The Guilty Blade

Joshua McNatt
Creative Writing Final

Chapter 1: Blood on the Cobblestones

Blood hit the cracked stones of the pit floor in a burst of small droplets, and with a sucking
sound the child pulled the broken splinter of wood free of his opponent's abdomen, pushing the nowlifeless body away from him and turning to face the other two still left standing in the small arena. A
half-dozen other fresh corpses, some of them children and a few ragged-looking adults, were scattered
about with similar wounds. One of the larger boys still standing yanked a broken-looking axe out of his
previous adversary and moved toward the smallest of the survivors, violent madness painted across his
face. Ducking under the first swing, the younger child headbutted him, the shard of wood in his hand
rising to the raised arm's pit and sinking until bone brought it to a halt. With a choked scream, the
attacker's axe fell from his hand and clattered to the floor, the sound of the weapon's impact unheard
over the roar of the crowd.
Potential, if somewhat lacking in direction. Two of those at the edge of the pit looked down
with a more detached interest than the cheering locals, easily told apart even without the wildly
different manner of dress. While the people gathered around the fight below wore the clothing of
laborers, loose shirts and pants befitting long hours at work, the two were draped in silken clothing of
ornate design. Blues and greys blended into each other to create the impression of crashing waves. Both
were armed, the younger of them bearing a pair of matched swords at his hip while the older had only
the shorter wakizashi at his side: the weapons of nobles.
What was that, my lord? The younger of the two turned his attention from the fight to his
master.
Look at him. The older man nodded his head to the boy stepping away from the falling body
of his latest kill. What's different about him?

I'm not sure, my lord. I... The samurai's eyes narrowed and he frowned. The others are
performing. Putting on a show. He's just killing. Trying to be the last one standing.
Mm. Perhaps, with some direction and discipline, he could make a valuable servant to our
house. What do you think?
The samurai frowned. I'm not sure if I could make him any more than a killer, but perhaps the
Sun Temple could. I believe the master there is accepting students again.
The noble lord nodded, thinking. Let's go find out who owns him.
Another pained cry was followed by the crowd cheering and the scream of a trumpet.
*****
He was escorted by two armed guards, shackles on his ankles and wrists. He'd been cleaned up
in the hour since the fight, made presentable. Walking down the corridor, the boy was silent, following
the guard in front of him until they arrived in the well-furnished room of the arena's owner.
Ah, yes, there he is. Come over here, boy. The fighter did as he was told, walking over to
where the large man spoke with his guests. This is Lord Jinin of House Varja. He saw your fight
today.
Looking at the two blue-robed men, then back at the arena's owner, the boy frowned.
So?
So they've decided to purchase you.
Oh.
What is your name? This time it was the older nobleman that spoke, giving a polite smile
toward the slave.
Shiryou, sir. He shifted nervously.
Well, Shiryou, I would like to give you an opportunity. As it stands, a recent disaster has left
my house's guard somewhat short-staffed. You were very efficient in the fight today...
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I'm efficient in every fight. That's how you live. The arena's owner tensed at the interruption.
People had been killed for less insult before.
...yes. With some education and direction, you could be a valuable member of House Varja.
Thank you, sir.
Soon the boy and the samurai waited outside as payment was arranged, then Lord Jinin joined
them. Are you ready to go? Do you have everything?
Shiryou looked a little confused at the notion he might have things to take with him, then he
smiled. One moment. Disappearing down the side of the fighting pit, he climbed back out after a few
minutes with a stained, crude knife carved from a large wooden splinter. Now I'm ready.
The two noblemen exchanged a glance, then headed with him back to the caravan.

Chapter 2: Temple of the Sun

Shiryou stood in his new master's office, completely still in the blue and grey uniform of House
Varja's warriors. The desk across from him was covered with scattered and disorganized paperwork.
Jinin sat on the other side of it, reading through some papers with a small grin.
Your handwriting is getting better, Shi. Your poetry is lacking in much artistic language, but I
suppose that isn't your strongest suit. Tsuneni tells me you've requested that he bring back any books he
can find on his next route.
Well, I've read all of the ones in the library, sir.
Jinin smiled and set the papers down. I'm glad to see that you've found a liking for something.
Suiton was concerned when we first brought you here that you were interested only in violence. You
were uncomfortably good at it, considering your age.
Shiryou stiffened. It was a means to an end.
Jinin nodded and moved to stand, walking around his desk to a map on the wall. You've
absorbed your lessons well in the last few years. Reading, writing, music. Histories and philosophies.
You pay your respects to the gods and humble yourself before your betters.
Thank you, sir.
Jinin thought for a moment. I think it's time you went to the Temple of the Sun.
*****
The sun was setting when they arrived at the small monastery at the top of a large hill. In the
courtyard that served as its entrance was a beautiful sun of inlaid topaz gems, the sunset reflecting to
bathe the place it colors. Shiryou paused to marvel at the display before adjusting the bag on his
shoulder and following Suiton.

