Post by StaolDerg on May 5, 2023 8:40:00 GMT -5
“Who’s here?”
The messenger took a deep breath and opened her mouth again to repeat, but Gerifes suddenly held up a hand to stop her. “Slow down. Slow down. Niaoren haven’t crossed the Ousen Corridor in centuries since the last big war with them. You’re sure you only saw one group? Not a whole legion?”
“I’m certain they were alone. They didn’t seem like the scouts Great Grandmother told stories about– worn armor, poorly secured gear, and bearing a heavy rucksack that I can only assume was full of provisions. Their wings looked too tired to fly with, and they stuck entirely to the road without ever traveling off or onto the side and even camped in the middle of an open field. They resembled more fleeing refugees.”
The Community’s elders exchanged glances. Gerifes’ was worried: an old inselni like him had seen enough fighting in his lifetime to fear the slightest hint of a new conflict, from the final days of the Sanshan retreat to the ancient homeland to the riots brutally suppressed by the nascent Territorial Army in the early days of the Prefectural Government. But he looked over to his left, and to his utter horror, his grandson was grinning, like he’d just spotted the plumpest caribou in the region had just stumbled into a deep pit.
“Grandfather, my Expedition will venture out and find this errant group–”
“Absolutely not, Kang.” Gerifes snapped. “You’re too inexperienced.” He turned to the other two Elders, their own expressions a mix of confusion and concern.
“Listen. We should tell the government.”
“Who, Gerifes?” Another Elder sniped. “The Queen? Would you like to meander over to Kesternrim and ask the soldiers surrounding the Citadel for help? They’ve not sent anyone to help us whenever we asked for it since the Spiders took over, and I’m partially sure that we’re not even marked on a map aside from the Cities. Only people we’ve ever relied on for help are ourselves, and Community Reisika that one time thirty years ago.”
“This isn’t about what they have or haven’t done, Kasina! Why are Niaoren on our side of the border? Isn’t the army supposed to be watching the pass?”
Another Elder grumbled with exasperation. “It’s one small group, and they sound like they’re exiles anyway. If they’re hostile, then we can throw them out, no problem there. If they need help, honor demands we help them. It’s not that complex.”
Again Kang raised his hand. “I can go and find the traveler and bring them back!”
Gerifes gave his grandson the stink eye, but the first Elder stopped him. “Let him go.”
“What? You can’t be serious! He’s never led his own Expedition–”
“And he never will if you keep sheltering him from the outer world. He needs to learn to lead by himself in order to be the kind of Wanderer we were. Besides, this is a small task anyhow: it's within our lands. He’ll be safe, and if you’re still unconvinced, you’re free to go with him as the senior voice.” They turned to the other Elder, raising their hand.
“All in favor of allowing Kang to find this Niaoren?”
The other Elder raised their hand without hesitation, to the delight of Kang who was nearly jumping out of his seat at the prospect of action.
Gerifes groaned and reluctantly got up from his warm, comfortable chair.
“Fine. Kang, get your Expedition together. I’ll meet you outside Yuan Ka Village’s northern gate.”
—------
They found the Niaoren delegation by the road a stone’s throw away from the old quarry the ancestors had used to make bricks for homes. A few months ago this would’ve been the Territorial Army checkpoint maintained by the Bromsoll Army, but given their sudden mysterious regrouping all the way to the military fortress farther up the mountains, this stretch of the border area was left well and completely unguarded, save the occasional shepherd and their flock.
True enough to the word of the messenger, the Niaoren were unkempt, exhausted from their travel. Kang’s Expedition consisted of a hundred and thirty people, but it really didn’t seem all that necessary when the Niaoren only numbered five very unprepared warriors whose studded lamellar armor fit in with the fables of medieval times that the Community’s elders would tell stories about. Still, it wasn’t as if the Expedition were dressed like modern soldiers: the most advanced equipment on their persons were the flintlock rifles that the Community’s city forges had made to hunt large wildlife, and the old armor that they’d so hastily scrambled to put on wasn’t all that different from the Niaoren, except for mostly being heavier metal scale or chainmail.
Upon sighting the Expedition marching towards them, the Niaoren scrambled up from their makeshift tent, their feathered arms going for the swords on their belts. Instinctively, the Expediton’s number immediately began to brandish their own weapons, reaching for their powder horns to prime the frizzen. But though as panicked as they seemed, Gerifes watched as the Niaoren did not actually draw the blades, even as they watched the Elenrians raise and aim their own weapons. Realizing the imminent disaster. The old inselni lowered his own rifle and threw up a hand toward the people behind him. “Stop! Don’t shoot!”
