[Siptan]
by ukefied
"Memento Mori"
On the fortieth day, Touya XIV of Heian can finally admit that he is tired. Everything weighs him down: purple-and-gold regalia, ceremonial blade, war....
"My Lord?" Akari asks, catching his expression in the mirror. He doesn't miss the concern in her eyes.
Akira lifts a finger, touches the welts beneath his eyes. "Do something about these," he tells her. A king must have infinite stamina -- or so it must appear.
His most trusted attendant understands, of course, and begins fiddling with powders. It's a little ironic that the day Akira can admit to exhaustion is the day Akari has not spoken a word of proper rest. She has come to realize what is at stake, what stands to be lost.
Forty days of bitter warfare.
Akari finishes and steps away with a bow. Akira rises, looking almost as if he has slept an entire night, and becomes King Touya of Heian. When he opens the doors to his chambers, the sentries stand up straighter and salute him.
"At ease," he replies as they fall in step behind him. "To the drawing room."
The halls of Castle Heian are quiet and largely empty. Akira listens to their footfalls echo and yearns for happier times. Barely a month ago, the castle was alive with activity: servants and soldiers, children and dogs... now, everyone has a task, be it fighting or harvesting supplies. Akira used to spend his mornings with -- with Hikaru. Now he spends them trying not to send his men to their deaths.
"Your Majesty," Commander Kaga greets him, signalling for the sentries to take up new posts outside the drawing room. "I think you need to see this." His tone is noncommittal, but Akira reads veiled anger on his face and that makes him uneasy. There may be no love between Akira and Kaga, but Kaga is a brilliant strategist and largely the reason for the Heian Army's continued resistance. If Kaga is out of sorts, Akira is worried.
Akira follows Kaga inside, and shuts the door behind him. "What is it?"
The drawing room is low-lit and the mood within sombre. Akira notices one of the Chroniclers sitting at the table -- of their own, given his colors. A thick, leather-bound volume rests before him, carefully placed as to not to touch any of the maps. The Chronicler is lost in thought, contemplating a quill as he rolls it between two fingers.
Kaga says, "This is Tsutsui, a Chronicler," and this shocks him out of his reverie.
"Your Majesty!" he pipes up, hurriedly standing, removing his feathered cap, and bowing almost clumsily.
Akira waves the formality aside. "Please. What news?"
Chroniclers rarely get straight to the point, but Tsutsui exchanges looks with Kaga and sniffs nervously. "My Lord, I hear the people calling this affair the War for the Hand of God."
His breath catches. "Why is that?"
"Hikaru. Promise me you'll be careful."
"I'll promise because you asked, but it's not necessary. I walk hand-in-hand with the gods."
"They're convinced it will be a total loss for one side. Heian and Fuseki are each fighting for the favor of the gods, and those gods will only answer one country." Tsutsui is wringing his hat.
Kaga says, "This could say much for the troops' morale."
Akira's reply is cut short by a frantic pounding on the drawing room's door; a rudeness acceptable only in dire straights. "Come!"
He knows the soldier who stumbles into the room. He recognizes the armor, bloodied and filthy; the hair, a matted reddish-brown mess; the face, bruised and swollen; the eyes, defeated. He knows Lieutenant Waya, Hikaru's most trusted subordinate.
He feels cold.
"Waya," he whispers, too stunned to even....
"Lord Touya," Waya rasps, falling to his knees. He sounds as though he hasn't stopped running since leaving the front lines. He probably hasn't. "The front--" he coughs, has to clear this throat, "Ochi -- Ochi has some kind of w-wizard."
Waya, Hikaru's most trusted subordinate, who never would have left him unless--
"Magician?" Kaga demands.
"No!" Waya shakes his head so violently he nearly knocks himself over. The sentries rush forward to help steady him. Akira barely notices they've come inside. "No, not a magician. A sorcerer. His are not parlour tricks or illusions; he--" another cough, "he brought mountains down upon us. He brought fire, lightning--!"
As Waya collapses into a coughing fit, Kaga asks the question Akira cannot bring himself to voice. "The front line? What of the front line?"
"Gone. What Ochi's sorcerer didn't finish, the Fuseki Army did." Waya gets through the news without breaking down solely because of rigorous training. Akira can tell; he had similar training. "General Shindou ordered me to flee and warn the Castle."
Of course he did, Akira thinks. Hikaru would only trust Waya for such a task. Hikaru...
He stares at Waya's broken, bloody face, imagining Hikaru on the front line amidst battle and blood and fear. He can feel Kaga looking at him, can hear Tsutsui's frantic writing. He is grateful for Akari's face powder; it helps him keep his face impassive when the news finally strikes his heart.
No. No -- no, he--
Hikaru.
