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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/CommercialBee6585 on 2024-09-15 14:25:26+00:00.
-Hokiyama, City of Scarlet Knives-
Patriarch Kanade Jung stepped into the comely interior of his pagoda’s top floor, dubbed the ‘Red Room’ for reasons that were immediately obvious to its inhabitants. More than its striking crimson décor, replete with the Blacksun sigil of the House of Blades, gave the room its name. The chamber was a den of war – a place of dim lights and dark thoughts, where the greatest strategic achievements of the Yokun Empire had been masterminded since before humans ever crawled out of the proverbial dirt of the Thean oceans.
The Patriarch first acknowledged his brethren, bidding his son to do the same. They bowed to those who were already seated and received far lower bows in return.
“It is an honor to be here again, Brother,” Patriarch Yomra of the House of Souls stated. “Though I wish it were under more pleasant circumstances.”
Jung saluted the old snake with rigor. Patriarch Hachijo Yomra was always known to be a patron of the Blades – their Houses, it was said, were intertwined in purpose. The Blades sent the spirits of the worthy to the House of Souls, and in turn, those of the latter House administered to the spirits of the Yokun’s finest warriors, distilling in them the sacred tenets of Lord Akira and offering the merciful embrace of Lady Ming’ra in equal measure.
The Patriarch wore his long, flowing ceremonial robes today – emblazoned with the snake-coiled heart sigil of his House and Clan. His eyes, like Jung’s, were narrowed to slits, his withered scales just beginning to cover his lids and summon the blindness that was common to Yokun of advanced age. Still, the harsh, brilliant red scales of the Patriarch and his wife still shone in the room, showing everyone that beauty had not yet vacated them.
“Three blessings for your hospitality, Patriarch Jung,” Matriarch Emi Song said. “And you, Lady Hakumi. My blood is made warmer by your presence.”
Jung’s Matriarch nodded gracefully at the compliment, then proceeded to take her seat before her husband did.
“Would that we could warm the blood of our lost Brother,” she said with a grim look at the third visitor. “This war has not been kind to the House of Whispers.”
The silent girl she was addressing was covered head to toe in an ashen veil, her head bowed as though in a grim prayer: Princess Ami. The new Matriarch-in-training.
“We mourn the loss of Patriarch Hiro,” she said slowly, in a voice that was barely more than the echo of a dying spirit. “But we are rebuilding day by day. And the Sisters of the House of Whispers still await your command. Vengeance fuels their knives. Righteous fury burns in their breasts.”
Jung nodded at this, while Hakumi merely gave a grunt of indignation. He was well aware of her particular disdain for her old Sister – the traitorous Jin’an. And the Pale Lady whom she had taken under her wing. Her bias clearly extended to this new Princess.
“We are forever grateful to your House for its continued efforts,” Jung said. “And we can be counted on to do our part. Let the hearts and spirits of your warriors be administered to by our priests. You will always be welcome within our walls.”
As the Princess bowed, all remaining members were seated. Prince Yamrah sat beside his father, a little sweaty and a little nervous, but still with the proud, straight-backed candor that characterized his father. Out of the corner of his mouth, Jung couldn’t help but smile. He’d need the strength of his son today.
“We are at a crossroads, it seems,” he said after a pause, looking at the map of Southern Thea spread out on the table before them.
“Indeed,” Yomra nodded. “Prince Yaresh must be congratulated for his exemplary victory against Marxon’s navy in the straits of Magridesh. The port is tactically crucial for our northern trade routes, and this success means we have firmly solidified our hold over the northern Arasaka.”
Jung nodded in satisfaction and breathed a small sigh of relief. Beside him, Yamrah’s chest puffed with pride. His oldest brother was his idol.
“My son has once again performed admirably,” Jung said. “Let a day of celebration be held in his name upon his return to the capital.”
“It is said that ten thousand human sailors now lie at the bottom of our ocean,” Emi added with pride. “At least two thousand have been taken in binds and will be used to rebuild our bases on Sathu and Jongbao. The islands will provide good staging grounds for our continued advance onto the mainland.”
“What of the Keth-Tari squadrons stationed there?” Hakumi asked.
Patriarch Yomra looked to Jung with surprise, unused to a female speaking before the Patriarch of a House. Jung, however, simply shrugged his shoulders. His Matriarch was very fond of those little beasts. Her enthusiasm was nothing to be concerned about.
“They already hunger for more Keji-Sai flesh, Sister,” Matriarch Emi replied. “Five thousand strong, and counting.”
“The beasts do so love to copulate in the aftermath of a massacre,” Hakumi grinned. “And we may just have a new target for them.”
The assembly suddenly turned morose, all of them avoiding Jung’s eyes as he glanced from one to the other.
“Yomra,” the Patriarch said, immediately bringing the gaze of his still-living Brother to his. “What news do you bring of my other son?”
Yomra looked at each assembled guest before continuing, making sure he held their strictest confidence.
“It is said that Prince Nagoya has fallen into enemy hands.”
Silence followed this report. It was only broken by the battering of Prince Yamrah’s fists against the round map table.
“Said by whom!?” the boy demanded.
“Peace, Prince Yamrah,” his father broke in. “You speak to the Patriarch and Matriarch of the Triumvirate.”
“Father, I – I won’t believe it! Yaresh’s skills in warfare are matched only by Nagoya’s ability to bring those filthy slaves in line! There is simply no possibility that he could be captured, no matter who tells me thi–”
“YAMRAH!”
The boy had risen from his chair in anger and only now seemed to realize the folly of his complaints. His father’s voice, it seemed, had brought him from the haze of his sudden rage back into the room proper. The assembly looked at the blustering boy with stern eyes. Slowly, he dropped back down to his seat.
“I… apologize, my Lords and Ladies.”
“No offense is taken, youngling,” Yomra said. “Your fury is shared by us all. We would not have believed such reports if we had not seen them with our own eyes.”
Yomra turned his attention back to Jung, whose eyes were fixed with pinpoint precision on his Brother’s every word.
“A…vision,” he said, “has passed into the mind of Yokra from the southern reaches of the jungle. A vision that shows your son at the mercy of the very Keji-Sai he hunted to the ends of the earth.”
“A vision?” Matriarch Hakumi chortled, leaning back as though this news was nothing but a triviality. “Forgive me, my Patriarch, but this little trick is known to us. The traitress of Whispers often employed her powers of telepathy against us in the first days of her little uprising – something her Keji-Sai confidant no doubt was given the power to exploit in the wake of her death.”
Both Matriarchs nodded and sat back with no small satisfaction. It was known to all that the Matriarchs of a Triumvirate held a special bond forged in the Waters of Mingra. Their souls were inexorably bound when they were sworn into their offices by the Water Trial, and thus, when Jin’an had finally passed on, they felt the death of their sister as a keen, psychic surge through their systems. Both women had woken in a state of ecstasy the morning after.
“That is what we believed to be the case,” Princess Ami answered, her dark tongue poking at the holes in her veil. “But factors outside our control have now emerged. Pawns that were once moved by others have now crept out from the corners of our realm to make war against us.”
The eyes of the two most powerful Yokun in the entire Empire fixed themselves on the inert form of the Princess.
“What factors?” Hakumi growled.
“A man,” the Princess of Whispers answered. “A man we know all too well: The Shai-Alud, Marcus Graham.”
***
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