Kang echoed his grandfather at once, raising his own arm and waving to his Expedition. “Stand down! Hold fire!”
With some reluctance, the wavering muzzles of the Expedition raised up and returned to face the sky as the confused Expeditonaries watched the Niaoren similarly relaxed their postures. Hesitantly, one of their number, dressed in more ornate armor, approached Gerifes and afforded him a polite bow, a gesture the old inselni returned.
“My deepest respect to your Community, and to your kind, Old Scaled One. I am the Samurai Hiro Iwatani, of Clan Mushura. On behalf of my liege, Lord Ikazuchi, I deliver the formal greetings of the Shogunate… as well as a formal plead for assistance for an increasingly dire situation in our lands..”
The Elenrians shuffled awkwardly, confused. Even Kang, who had been eyeing the foreigners suspiciously paused and glanced toward his grandfather with a look of blank surprise.
Gerifes frowned, and almost reluctantly at the samurai, replied, “On behalf of Toushen Community’s elder leadership, I will hear your argument. Make no mistake though: if this is a ploy to lure the Community into a false sense of security, we will have your feathers decorate the gates of our villages.”
“I understand, and by the honor of my liege lord, I will abide by your laws and customs for the duration of my delegation’s stay.”
“Very well. Expedition! Escort this delegation to the village of Senhan, and ensure they are treated well and hospitably. I will assemble the rest of the Elders to meet you shortly.”
—-
It was late in the afternoon by the time the rest of the Community’s leadership arrived. In addition to the crowd of curious onlookers from the village itself that had gathered, the expedition had garnered the attention of some additional passersby from the neighboring settlements, bringing the total audience up to about a hundred people huddled around the house that Gerifes had requested for the hearing. The other Elders of the Community, some seventeen people total, were gathered in the open dining courtyard of the house in front of the Niaoren Samurai as he haltingly described the predicament of his people in Motanhua, an effort that took much internal debate amongst the elders to figure out what the foreigner was trying to convey.
Still, the message eventually translated across: the Elerians were systematically wiping out the ancient people of the Southwest, and without help soon, they would cease to exist as a civilization. As he fell silent, the elders exchanged glances: bafflement on some, distrust and suspicion on many others. For the sake of retaining some degree of privacy, Gerifes switched languages to Kapari.
“[We owe these people nothing, and we have nothing towards them either. I say that we inform the central government and let them sort it out. This is none of our concern.]”
“” one of the elders piped up. “[If anything, we owe the Niaoren the reason for our community’s existence. Their offensives into the crumbling Empire composited the Eighteen Southwestern Surnames into our current community, and by doing so let us set aside our differences. And we have no love for the Elerians either. Were Elenria not under the Kumo banner, we’d be facing off with their expansion as they did with the Niaoren. And in fact, who’s to say they’ve stopped? No, we should help the Niaoren– it’ll slow down the Elerian expansion north towards us.]”
“[You are saying we ought to thank them for decimating our ancient homelands and cities?!]” Another snapped. “[Shall we thank them for slaughtering half of my ancestors as they made their way back north as refugees too? Should we also kiss the ground at their feet for destroying the nests of our kinspeople for the last millennium? Unbelievable.]”
“[The last war was over a century ago,]” Gerifes pointed out. “[We aren’t wanted in Eleria, and quite frankly, we don’t want to be there either. All the blood that was spilled then is now dried and washed away by the spring and fall showers; we have more pressing matters to tend to at home anyhow.]”
As the Samurai worriedly looked back and forth between the squabbling Elenrians, Kang, who was quietly perched at the edge of the room, moved forwards to the conversation. “[Grandfather,]” the Crown began tentatively, “[You mentioned that the age of bloodshed of the past is what makes it unworthy of pursuit. Well, I argue that the rivalry between our peoples is specifically why we ought to throw in our lot with them: If Eleria wipes out the Niaoren, we will never exact a final resolution for our differences across these centuries. The animosity will never settle between our people: our ancestors’ honor will remain restless and tainted by the failure of their descendants to attain a conclusion to the wars between our people.]”
The old inselni made a face. “[What?