He is dead. I--
I am dying.
end
"Memento Mori"
On the fortieth day, Touya XIV of Heian can finally admit that he is tired. Everything weighs him down: purple-and-gold regalia, ceremonial blade, war....
"My Lord?" Akari asks, catching his expression in the mirror. He doesn't miss the concern in her eyes.
Akira lifts a finger, touches the welts beneath his eyes. "Do something about these," he tells her. A king must have infinite stamina -- or so it must appear.
His most trusted attendant understands, of course, and begins fiddling with powders. It's a little ironic that the day Akira can admit to exhaustion is the day Akari has not spoken a word of proper rest. She has come to realize what is at stake, what stands to be lost.
Forty days of bitter warfare.
Akari finishes and steps away with a bow. Akira rises, looking almost as if he has slept an entire night, and becomes King Touya of Heian. When he opens the doors to his chambers, the sentries stand up straighter and salute him.
"At ease," he replies as they fall in step behind him. "To the drawing room."
The halls of Castle Heian are quiet and largely empty. Akira listens to their footfalls echo and yearns for happier times. Barely a month ago, the castle was alive with activity: servants and soldiers, children and dogs... now, everyone has a task, be it fighting or harvesting supplies. Akira used to spend his mornings with -- with Hikaru. Now he spends them trying not to send his men to their deaths.
"Your Majesty," Commander Kaga greets him, signalling for the sentries to take up new posts outside the drawing room. "I think you need to see this." His tone is noncommittal, but Akira reads veiled anger on his face and that makes him uneasy. There may be no love between Akira and Kaga, but Kaga is a brilliant strategist and largely the reason for the Heian Army's continued resistance. If Kaga is out of sorts, Akira is worried.
Akira follows Kaga inside, and shuts the door behind him. "What is it?"
The drawing room is low-lit and the mood within sombre. Akira notices one of the Chroniclers sitting at the table -- of their own, given his colors. A thick, leather-bound volume rests before him, carefully placed as to not to touch any of the maps. The Chronicler is lost in thought, contemplating a quill as he rolls it between two fingers.
Kaga says, "This is Tsutsui, a Chronicler," and this shocks him out of his reverie.
"Your Majesty!" he pipes up, hurriedly standing, removing his feathered cap, and bowing almost clumsily.
Akira waves the formality aside. "Please. What news?"
Chroniclers rarely get straight to the point, but Tsutsui exchanges looks with Kaga and sniffs nervously. "My Lord, I hear the people calling this affair the War for the Hand of God."
His breath catches. "Why is that?"
"Hikaru. Promise me you'll be careful."
"I'll promise because you asked, but it's not necessary. I walk hand-in-hand with the gods."
"They're convinced it will be a total loss for one side. Heian and Fuseki are each fighting for the favor of the gods, and those gods will only answer one country." Tsutsui is wringing his hat.
Kaga says, "This could say much for the troops' morale."
Akira's reply is cut short by a frantic pounding on the drawing room's door; a rudeness acceptable only in dire straights. "Come!"
He knows the soldier who stumbles into the room. He recognizes the armor, bloodied and filthy; the hair, a matted reddish-brown mess; the face, bruised and swollen; the eyes, defeated. He knows Lieutenant Waya, Hikaru's most trusted subordinate.
He feels cold.
"Waya," he whispers, too stunned to even....
"Lord Touya," Waya rasps, falling to his knees. He sounds as though he hasn't stopped running since leaving the front lines. He probably hasn't. "The front--" he coughs, has to clear this throat, "Ochi -- Ochi has some kind of w-wizard."
Waya, Hikaru's most trusted subordinate, who never would have left him unless--
"Magician?" Kaga demands.
"No!" Waya shakes his head so violently he nearly knocks himself over. The sentries rush forward to help steady him. Akira barely notices they've come inside. "No, not a magician. A sorcerer. His are not parlour tricks or illusions; he--" another cough, "he brought mountains down upon us. He brought fire, lightning--!"
As Waya collapses into a coughing fit, Kaga asks the question Akira cannot bring himself to voice. "The front line? What of the front line?"
"Gone. What Ochi's sorcerer didn't finish, the Fuseki Army did." Waya gets through the news without breaking down solely because of rigorous training. Akira can tell; he had similar training. "General Shindou ordered me to flee and warn the Castle."
Of course he did, Akira thinks. Hikaru would only trust Waya for such a task. Hikaru...
He stares at Waya's broken, bloody face, imagining Hikaru on the front line amidst battle and blood and fear. He can feel Kaga looking at him, can hear Tsutsui's frantic writing. He is grateful for Akari's face powder; it helps him keep his face impassive when the news finally strikes his heart.
No. No -- no, he--
Hikaru.
He is dead. I--
I am dying.
end