The Aftermath...

My body was tired to the core, my limbs limp, eyes vacant, soul weary with a mind cast adrift by recent events.  I pressed my palms against my closed eyes as visions kept racing through my head.  My father's once proud form, slumped up against our wall...  Mikisai returning with our father's forge hammer, the forge itself a burning ruin behind his tear streaked form...  Geniven shouting for us to leave...  Finding my father's revolver, still gripped in his stiffening fingers, barrel hot to the touch...  I felt the reassuring weight of the weapon even now, strapped to my side, my only remaining link to the man who raised me, taught me how to shoot, and the true meaning of honor.

A sigh escaped my lips as I rubbed at my eyes, yet still the visions came.  The flight from the Crafthouse, the cries of the Hell Knights at our heels, the smell of smoke and death that clung to everything...   Geniven pulling back a well used sewer grate, us following, fleeing the wan light of day...  The wandering through the black, foul smelling under belly of the city, rats scurrying a midst our feet, one fleeing vermin fleeing another...  The strange encounter with the undead that walked there in the dark...  Then finding respite amongst the hidden refuge of The Resistance, where I am now...  Taking a raking breath in, I held it for a moment before letting it go.  As I exhaled I felt myself coming once more to my senses as the visions subsided for a time.

Tetsuo Tenzen

I hurt.  Something was poking into my back, something cold and hard, most likely the cavern wall.  My legs were covered in filth, my once fine afternoon strolling clothes irreparably ruined.  The smell of smoke and burnt powder and shit clung to me like a foul aura, and my eyes stung as I opened them, dry from the hours of smoke and tears.  Still, I am alive, and while I live, there exists the chance for Revenge.  My hand flexed over the grip of my father's revolver, loosening only after an effort of will.  ...and my mother.  I must find out what has happened to her.  Father would want that above all else...


Forcing myself to focus, I looked around, taking in the dimly lit cavern for the first time.  An arched, vaulted brick ceiling rose overhead, disappearing into obscurity as the few torches placed about flickered.  A slight breeze blew through the chamber, bringing with it the rank odor of the nearby sewers.  Barrels, half opened crates and few scattered bedrolls lay against the curved walls, shadowy figures hunched nearby, or laying prone in a vain attempt to sleep.  From a nearby chamber a small group of warriors practiced at arms, their dulled training blades echoing oddly throughout the chamber.

Geniven was in quiet counsel with Belaron nearby, heads together over a hand drawn map and speaking in quiet tones.  Mikisai stood to one side, fresh bandages over the wound in his side as he scowled at the pretty girl tending to him.  Must be hard for him, with so few male nurses...  Cillyra sat on a nearby keg, her snake curled around the barrel, its head in her lap.  So, guess I didn't dream that part either...  Gathering my strength, I pushed off the wall and stood up, joining them.

Mikisai Tenzen

"So, sleeping beauty decides to join us after all..."  came Mikisai's voice as he saw me approach.  The healer finished her work by pulling the bandage a little tighter than absolutely necessary, causing him to wince.  "Careful there woman!"  She murmured an apology I was entirely certain was fallacious, picked up her kit and turned.  Her hazel green eyes caught mine and she winked as she passed.  I couldn't help but return her smile.

"Alas, my own beauty is a curse at times, but I bear up under the strain as best I can" I quipped in reply.  "What are we about then?"

"If you would be so good as to stop your inane bickering, you might already have known, half-brother..." came Belaron's voice as he looked up from the map.  Did I mention my brothers were more than a tad on the 'terse and grumpy' side of things?  I swear, at times you would think they were part dwarf or something...

Geniven

 "I am glad you are up Tetsuo.  We are discussing how to recover your mother, the Lady Selena from the clutches of Borean's men" Geniven said, diplomatically interjecting herself into the conversation.  Her conversational gambit worked, and all three brothers turned towards her.  Cillyra looked up from petting her snake and nodded as well.  "The Children of Thuran have received information as to the whereabouts of..."