The day we found you in that town I predicted you'd end up here. The samurai looked as
though he had aged a decade in the few years since they had met, the ravages of an affliction that had
never quite left him be. I'm interested in seeing what you pick up here. Ah! Master Tenken. Thank you
for accepting our request.
An older man was waiting for them at the other end of the courtyard. Dressed in a simple white
set of clothes, he and the samurai bowed to one another as they neared, and he looked to the young
man.
So, this is the student? What is your name?
Shiryou, master.
And do you know why you have been brought to me?
Shiryou looked around. To learn swordplay, master.
The monk grinned. Play is for children, young man. What I teach is art.
Suiton patted his companion's shoulder. I'll stop by in a few days to see how you're doing and
bring you any news. Try not to make a fool of yourself.
Master Tenken bowed again to the samurai before gesturing toward the inside of the temple.
Come now, let me show you to your room. As they walked together through the halls, Shiryou looked
around at the painted architecture, finally pausing before a golden sword enshrined in a side passage.
What's this?
Tenken turned to look at him, then followed his gaze to the sword. Ah. That is Hinoiri. It
belonged to the founder of this temple.
Why is it here?
Tenken, looked between the boy and the sword for a time, then took a deep breath. Hinoiri's
master was a samurai named Sangeki Motoi. He was a veteran of the wars fought to free this land from
the tyranny of the old Yama Kings, the demons that ruled over the world in the old days. He founded
6

the Temple of the Sun, as did many of those responsible for banishing the Yama Kings, in order to
ensure they never returned. It was Sangeki who defeated the last of them, destroying its earthly form.
But the victory was short-lived. The Yama King's spirit took refuge within Sangeki. It nestled
in his chest, and as the weeks passed it began to take over Sangeki's heart, turning the peaceful monk to
acts of violence and debauchery. When he realized what had happened, Sangeki took up Hinoiri one
last time, using the golden blade to cut out his own heart.
Shiryou frowned, eyes transfixed on the weapon. That was stupid of him. Who would cut out
their own heart?
Tenken sighed, tugging on the boy's shirt to get his attention. It's not for us to say if it was right
or wrong. Would you have the courage to carve evil from your breast?
The boy frowned, his gaze lingering on the enshrined blade one last time before he followed the
monk deeper into the temple.

Chapter 3: Catch the Sun

Metal clashed on metal, the air ringing for several seconds before the two combatants broke
apart. Breathing heavily, Shiryou raised the sword in his hands to a more defensive position, readying
to face a counter assault while he caught his breath. Across the sun's image in the courtyard, Suiton
shifted his footing before launching forward, blade horizontal to the ground in a swift thrust. There was
a sound of metal grinding against metal as it was barely deflected by the younger man's sword, sliding
along until he managed to stumble out of reach.
Stop. Tenken sat in the shade of a tree, three meals set out before him. Come. Sit.
Shiryou did as he was told, sitting at one and putting the weapon he'd been using aside. Suiton
leaned his against the tree before taking a seat and gratefully beginning to eat.
Tell me, child, what was your error?
Shiryou hesitated, then shrugged. I suppose I wasn't fast enough. The old man shook his head.
No, child. You are faster than most. Try again.
He thought again for a time, taking a few bites of food as he did. I needed to catch my breath.
The two older men exchanged a glance, and Shiryou continued to eat, watching them.
How would you describe your initial moments in the duel?
He stopped eating, knowing the answer. I attacked a lot and wore myself out.
Sloppy. You were sloppy in the beginning, and trying to make up for it the rest of the fight. All
he had to do was make small adjustments to avoid your frenzy of attacks while he waited for you to
exhaust yourself.
You were swinging too hard, too. You're not strong enough to let that be the defining feature
you bring into a fight. My hands are a little numb, but your hand will shatter before these weapons do.

