“What of his wife?” Ishida asked quietly. “His children?”
“Prisoners, when last I was there, at least,” the messenger said. “They were taken as hostages—the Lady and her three daughters.”
Something cold settled in my stomach.
This was not just a military defeat. This was an attack on the fundamental order of the Empire—on the bonds between lord and emperor, on the honor that held our society together.
“Where is Eiko-samanow?” I heard myself ask, my voice cutting through the chaos. Using an honorific for such a terrible creature tasted like vinegar on my tongue, but the propriety ofthe throne demanded no less. I remembered that lesson, at least. “Where are her forces?”
The messenger looked up at me, careful to avoid meeting my gaze. “Still in Yubi,Heika, though our scouts reported part of her forces moving south almost as soon as the walls fell. The roads heading west through the pass were choked with refugees when I left. Panic is spreading,Heika.”
Refugees were flooding into other cities—or worse, dying as winter seized the passes—all while spreading panic and tales of Eiko’s brutality.
“Get this man water,” I said. “Food and rest. He has done his duty.”
The guards bowed and helped the messenger from the chamber, the doors closing behind them with a sound like the sealing of a tomb.
No one spoke for a long moment.
The generals stood frozen, the reality of what had just happened settling over them. Yubi was the first major city to fall, Daiki the firstDaimyoexecuted, his wife and daughters the first noble family taken hostage.
My hands gripped the armrests of the throne, my knuckles white. Daiki’s face swam in my memory.
Think.
I needed to think.
Father would know what to do.
“This changes everything—and nothing,” Rei said finally. His voice was tight with barely controlled fury. “If the Asami have that many troops and are willing to murder surrendering lords—andhave thewakofleet at their command . . .” He practically spat the words. “This is not a rebellion. It is an attempt to destroy the Empire itself.”
“Ishidou Shrine,” Ishida said, his face grim. “If Eiko’s forces are moving south, Ishidou and the surrounding villages will be their next target.”
“And if they move west?” Yamada said.
“The mountains are high and the Emperor is far away,” Rei intoned the ancient idiom that usually referred to avoiding Imperial justice but now carried a far different meaning.
The mountain range that ran nearly the whole length of the mainland would be soon impossible to cross. Asami forces would be forced to retreat north, back into Asami lands, if they hoped to cross the narrow continent and head south toward the capital. That would take weeks or months, perhaps many months with an army and all its supplies. That was small comfort, but in the throes of war and defeat, any comfort was welcome.
“She will continue south,” Ryuji said after a moment. “Her forces will bolster their grip on Yubi while the bulk march toward Ishidou and beyond. It is what I would do in her place.”
“And if the Kohana enter the war? If they declare for Eiko rather than the Emperor?” Rei countered.
Ryuji glared. “Then we face a southern invasion while our eastern shores burn.”
The debate raged for hours, some arguing for a defensive posture, while others shouted that we should burn supply lines and crops to rob the Asami of prizes as they would surely take one village after another. There was no consensus, no agreement on a course forward, only endless debate, unbearable consequences, and one terrible option followed by even worse ones.
Father, what do I do?
I had to say something.Dosomething.
Every moment I sat there silent was another moment they questioned whether I was capable of leading them through this. Whether I was strong enough to face an enemy like Eiko.
But what if I chose wrong?
What if my first major decision as Emperor led to more cities falling?
“Enough.” My voice cut through the argument, sharp and commanding in a way I did not quite feel. Every eye turned toward me.