"The 'Children of Thuran'?  What is that, some kind of bard cover band or something?" I asked.  Belaron and Mikisai both shot me a quelling look and I shut up.

"No, it is actually the name of the Resistance, whose secret base you are currently taking refuge in" Geniven replied with only a trace of annoyance in her voice.  Nice one Tetsuo, nice one.  Way to score points.  "It appears Lord Borean has declared your mother a traitor to the throne and seized her earlier this day.  However, she is too beloved of the people to simply execute - at least without repercussions - so he is instead having her interned in the dread Citadel of Re'Vat.  He will no doubt dispose of her there once she has been out of the public eye for a sufficient length of time."


"Then we will stop them before they can accomplish such a thing" Mikisai said as a matter of fact.  "Do we know where they have her now?"


"In fact, we do.  They are holding her in heart of their most secure dungeons, beneath the main palace itself..." Geniven said.

"Well, that breaks it then.  I suppose there are less honorable ways to die than storming the gates to recover her..." Mikisai growled.

"As honorable as your intentions are, there is another alternative..." the leather clad leader of the Rebels replied, placing her finger on the map and tracing a line from the city walls to the outlying Citadel.

Belaron

Belaron nodded, eyes narrowing, "Hit then en route.  I know this road.  I worked it as a caravan guard during my time with the Shining Shield.  Sparse, rocky terrain.  Swamp to the south through here..."  His motion indicated part of the map as he continued, "...and a few small copses of trees along the roadway here.  There is one major bend in the road here, amidst the rock fields roughly half way towards the Citadel, just before the crossroads."


Geniven nodded, once more appreciating Belaron's quick grasp of the situation before saying, "My thoughts exactly.  The Resistance has some secret tunnels that can get you out of the city quickly, hopefully putting you ahead of Borean's lackeys.  We can offer you some reprovisioning, and I will send one of my most trusted members with you."


"You won't be coming with us yourself?" I heard myself ask, glancing at her leather clad form.

She smiled as she looked at me, but shook her head, "No, I must stay here and organize the Children of Thuran.  The tyrant that rules this city will feel the peoples displeasure before another sun sets."  Seeing the disappointment in my face, her expression softened somewhat as she added, "My heart will be with you however.  Free your mother, avenge your father.  I feel the fate of this city is somehow tied up in your deeds, and as such my own hopes and dreams are as well."  And with that, she leaned forward and kissed me.  Sure, it was on the forehead, and wasn't exactly the passionate embrace I had imagined, but it still left me slightly stunned, in a good sort of way.

Cillyra Brewer

It was then that Cillyra, bless her diminutive soul, broke the awkward silence that threatened to follow by piping up, "My parents brewery is not far from there, but a days ride or so.  Perhaps it would be wise to head there after so visibly nabbing your ma and kicking Borean's dogs in the teeth, eh?"  She said the whole thing in such a happy, gleeful tone it was at strange odds with the seven foot snake she absent mindedly petted as she spoke.  Now that is one spooky chic.  Cute, but spooky.  As if reading my thoughts, she caught my glance and winked.  So did her snake.  Like I said, spooky.


"An excellent idea.  The city will most likely be locked down once news gets out what has happened.  Now, how to stage this ambush?" Belaron put in, ever mindful of the details.

"Let us stand in the road, and slay them as they come" suggested Mikisai, ever the one with the more straight forward approach.

"Actually, I had something more devious in mind..." I said.  Faces turned and looked at me with a mixture of interest and annoyance.  Grinning, I continued, "We could stage an accident, on overturned cart in the road, right at the bend Belaron mentioned perhaps.  We could be hidden amongst the rocks and trees nearby, just one of us on the road, the distraught tinkerer with his overturned cart, in need of aid."  I could see more and more of them nodding as the idea gathered steam.  Rubbing my chin, I mused out loud, "Of course, we will need someone to pose as the tinkerer, and that means standing out in the open, staring down the carriage and all of those armed, suspicious, angry guards..."  When I looked up, everyone was looking directly at me.  "Hey, now wait a minute here!"