Just focus on trying to land hits. You're not hewing logs.

Shiryou nodded, pausing in his eating as a small koi-like creature flitted through the branches
above them, trailing candlelight. Smiling, he reached up his arm with his hand in a circle for the little
fire-spirit to play around, passing through it like a trained animal jumping through hoops. His two
instructors watched silently until the little creature found something else to occupy it and drifted away.
Can I try again? The young man's attention turned to them, finishing the last few bites and
standing with the weapon. Suiton started to rise, stopping when the old monk waved him back down.
Walking into the temple, he returned with another sword, drawing it for a moment, then letting it fall
back into the scabbard most of the way before taking his position across from where his student already
waited with weapon drawn.
Silently, the old monk waited, watching Shiryou patiently. After a hesitation, the boy rushed
across the courtyard at him, weapon coming down toward the monk's shoulder. Suddenly, there was a
flash of light that blinded him, and he felt only a rush of wind, reflexively jumping back. Rubbing his
watering eyes, he looked at the monk, still standing where he was, sword still at his side. Then he saw
the pendant he'd been wearing, a small stone he had found while fishing one day and put on a necklace,
laying on the ground at the monk's feet. Reaching to his neck, he found the chord it had been hanging
from cut in two places, and looked at the string he pulled from the back of his neck in disbelief.
Wha...what the...? He looked back toward the monk, still waiting patiently as if for the fight
to begin. A quick look toward the samurai still eating under the tree confirmed he wasn't the only one
impressed, and as the shock was wearing off he raised the weapon again for another attack, retrieving a
rock from the ground and taking a stance.
After what seemed an eternity, he threw the rock, aiming for the infuriatingly calm old man's
face. This time from where he stood, he saw it: the blade catching the sunlight for an instant as it
struck, drawn and returned to its place in what seemed no time at all. Eyes widening, Shiryou retreated
9

even further from his teacher, trying to think of a way around such a defense. Finally, his shoulders
slumped and he lowered his weapon.
I don't...there's no... His expression changed to one of curiosity. How do you do that?
Tenken pushed the sword the last inch into the scabbard, locking it. Giving a dismissing nod to
the samurai, he started going back into the temple. With a quick bow and a wave to Suiton, the boy
followed.
*****
After his three years in the temple, the room they sat in was a familiar one. It was the place he
came to meditate every day. He'd learned old stories here, been taught languages by a Tengu, one of the
humanoid birds whose settlements dotted the forested regions between the temple and the mountain
range to the north. Now, he sat quietly as his teacher gathered his thoughts.
Do you know what the most important part of a duel is, Shiryou?
I don't think so.
The old monk began painting, the thin brush gliding over the large paper in front of him in
shapes Shiryou couldn't see from where he sat.
The most important part of a duel is the deciding blow. It may come at any time, and will
rarely be expected. At that point, the fight might continue, but this is wasted energy. The victor has
been decided, and everything following this is his to determine.
I...think I understand.
The monk continued his painting in silence for a time.
But what about larger battles? It can't be that simple in such a melee... The painting stopped,
and the monk blew on the ink for a moment before turning the work to show him. Several warriors
battled, a sea of weapons and bodies between two men on horseback.
Tell me what you see.
10

Shiryou studied the image for a long time before finally speaking up.
A fight? Two warlords and their armies?
That is correct, but not what I meant.
Shiryou frowned and studied the picture for a moment gain.
They're all having little battles. Each person is fighting his own little duel before moving on to
the next one.
Tenken nodded.
Even the two warlords are locked in a duel. Their armies are their weapons. Do you
understand?
The boy nodded. Yes, I think so. What does this have to do with that think you did in the
courtyard, though?
Which of these two warlords is going to be victorious?
Shiryou frowned when it seemed his question was ignored and turned his attention to the image.
The red one, I suppose.
Why?
I don't understand what this has to do with anything...
Humor me.
Shiryou sighed and studied the image for a while.
His forces have more direction. The warlord painted in green is throwing his army at the his
enemy to overwhelm him, and the people in red seem to have a plan.
Explain.
Well... He was hesitant. The green warlord has his warriors scattered everywhere, with no
direction but their own. The red's conscripted soldiers...at least I think that's what the ones with farming
attire and spears are...are being used as buffers while the samurai move toward the enemy commander.
11

He looked up at the old monk, who was nodding.

