spirit of my laws than the letter.”

Kisada bowed. “Thank you my lord. I will remove the prisoner now, assuming his sentence is as it should be?” He looked at Sekawa, who nodded.

“I wish to address the Emperor,” the prisoner said in a low, quiet tone.

The dull thud of Kisada’s backhand strike was almost eclipsed by the shouts of those in the court chamber who demanded the prisoner’s blood for daring request such a thing. It lasted only a moment before it grew quiet again at the Emperor’s command, but not before another biting comment from Paneki. “How fortunate we are that the Great Bear could permit us to hear an address from one of the Lost. To think that so many live their whole lives without such an honor.”

“I believe you should hear him, my lord.”

The entire court fell silent at Sekawa’s words, with only the dull clank of the prisoner’s chains as he rose from where he had fallen breaking the stillness. All eyes, even Kisada’s, were upon him. Paneki regarded him with something that might have been shock, and even Kaukatsu seemed surprised. “Surely you are not serious.”

“Enough,” the Emperor said curtly, clearly irritated at the constant disruption. “Why, Sekawa?”

The Jade Champion bowed before the Emperor. “I merely wish to understand, my lord.”

Toturi Naseru frowned and ran his hand through his beard absently. After several moments of consideration, he slowly nodded. “Speak, traitor,” he said to the prisoner. “What unique brand of insanity has brought you before my court?”

The prisoner dropped to his knees and touched his head to the floor, rising quickly to address the Emperor. “I am Daigotsu Soetsu. I bring a message for the Righteous Emperor, Toturi III, rightful ruler of Rokugan, from my master and lord of the Shadowlands, Daigotsu. My master sent a gift as well, but it was taken from me before we departed the Crab lands.”

The Emperor glanced at Kisada, who nodded. “The head of a demon, my lord. A very large one.”

“The demon was slain by my lord’s followers, who seek to purge the madness that has plagued the Shadowlands for over a thousand years,” Soetsu continued. “We follow the precepts of Fu Leng, our revered Kami, and seek to slay the beasts that spawn unfettered from the depths of Jigoku. We adhere to bushido as well, in our own fashion.”

“The Lost do not practice any form of bushido that the Empire recognizes,” the Emperor said sharply.

“You are of course correct, Emperor,” Soetsu said, “just as the Crane do not practice any form of bushido that the Lion recognize. Or the Scorpion that is recognized by the Crab.”

“Your dissembling grows tiresome,” the Emperor said. “I would hear your purpose, if there is one.”

“Simply this, Emperor,” Soetsu said. “My lord and master Daigotsu asks that you recognize his families and servants as following the path and teachings of a Kami. He asks that you recognize the duty we perform in destroying your enemies for you. He asks that you recognize that we serve a code of honor, such as it is, different as it is. And in recognition of these things, he petitions your most honorable dynasty for recognition of his forces as Great Clan in service to the Empire of Rokugan.”

This time there was no quieting the eruption of outrage from the court, and even Kaukatsu’s steely discipline could not mask his disgust and surprise. The nimbus of fire around Sekawa’s fists flickered and died. The Jade Champion rubbed his face, suddenly exhausted, and sick with the realization of what must happen now. He glanced to the Crane contingent on his left, his gaze seeking out that of a weathered old Crane with a masked face, his badge of office marking him as the proxy of Daidoji Kikaze. The old man nodded, slowly, confirming Sekawa’s worst fears.

He knew what he must do.

TO BE CONTINUED