...


...and that's how I came to be dressed in a leather work apron, floppy hat and light green hose, standing alone beside a perfectly functional overturned cart in the middle of the road.  Staring down over a dozen men and a massive carriage heading right towards me.  Oh, did I mention they have a ballista on the roof?

The ballista is hard to see, but it's there.  Honest!

Seeds of Revenge

Blood rushed through my ears and my vision dimmed, the dull beat of my heart pounding through my head as all I heard was the phrase, "They killed him Genny.  They killed Master Hanzo!"  Master Hanzo.  Father.  Dad.

Gone.

I was unconsciously aware of my bodies movement, of the over turning of the table we had been seated at, the abstract pattern the ale made as it spilled across the floor, pitcher shattered and forgotten like so many dreams of care free summer days.  There was motion and shouting, someone was crying, possibly me.  We were outside, weapons drawn.  Motion.



The drumming in my ears subsided somewhat as we loped down the street towards home.  Already you could smell the scent of smoke in the air, twin spirals of discordant grey and black winding their way above the clay tiled roofs of the city, like a pair of fingers pointing towards our destination.  Mikisai had his katana drawn, his mouth moving silently in a prayer to the powers as his blade faintly crackled with energy.  Belaron had moved ahead, bow drawn.  I glanced at Cillyra, riding in her cart a few paces behind Geniven, her normally cordial face for once without cheer.

I took a deep breath.  There was one thing to do now.  Life's hard decisions had dropped by the way side.  There were no more warring conflicts of the soul.  No more lazy days of indecision.  Everything was clear now.  Life now had one meaning.  Revenge.

I reached for my gun.

Calm sank into my being as I felt the solid reassuring weight of the Nalwood grip between my fingers.  The pistol had a weight to it that centered ones being.  A grim smile crossed my face as I tipped some powder into the barrel and rammed home the wadding in two quick economical moves, bullet following.  The house was nearly in view now, the smoke getting much thicker.  It was almost time.

The cart stopped, the small pony pulling it rolling its eyes in nervous anxiety at being so close to fire.  The Crafthouse on fire.  Geniven tried to gather us together to get a plan of action, but Mikisai shouldered past her and disappeared through a billow of smoke into the inner courtyard, disappearing under the circular arch.    My eyes narrowed as for once, I completely agreed with my brother.  There was no need for a plan.  There was only the one thing.  Distractedly I noticed Belaron following in his wake as I crawled up on the edge of the cart.  Cillyra was in back, moving her arms and doing something as she gathered powers about her.  Had I not been so focused on my own exploits, I would have stopped and gaped, but reality had taken on a surreal undertone and nothing seemed to out of the question.  Placing one foot firmly on the top of the cart, I crouched low and gathered up my strength before springing upwards.  The wind and smoke billowed about me as I arced through the air, landing catlike atop the nearby wall of my family's small estate.

Balancing atop the smoke swept wall I stayed crouched, head down, eyes closed.  I let my sense range out over the battlefield that had been my home.  I heard a Schnickt! and a crackle of energy, followed by crumple of  body just inside the courtyard.  Something breaking inside my home - No, it's just another building now, it will never be my home again - then raised voices and weapons being drawn.  Cillyra's soft chanting coming to a stop, then something answering her in a voice full of soft hisses.  Hobnailed boots moving across the floor, then bursting out of the front door.  Voices raised in bloodthirsty anticipation, turned to surprise.  The sharp Tuunng! of my half-brother's bow, followed immediately by a cry of pain and a weapon clattering to the stairs.  Now...