They prepare for the decisive blow.
So what is it that you did before with the sunlight and the moving really fast?
Tenken frowned slightly.
Impatient, aren't you? Tell me again, why did you lose?
I was trying too hard to overwhelm Suiton with brute force, and thought that I could use my
speed to put you on the defensive and lost balance.
You lost because you lacked focus.
...Okay...?
A man with a hammer can strike at a block of stone all day and only serve to wear out himself
and his instrument. It is the vision and the chisel that allows him to sculpt an image.
Shiryou blinked, looking at the painting and the granite block before turning his attention back
to his teacher.
Is this how you're trying to tell me you've always dreamed of being an artist, master?
The old monk sighed in frustration.
I'm trying to lead you to understanding with metaphor. It helps you remember it when it was
almost your idea. Very well, I have a language I think you'll understand. Pass me that practice sword.
Shiryou did as he was asked, handing the monk the edgeless metal weapon. Standing, Tenken
went to the granite block and took the same stance he'd had before in the courtyard. Taking a deep
breath in his nose and exhaling slowly through his mouth, the monk drew the blade, moving it through
the object as though cutting water and returning the weapon to its place in the same motion.
Shiryou sat, wide-eyed, his brain still trying to register the motion. How did you...I mean, that
wasn't even sharp!
The focused mind can pierce through stone. The monk turned to look at him, then the dust
12

and pieces of broken rock scattered around where he was. Clean up in here, then take the night to
reflect on today. Tomorrow we'll start working on teaching you to use your sword in this manner and
catch the sun with your blade.

13

Chapter 4: Homecoming
Shiryou looked about him as they made their way through the village, taking in the sights and
trying to quell his nervousness. It had been almost eight years since he was home, and so much had
changed. Old shops he thought he could recall were gone, replaced by alien sights and smells. The
horse beneath him knew the way, following Tenken's mount ahead of it and picking its way up the
cobblestone streets toward the manor. Even the estate itself had changed, with new banners and
trophies lining the entryway.
The people waiting at the grand hall's entrance had changed most of all. Lord Jinin was now
grey-haired, with the stature of a man who spent more time in a chair than the proud warrior that he had
met when he was just a child fighting desperately to survive. Suiton was older, too, but it seemed less
noticeable. Shiryou decided it must have been due to his frequent visits to the temple.
He rode in silence, finally dismounting the animal and approaching at the left of his teacher, a
few steps behind him. Moving to stand before his lord, he lowered himself to his knees and bowed his
head, eyes closed and sword across his legs, parallel to the stone beneath him.
You have a stubborn young warrior here, Lord Jinin. I think I got through to him, though. The
monk grinned, bowing to the nobleman.
Thank you, old friend. I am eager to see what you have molded him into. Looking toward his
right-hand man, Jinin smiled. What do you think, Suiton? Would you like to see what our investment
has grown to become? The samurai nodded.
Looking back to the young warrior, Jinin stepped forward and offered a hand. Come, now. This
is your day, it should not be spent on your knees. Shiryou took the hand and rose, bowing to his
master.

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Thank you, my lord.

The two elders looked between Suiton and Shiryou, then started to make their way toward the
open fields.
Well, come on then. Let's go see what the old man has taught you. Suiton followed after them,
Shiryou only a few steps behind.
*****
Many of the house's servants had come to watch, gathered in a thin crowd around where the two
warriors faced each other. Suiton drew his weapon, beginning to pace in a small arc, watching for
movement from the still younger warrior. Shiryou left his weapon mostly undrawn, observing the
samurai and waiting for the first move. After what seemed an eternity of silence, the samurai rushed
forward and struck from the left, prompting the weapon to leave the sheathe. Only the flash of sunlight
and the clamoring of metal gave the audience an indicator of what had deflected the first strike, but as
the second started to move in from above the kensai stepped forward, drawing the weapon forward to
drive the butt of the handle into his opponent's abdomen before sliding the weapon back into its sheathe
and sidestepping the downward strike. As Suiton turned to strike again, the Shiryou danced around his
back, foot coming out to hook the samurai's leg and pull him off balance. Thrown off balance, the
samurai ducked into the fall to roll, coming up to parry a strike at him with his weapon. A moment later
he was standing again, a flurry of attacks driving Shiryou backwards, weapon fully out of its place at
his side and moving to knock aside the attacks. Minutes passed, an erratic metronome of ringing and
crashing metal as the two danced back and forth through the circle of onlookers, until eventually both
stopped, breaking apart and looking at each other across a space of a few yards, breathing heavily from
the exertion. Then, with a bow, Suiton put away his weapon.
You have improved greatly. I am proud to welcome you back into our house.
The onlookers scattered, talking amongst themselves excitedly as the returned to their duties.
15