If our heritage to the conquests of the Empire is to be honored as we have done so ever since the collapse of it four-odd centuries ago, we cannot– should not– accept a world where our victory is stolen by another party. This is our rivalry with the Niaoren. Countless lives have been lost in the pursuit of victory against the Niaoren, and though the world now is not fit for us to finish up what was started countless ages ago, that might change in the future.]”
“[The boy has a point.]”
“[Don’t defend him!]” Gerifes cried.
“[Our ancestors of the Empire only accepted integration or domination. Defeats on the battlefield were avenged by follow-up campaigns, or by diplomats negotiating the total integration of another culture into the households of Communities. In my view, we would indeed the dishonor our ancestors by failing to keep the Niaoren alive as a people.]”
The other elders began chittering amongst themselves once more, clearly intrigued. The elder who had spoken out raised his hand, calling out, “”
To Gerifes’ horror, other hands followed with sounds of assent, and he could do little but watch as a majority were quickly counted out. Feeling a sinking sensation in his stomach, he reluctantly raised his hand. “”
“[This seems fair. Very well.]”
As the old inselni sat back down in his seat, he could see the sheerly contained excitement of his grandson, the faces of his expedition bubbling with anticipatio along with him. Out of the other side of his peripheral vision, the Samurai were being informed, and as they bowed deeply with their limbs suddenly much more energetic and full of life, he found that he could feel little more than lethargic dread.
—
Toushen Community had only a small time to prepare, but in that time they still managed to scramble equipment and supplies for their Expedition. From the community itself came roughly three hundred additional volunteers to the Expedition, and a deal struck with the Oudun Community up north of them negotiated the delivery a good hundred old eight-shot Murata rifles quietly smuggled out of the local armory and into the hands of a now four hundred-ffty strong force, only to be further augmented by another hundred eager Wanderers and who had learned of the Expedition from the looser-lipped members of Kang’s force. Not knowing all too much about what they should expect, Gerifes nevertheless retrieved his old Imperial Army colonel’s uniform and sword and joined his grandson as the most senior actually seasoned officer in the expedition.
Within three days of completing preparations, they marched south on horseback, following closely behind their Niaoren guides. Kang couldn’t help but feel a tinge of nostalgia: the community’s history texts said that the last Elenrian Expedition to cross through the Ousen Corridor south with the intended destination of the Niaoren lands was six hundred years ago.
The messenger took a deep breath and opened her mouth again to repeat, but Gerifes suddenly held up a hand to stop her. “Slow down. Slow down. Niaoren haven’t crossed the Ousen Corridor in centuries since the last big war with them. You’re sure you only saw one group? Not a whole legion?”
“I’m certain they were alone. They didn’t seem like the scouts Great Grandmother told stories about– worn armor, poorly secured gear, and bearing a heavy rucksack that I can only assume was full of provisions. Their wings looked too tired to fly with, and they stuck entirely to the road without ever traveling off or onto the side and even camped in the middle of an open field. They resembled more fleeing refugees.”
The Community’s elders exchanged glances. Gerifes’ was worried: an old inselni like him had seen enough fighting in his lifetime to fear the slightest hint of a new conflict, from the final days of the Sanshan retreat to the ancient homeland to the riots brutally suppressed by the nascent Territorial Army in the early days of the Prefectural Government. But he looked over to his left, and to his utter horror, his grandson was grinning, like he’d just spotted the plumpest caribou in the region had just stumbled into a deep pit.
“Grandfather, my Expedition will venture out and find this errant group–”
“Absolutely not, Kang.” Gerifes snapped. “You’re too inexperienced.” He turned to the other two Elders, their own expressions a mix of confusion and concern.
“Listen. We should tell the government.”
“Who, Gerifes?” Another Elder sniped. “The Queen? Would you like to meander over to Kesternrim and ask the soldiers surrounding the Citadel for help? They’ve not sent anyone to help us whenever we asked for it since the Spiders took over, and I’m partially sure that we’re not even marked on a map aside from the Cities. Only people we’ve ever relied on for help are ourselves, and Community Reisika that one time thirty years ago.”
“This isn’t about what they have or haven’t done, Kasina! Why are Niaoren on our side of the border? Isn’t the army supposed to be watching the pass?”
Another Elder grumbled with exasperation. “It’s one small group, and they sound like they’re exiles anyway. If they’re hostile, then we can throw them out, no problem there. If they need help, honor demands we help them. It’s not that complex.”
Again Kang raised his hand. “I can go and find the traveler and bring them back!”