My eyes snapped open, the world resolving in sharp detail around me.  I stood quickly, turning to face the interior of the courtyard as I did so, my long hair splayed out behind me as I brought the pistol to bear.  A mail clad Hell Knight was down on one knee, yanking at an arrow sunk deep in his thigh.  Another followed quick on his heels, live steel glinting in the already visible flames as he rushed Belaron.  My world turned into a tunnel, its edges growing dim as if all that existed was a straight line connecting the extension of my arm, my pistol, and the Hell Knight into one point.  It was almost a surprise when the pistol went off in my hand, jerking like a live thing as it spit death at the killer in front of me.

The Hell Knight's torso slammed backwards as his feet ran out from under him, literally flipping him on to his back in a spray of blood.  His helmet spiraled through the air, then came careening down next to him.  The first Hell Knight cursed as he tore the arrow from his thigh and reached for his blade, bringing it up to block a swing from Mikisai in a clash of metal on metal.  Belaron cursed as he notched another arrow, quickly changing position to try and get a clear shot past his brother.  His eyes widened as a figure streaked by him on the ground, moving fast and low in a flash of scales.  Scales?  Mikisai's opponent suddenly stiffened as a nearly seven foot long snake wrapped itself around his legs and bit into his torso.

CRASH!  The front door of the Crafthouse was kicked off it's hinges and went banging down the stairs, causing Mikisai to sidestep out of the way and disengage his now rapidly stiffening opponent to avoid being hit by the solid oak panel.  Standing in the doorway was the biggest damn Hell Knight I had ever seen, like a mountain made flesh.  His full plate helm had been molded into a snarling demonesque visage, and he wore plate pauldrons over his mail covering all of his arms down to massive, claw like gauntlets.  He held a square topped blade equal to my height and half my weight with casual ease in one hand, the other flexed into a fist as he raised his kite shield, the blazon heraldry of Lord Borean across its front.

"Look who's home for dinner..." he drawled, his voice low and deep from inside his massive helm.

Belaron snarled and released his arrow, which the Hell Knight sergeant deflected with his shield with contemptuous ease.  The sound of the arrow crashing off the shield brought me back to my senses, my hands flying to my belt and the powder horn kept there.  It was an effort of concentration to keep the hands deftly working as I watched the giant of a man snarl and stride down the stairs in two easy steps, his massive blade flashing out as he did so.  Metal crashed on metal as Mikisai desperately parried, back pedaling all the while,  his much smaller Hanzo Blade expertly turning aside the larger weapon.

With a sudden burst of speed surprising in one so large, the Hell Knight battered aside Mikisai's blade with his shield and lashed out with his blade.  Mikisai's quick sidestep saved his life, but a bloom of crimson stained his torso as he staggered back.  Sensing the kill was close, the towering warrior pressed forward, raising his weapon.

BAAMMM!


He staggered back, a shower of sparks and blood arcing out from his pauldron.  It was only then that I realized I had fired my pistol.  Less than a second later an arrow shaft sprouted from his other shoulder, finding its way between two of the overlapping plates of protective steel.  With a roar the beast of a man shook off the pain and brought his meat cleaver of a sword crashing down at Mikisai before him.  Rolling lightly on his feet, Mikisai sidestepped the blow and came to stand beside his assailant.  Ancient paving stones cracked under the weight of the blow, lodging the weapon in place for a moment.  With a roar the Hell Knight fought to free his weapon.

"For my father.  For honor" Mikisai said as energies coursed down his arm, crackling over his fresh wound and flowing into his blade.  Taking a two handed grip, the blade flashed down in an electric arc, blinding the eye to see.  I blinked at the intensity of it, my eyes snapping shut to protect themselves.  There was a sizzling sound and a few dull thumps, accompanied by the smell of burnt flesh.  Opening my eyes I saw Mikisai standing over the headless form of our father's killer, holding the blade named after him in silent pose.  Slowly, ever so slowly, the armored form toppled forward, crashing into the courtyard with a dull boom.