Jinin and Tenken spoke briefly for a time, then the two nobleman returned to the manor.
You have come a long way since you were first brought to the temple, child. Tenken patted
him on the shoulder. But don't take that to mean you have nothing left to learn. As Shiryou put away
his weapon, the old monk moved to sit on the exposed root of a large tree at the edge of the field.
Even this ancient warden has room left to grow.
I understand, master. The younger man sat on another root, looking out over the village below
them.
I have spoken to Lord Jinin. One day, you may be called upon to take my place at the temple.
He has accepted such an event. Be that as it is, I would like it if you resumed your duties there from
time to time, so that the transition will be easier. Shiryou looked startled, but nodded.
Of course, master. It would be an honor.
You are welcomed to return at any time your duties allow. Until then, child. Rising, the old
monk made his way across the field back toward the house to retrieve the horses.
Shiryou remained where he sat for a few moments, watching the sun set before finally returning
home.

16

Chapter 5: Among Whispering Trees

The wooden wheels rattled along the hard-packed dirt of the road, two horses ahead making
their way with practiced strides as the pulled the trade cart along. Four people sat atop the cart, amid
boxes and canvas sacks. At the head, a merchant in the employ of house Varja, steering the horses in
silence, taking his attention from the horses only to voice a reprimand when his young son started
playing with the goods they were transporting.
Iuchi, stop that. Those aren't toys. The boy looked guilty again, returning the jade statuettes to
their crate and sitting back with his hands in his lap. It wasn't long until his eyes were roaming the
stacks of crates and bags for something he hadn't been told not to touch yet. The two sitting with their
legs hanging off the back of the cart smiled, watching the child with amusement.
Shiryou sat in the signature blue and grey robes of the house's warriors, his sword resting across
his lap and a chord around his neck, the top of his uniform concealing whatever hung on the end of it. It
had been a few years since his return to the estate, and this wasn't the first time he had made such a trip.
While the caravans were rarely attacked along this route, Lord Jinin was always more careful with the
safety of his people than was usually necessary. Regardless of the reasoning, Shiryou enjoyed the
chances to visit other places.
Beside him sat a man a few years older, dressed in the red and green robes of clan Akodo, a
family that had just over a year ago been brought under the protection of house Varja following their
home being submerged in a rash of vicious storms. A handful of them were warriors, and gladly
worked in service of the house in return for the aid and hospitality. The man's naginata was hanging
from a pair of loops along the side of the cart, easy to retrieve if needed but out of reach of the curious
boy now digging into a bag of colored glass marbles.

17

Oh, come now, Tousen, he's just having a look. We won't let him break anything. Higeki
Akodo grinned, looking toward Shiryou and retrieving a flute from his bag.
Another grand ballad to your legend, Higeki?
Of course! This one will tell the story of the battle against the wild beast the gods unleashed
upon the poor village of Tomaru last spring, and how I struck the beast down while bereft of my
weapon.
You mean that time a wild boar got loose in the market square and broke a fruit stand? The one
you killed with a farmer's shovel?
Bah, you're a terrible storyteller. All legends have a little embellishment. It's what makes them,
you know, entertaining.
Shiryou rolled his eyes, then adjusted some of the silks to make a cushion and laid back.
Moving his sun hat to cover his face, he closed his eyes, mumbling barely audibly through the straw.
I'm gonna take a nap, then. Wake me up if you need someone to explain away the screams of
the damned soon to follow us down the road.
Ha ha, your wit is as sharp as your weapon. Higeki raised the flute to his lips and started
playing, the melody echoing out through the forest, as if inviting the birds to join in.
Then, the cart stopped.
Shiryou frowned, setting aside his hat and turning to look at the source of their delay. A log had
been placed across the road, stripped of its branches and leaves.
Bandits. The two men grabbed their weapons, turning to look about. It wasn't long before the
culprits appeared.
Hello, gentlemen. It's a good thing we caught up to you in time. Would be a shame if you had
made it any further without paying the tax. Four men in light to heavy armor made to surround the
cart, armed with swords and one carrying a large studded club.
18

What tax? There's no tax for these roads.