Gerifes gave his grandson the stink eye, but the first Elder stopped him. “Let him go.”
“What? You can’t be serious! He’s never led his own Expedition–”
“And he never will if you keep sheltering him from the outer world. He needs to learn to lead by himself in order to be the kind of Wanderer we were. Besides, this is a small task anyhow: it's within our lands. He’ll be safe, and if you’re still unconvinced, you’re free to go with him as the senior voice.” They turned to the other Elder, raising their hand.
“All in favor of allowing Kang to find this Niaoren?”
The other Elder raised their hand without hesitation, to the delight of Kang who was nearly jumping out of his seat at the prospect of action.
Gerifes groaned and reluctantly got up from his warm, comfortable chair.
“Fine. Kang, get your Expedition together. I’ll meet you outside Yuan Ka Village’s northern gate.”
—------
They found the Niaoren delegation by the road a stone’s throw away from the old quarry the ancestors had used to make bricks for homes. A few months ago this would’ve been the Territorial Army checkpoint maintained by the Bromsoll Army, but given their sudden mysterious regrouping all the way to the military fortress farther up the mountains, this stretch of the border area was left well and completely unguarded, save the occasional shepherd and their flock.
True enough to the word of the messenger, the Niaoren were unkempt, exhausted from their travel. Kang’s Expedition consisted of a hundred and thirty people, but it really didn’t seem all that necessary when the Niaoren only numbered five very unprepared warriors whose studded lamellar armor fit in with the fables of medieval times that the Community’s elders would tell stories about. Still, it wasn’t as if the Expedition were dressed like modern soldiers: the most advanced equipment on their persons were the flintlock rifles that the Community’s city forges had made to hunt large wildlife, and the old armor that they’d so hastily scrambled to put on wasn’t all that different from the Niaoren, except for mostly being heavier metal scale or chainmail.
Upon sighting the Expedition marching towards them, the Niaoren scrambled up from their makeshift tent, their feathered arms going for the swords on their belts. Instinctively, the Expediton’s number immediately began to brandish their own weapons, reaching for their powder horns to prime the frizzen. But though as panicked as they seemed, Gerifes watched as the Niaoren did not actually draw the blades, even as they watched the Elenrians raise and aim their own weapons. Realizing the imminent disaster. The old inselni lowered his own rifle and threw up a hand toward the people behind him. “Stop! Don’t shoot!”
Kang echoed his grandfather at once, raising his own arm and waving to his Expedition. “Stand down! Hold fire!”
With some reluctance, the wavering muzzles of the Expedition raised up and returned to face the sky as the confused Expeditonaries watched the Niaoren similarly relaxed their postures. Hesitantly, one of their number, dressed in more ornate armor, approached Gerifes and afforded him a polite bow, a gesture the old inselni returned.
“My deepest respect to your Community, and to your kind, Old Scaled One. I am the Samurai Hiro Iwatani, of Clan Mushura. On behalf of my liege, Lord Ikazuchi, I deliver the formal greetings of the Shogunate… as well as a formal plead for assistance for an increasingly dire situation in our lands..”
The Elenrians shuffled awkwardly, confused. Even Kang, who had been eyeing the foreigners suspiciously paused and glanced toward his grandfather with a look of blank surprise.
Gerifes frowned, and almost reluctantly at the samurai, replied, “On behalf of Toushen Community’s elder leadership, I will hear your argument. Make no mistake though: if this is a ploy to lure the Community into a false sense of security, we will have your feathers decorate the gates of our villages.”
“I understand, and by the honor of my liege lord, I will abide by your laws and customs for the duration of my delegation’s stay.”
“Very well. Expedition! Escort this delegation to the village of Senhan, and ensure they are treated well and hospitably. I will assemble the rest of the Elders to meet you shortly.”
—-
It was late in the afternoon by the time the rest of the Community’s leadership arrived. In addition to the crowd of curious onlookers from the village itself that had gathered, the expedition had garnered the attention of some additional passersby from the neighboring settlements, bringing the total audience up to about a hundred people huddled around the house that Gerifes had requested for the hearing. The other Elders of the Community, some seventeen people total, were gathered in the open dining courtyard of the house in front of the Niaoren Samurai as he haltingly described the predicament of his people in Motanhua, an effort that took much internal debate amongst the elders to figure out what the foreigner was trying to convey.