It was only then that we saw the crumpled form of Hanzo Tenzen, The Hanzo, our father, slumped against the side of the house, sword still in hand even as he died.  A litter of bodies surrounded him, for even in his advanced age, he had been a Master.

My voice caught in my throat.  It hadn't been real.  Til now...

The Tea Time of Discord

The busy interior of The Golden Flower

The interior of the Golden Flower was cozy yet elegant, cutting the fine line between being an upper class drinking establishment, and a local pub.  You could see it in the small details, like the intricate carvings on the banisters, local work from the look of it, to glossy finish on the polished oak bartop.  Yet for all that, there was the usual assortment of denziens scattered about the place, a merchant recent arrived to town, a trio of out of work mercenaries, and what looked to be a  dwarven barfly parked permanently on the end barstool.

Geniven nodded to the solid looking barman behind the counter who smiled in return as we came in the front doors.  A pretty serving wench curtseyed as she went past, carrying a tray laden with steins.  I was pleased to see she was well respected by her employees.  Father always said, "Judge a merchant not by the quality of his wares, but by the nature of his business, and the respect of those who work for them".  In this respect, I think Father would be quite pleased with the proprietor of this fine establishment.  I knew I was, as I watched her slip into one of the back booths and motion for us to join her.  Mikisai rolled his eyes at me and shook his head slightly.  As strong and quick as he was, he had never once batted an eye at such a beauty as far as I could tell. Mind you, the blacksmith's apprentice across the road...  but that is another matter.

We soon found ourselves seated around the small table in the far corner of the establishment, just secluded enough to avoid being casually overheard but still out in the open.  I also noticed it had a commanding view of the front door, and was within paces of the discrete side exit the staff used.  My already considerable estimation of Geniven went up a notch, especially after the first pitcher of ale arrived.

Looking around the table, I had to smile at the unlikely group seated with me.  There was my brother Mikisai, his dark hair hanging in front of his face and obscuring him from vision, my half-brother Belaron with his practical clothes and wary eyes, Geniven in her low cut red leather, and Cillyra the Brewer with her mischievous grin and easy laugh.  As good a crew as fate could randomly throw together for a few pints on a sunny, lazy afternoon.  Little did I know at the time that fate, fickle as always, had much larger plans in store for us.

"Thank you for taking the time to join me for a pint.  I appreciate it deeply" Geniven said as she finished expertly pouring the last glass and setting down the now empty pitcher.

"It is no great burden upon us to do so, especially with a woman as beautiful as yourself" I said with my most winning smile.

Mikisai snorted and replied, "My brother is a bore, but the ale is good."


"Free beer!"  Cillyra put in, raising her half pint in salute.

Geniven smiled good naturedly and raised her own stein in salute, "To the honorable Master Hanzo, whom we all owe a debt of gratitude.  May he live a thousand lifetimes in happiness."  With that everyone raised their glasses and knocked them together in salute, an age old past time as old as drinking.

Once the glasses were back on the table, Belaron surprised the group by speaking, his voice pitched just above a whisper so it would not carry.  "Nice speech.  Now, mind telling us why we are really here?"


"Now Belaron, it won't do to be so rude to our host, why she..." I began, leaping to defend her honor in this matter.  She cut me off before I could truly get rolling, however, much to my chagrin once I heard what she had to say.

"Most perceptive, as usual Belaron.  I see your skills have improved while upon the road.  Yes, I have indeed asked you all to met with me for a deeper reason than the sharing of a pint.  Let me now to that address you directly"  She smiled as she said these words, and I had a chance to regain my composure.

"As I am sure you all know, our fair city is ruled over by a Council, most noble and wise, the Council of Thuran..."  she began.

"Our mother Selena is on the council in fact..." I put in, quieting again after a quelling look from both brothers.