Oh, but there is. You see, it's a life insurance tax. You pay it to ensure you make it the rest of
the way down the road with your life. Dangerous folk about this part of the wood, you know. Accidents
happen.
Yeah, accidents. How much is the tax?
A very fair price, I think. Only everything in the cart, save for some food. We are reasonable
men, after all, and wouldn't deprive you of transportation and meals so deep into the woods.
Yes, that's very reasonable. How about a counter-offer, then? You go ahead and clear the path,
and we pay you for the labor?
The leader made a show of thinking about it for a few seconds, then shook his head. A kind
offer, but I feel I must insist you accept the initial bargain. After all, we could just take everything,
including your lives.
Shiryou shrugged, hopping off the cart and moving toward the spokesperson, weapon still at his
side and his hands empty.
True, but we are traveling for house Varja. You could kill us, but it might invoke the Steel
Tempest's wrath. One of the bandits faltered a little, his weapon lowering just enough to be noticeable.
The Tempest? Maybe this isn't such a good idea. I've heard it can call winds strong enough to
carry away a village.
What are you talking about? The spokesperson looked toward the speaker, irritated.
Haven't you heard? Lord Varja made a pact with an air spirit. The Steel Tempest killed an
entire invading force without even being seen. I know a guy who was there.
The leader seemed to consider this, then frowned and looked at the cart. Alright, we'll move
the tree for some food and a few gold coins.
Shiryou bowed. A wise choice.
19

The transaction finished and the log moved to the side of the road, the two warriors settled back
into their place in the back of the cart. Higeki stared at Shiryou as the younger man waved farewell to
the bandits.
We don't have any kind of air spirit like that. What kind of rumors have you been spreading?
Shiryou grinned and shrugged.
Maybe I'm not such a bad storyteller after all.

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Chapter 6: Tragedy
It was late in the night when Shiryou returned to the estate from his latest visit to the Sun
Temple. He found the place full of activity, people rushing about frantically. Making his way through
the chaos, he found Suiton making his way toward the courtyard.
What's going on?
Suiton jumped, turning to look at him. Distress was painted across his face and his entire body
was tense. Voice choked a little, he tried to speak.
It's Lord Jinin. He's dead. He was struck suddenly ill in the night. Higeki found him while on
guard.
Shiryou's blood ran cold, and he put a hand on the wall to steady himself. Staring at the floor, he
sighed.
How can he be dead? He...I mean, he was fine this afternoon. Was he poisoned?
I can't imagine anyone got past Higeki.
I...yeah, that's true... Shiryou sighed and closed his eyes, still reeling from this turn of events.
What can I do?
Get some rest. We've got it covered. News will have to go out. There's going to be a power
vacuum, so for the next few weeks we need to keep everything from getting out of hand. Go get some
rest, we've got a lot of work ahead of us.
Shiryou nodded, then walked to his quarters in a daze.
*****
The next few weeks passed in a haze. Everyone that was available was called back to the estate,
and within a week the service had been performed. There was some debate among the house about who

21

would succeed Jinin as head, and within a few days it had been decided: Jinin's daughter was to marry
the head of the Akodo family, who would then take over as the new head of house Varja. The ceremony
was short, the entire affair merely put on for show. Shiryou spent more and more time at the Sun
Temple as the arrangements were made, and once the new lord was settled in the Shiryou's assignments
began taking him away from the estate for long periods of time.
It wasn't until a year later that he started to notice something was off.
At first he thought that it was his grief and the shock that made him mistrustful of the new lord
and the guests he frequently entertained at the manor. Most of them seemed to come and go at odd
hours, as though trying to escape notice. Still, he let it go. Then rumors began persisting that some of
the warriors were being sent to waylay travelers and perform assassinations. The last straw was the
overseas assignment he received.