Still, the message eventually translated across: the Elerians were systematically wiping out the ancient people of the Southwest, and without help soon, they would cease to exist as a civilization. As he fell silent, the elders exchanged glances: bafflement on some, distrust and suspicion on many others. For the sake of retaining some degree of privacy, Gerifes switched languages to Kapari.
“[We owe these people nothing, and we have nothing towards them either. I say that we inform the central government and let them sort it out. This is none of our concern.]”
“” one of the elders piped up. “[If anything, we owe the Niaoren the reason for our community’s existence. Their offensives into the crumbling Empire composited the Eighteen Southwestern Surnames into our current community, and by doing so let us set aside our differences. And we have no love for the Elerians either. Were Elenria not under the Kumo banner, we’d be facing off with their expansion as they did with the Niaoren. And in fact, who’s to say they’ve stopped? No, we should help the Niaoren– it’ll slow down the Elerian expansion north towards us.]”
“[You are saying we ought to thank them for decimating our ancient homelands and cities?!]” Another snapped. “[Shall we thank them for slaughtering half of my ancestors as they made their way back north as refugees too? Should we also kiss the ground at their feet for destroying the nests of our kinspeople for the last millennium? Unbelievable.]”
“[The last war was over a century ago,]” Gerifes pointed out. “[We aren’t wanted in Eleria, and quite frankly, we don’t want to be there either. All the blood that was spilled then is now dried and washed away by the spring and fall showers; we have more pressing matters to tend to at home anyhow.]”
As the Samurai worriedly looked back and forth between the squabbling Elenrians, Kang, who was quietly perched at the edge of the room, moved forwards to the conversation. “[Grandfather,]” the Crown began tentatively, “[You mentioned that the age of bloodshed of the past is what makes it unworthy of pursuit. Well, I argue that the rivalry between our peoples is specifically why we ought to throw in our lot with them: If Eleria wipes out the Niaoren, we will never exact a final resolution for our differences across these centuries. The animosity will never settle between our people: our ancestors’ honor will remain restless and tainted by the failure of their descendants to attain a conclusion to the wars between our people.]”
The old inselni made a face. “[What?
If our heritage to the conquests of the Empire is to be honored as we have done so ever since the collapse of it four-odd centuries ago, we cannot– should not– accept a world where our victory is stolen by another party. This is our rivalry with the Niaoren. Countless lives have been lost in the pursuit of victory against the Niaoren, and though the world now is not fit for us to finish up what was started countless ages ago, that might change in the future.]”
“[The boy has a point.]”
“[Don’t defend him!]” Gerifes cried.
“[Our ancestors of the Empire only accepted integration or domination. Defeats on the battlefield were avenged by follow-up campaigns, or by diplomats negotiating the total integration of another culture into the households of Communities. In my view, we would indeed the dishonor our ancestors by failing to keep the Niaoren alive as a people.]”
The other elders began chittering amongst themselves once more, clearly intrigued. The elder who had spoken out raised his hand, calling out, “”
To Gerifes’ horror, other hands followed with sounds of assent, and he could do little but watch as a majority were quickly counted out. Feeling a sinking sensation in his stomach, he reluctantly raised his hand. “”
“[This seems fair. Very well.]”
As the old inselni sat back down in his seat, he could see the sheerly contained excitement of his grandson, the faces of his expedition bubbling with anticipatio along with him. Out of the other side of his peripheral vision, the Samurai were being informed, and as they bowed deeply with their limbs suddenly much more energetic and full of life, he found that he could feel little more than lethargic dread.
—
Toushen Community had only a small time to prepare, but in that time they still managed to scramble equipment and supplies for their Expedition. From the community itself came roughly three hundred additional volunteers to the Expedition, and a deal struck with the Oudun Community up north of them negotiated the delivery a good hundred old eight-shot Murata rifles quietly smuggled out of the local armory and into the hands of a now four hundred-ffty strong force, only to be further augmented by another hundred eager Wanderers and who had learned of the Expedition from the looser-lipped members of Kang’s force. Not knowing all too much about what they should expect, Gerifes nevertheless retrieved his old Imperial Army colonel’s uniform and sword and joined his grandson as the most senior actually seasoned officer in the expedition.
Within three days of completing preparations, they marched south on horseback, following closely behind their Niaoren guides. Kang couldn’t help but feel a tinge of nostalgia: the community’s history texts said that the last Elenrian Expedition to cross through the Ousen Corridor south with the intended destination of the Niaoren lands was six hundred years ago.