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Chapter 7: Revelation
Shiryou was out on the weather deck, leaning against the railing and watching the sunrise over
the ocean. They'd left port a few days before, and he was eager to return home to the temple. There was
something about transporting live cargo that bothered him, and the captain's insistence that he go into
town while the animals were loaded on board bothered him even more.
Pretty, ain't it? He turned his head to see one of the deckhands standing nearby, taking a break
from his mopping.
Yes. There's not so many colors here, though. Back home it shines in an array of shades.
The sailor shrugged. Yeah, well, once we get our ship tied up in port you can be on your way.
Cap'n'll send your boss our praise. I mean, I never seen one 'a them water things before leave a ship
alone. Then again, ne'er thought to try talk'n to it, neither.
It just wanted us to acknowledge that we were passing through its domain. Looking toward
the trap door, he shifted his weight. No one's fed them this morning. Any reason you're not?
The deck hand shook his head.
Naw, gonna wait 'til someone else takes care of it. I hate lissenin' to 'em. Dunno why they
askin' me to let 'em go, s'not my place.
The warrior's stance shifted.
Excuse me? The sheep talk to you? He'd heard of shamans that could speak to animals, but
somehow he doubted this deckhand had the capacity for it.
Sheep? Ah, naw I'm not one a them crazies what thinks they hear animals. But I mean,
people're always sore about being chained up in a ship, 'specially if they're goin' to work in a mine.
Now Shiryou was on his feet, a hand around the surprised deckhand's throat.

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Explain yourself. Now.

W-well I m-mean we's shippin' slaves. Ain't no animals down there but them standin' on two
fe- He was cut off by the grip tightening on his throat, and then released.
You should have been more honest with me. Now was not the time to let anger get the better
of him, and he turned and went back to his quarters in silence. When they reached port, he slipped off
the ship and went to the temple.

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Chapter 8: The Golden Blade

His mind raced as he ascended the steps of the temple, moving through its passages in search of
its keeper. He found him in the classroom, working on a painting, a mural of Sangeki's
accomplishments before founding the temple.
Master Tenken, do you have a moment? Shiryou moved to sit in the place he had as a child,
when things had been simpler. I'm in need of...something has happened.
The old monk turned to regard his old student, seeing the look on his face and setting the brush
aside.
What is wrong, child? Tenken moved to sit across the table from him, concerned.
Lord Yotsu. The new head of the house, he's...strangers come to the manor at odd hours, with
the look of criminals about them. He makes odd payments, there are new businesses in the village.
There have been rumors. Some of our soldiers are now highwaymen. Assassins. Enforcers. He shook
his head, staring at the tabletop. I ignored them, told myself that it was talk. That my suspicions were
unfounded. His eyes turned up to look his old master in the face, conflict visible behind them.
Master, I've been away on a guard assignment for a few weeks. We were transporting
livestock, I was told. Sheep. I was deceived, and was responsible for protecting slavers.
Tenken's frown deepened and he put a hand on the younger man's shoulder.
I have no...there is nothing I have that can guide you here. No past experiences I can draw
upon. This hurts me, to have my oldest friend's legacy stained in such a way. What will you do? Surely
there must be something, someone you can alert. Suiton, perhaps?
Suiton is gone. He's been across the sea for over a month now on orders. I think maybe he saw
what I now see and was sent away, or worse.

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Tenken nodded slowly, helping Shiryou to his feet. I have duties I must attend, it's almost
sunset. Go to the shrine, ask Sangeki for guidance. Reflect. Meditate. Pray. Do whatever you must. I'll
join you shortly.
Shiryou nodded, sighing and going to the shrine. Kneeling before the sword and armor there.
Eyes closed, head bowed, he cleared his mind, reflecting on everything he had learned, the last decade
and a half of teachings. Looking toward the armor, he sighed.
What would you do? Were you in my place, what answers would you see that are hidden from
me...? A thought occurred to him, half-forgotten and buried in over ten years of memories. Would you
have the courage to carve out your own heart? His attention shifted from the armor, and he saw his
answer.
It was over an hour later that Tenken finished his duties, walking into the shrine room and
stopping in his tracks, finding it empty of more than just his student.
No, child, what have you done...?
Shiryou spurred his horse faster, making for the estate overlooking the village that was now as
alien to him as it had been the first day of his new life. The young monk would do anything to protect
the legacy of the man and family that had given him that life. He steeled himself for what he needed to
do, the act that would make him a traitor. An exile, never to return home. He thought about the future
he was about to abandon, the life he was about to take, and turned his head to look at the weapon at his
side.
The fires of the setting sun shone off the golden blade.

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