Lady Oliana Boriar

"Indeed she is, a fact that is not lost to me... or the Resistance.  For you see, she stands near alone in a small minority of nobles and representatives that act nobly and with the thought of the people in mind, not their own self aggrandizement and power mongering.  And the worst of all is none other than Oliana Boriar herself, and her crony of a henchman Lord Borean..."  She looked around the table, holding each of our gaze for a moment as she laid down these deadly accusations.  Men had been killed for less, as to say as such was treason.

I took another long draught of ale as I digested the news, watching the reaction on my companions faces.  Belaron's face was impassive as always, Mikisai scowled, and Cillyra's was an enigmatic smile.  In other words, I had no idea what they were thinking.

"But to say so is treason, punishable by death my lady..." I said in a low voice as I leaned forward.  "And with so many Hell Knights on the streets these days, dangerous to say even in the confines of ones own establishment.  Why tell us these things?"


"I thought it should be obvious, younger brother.  She means to recruit us" Belaron stated as a matter of fact.

"Once again, correct.  If this city is to survive, its people prosper, someone must act.  We must act!  Families and dissenters disappear all of the time, for the mere crime of disagreeing with her policies.  Armed thugs patrol the streets, not to keep it safe, but to enforce the will of a tyrannical ruler.  We can not let this happen any longer!"  Passion crept into her voice as she spoke, her face flushed with excitement.  "Will you join the Cause, and take up arms against this injustice?"


I looked at my two brothers, suddenly caught between warring desires.  Helping Geniven felt like the right thing to do, but we were honor bound to our father, and to the ruler of the city in which we dwelt. I saw the same thoughts work themselves across my brother's faces, although far more rapidly than they did my own.  It was Mikisai that spoke first, "You speak true, but we are bound by honor and duty to our father.  Without his word of assent, we can not do this thing that you ask."


Belaron arched an eyebrow at the wording, he himself having always made it a point that Master Hanzo was no father of his, but still the point held true.  He nodded in curt agreement.  I sighed and let out a breath I hadn't been aware I was holding before chiming in, "I am afraid my brothers are right.  We simply can not betray our word to our father, no matter how great the cause.  I am deeply sorry..."


Geniven would not give up, however, and continued, "Those packages you delivered...  Know here they are headed?  To the Resistance!  He has been supplying us with arms, willingly and with his full knowledge.  Clearly he would support such an action!"


She looked at each of us, and for a moment my resolve wavered, until Belaron spoke, "I am sorry mistress, but we can not..."


It was then that the front door to the tavern burst open.  Hands went to weapons and muscles tensed, Belaron was already half way out of his seat when we saw it was a young lass, not the Hell Knights we had expected.

Geniven stood and called to the girl, "Larissa, what ever is the matter?"


The young girl stammered as she said, "Oh Geniven...  T-t-they killed him.  It was horrible!"


"There there girl, it'll be alright.  Now, who are you talking about dear?"


The young girl took a couple calming breaths, then looked up at Geniven who held her for comfort.  "They killed him Genny.  They killed Master Hanzo!"

The Intrigue of The Golden Flower

"Why do I have to carry the heavy one?" Mikisai complained as he casually lugged the compact yet heavy box under one arm.  Mikisai did not look it upon first glance, but he was an incredibly strong man.  I remember him lifting an entire cart that had fallen on one of father's apprentices a year or so ago.  He had barely broken a sweat.

I laughed, and replied, "Because some of us are born with good looks, and others with an over abundance of muscles.  Guess which you are brother?"  He scowled at me and I danced out of his reach as he kicked at my shins.

Belaron rolled his eyes and nodded across the street with his chin, asking "That usual?  Seem to be a lot more of them out than I remember last time I was in town..."


We followed his gaze and saw the mail clad form of a group of Hell Knights harassing a pair of street vendors.  They had close faced steel helms that made them seem less than human, and had a sour reputation amongst the denziens of the city.

Geniven's General Adventuring Goodes...

"What, Borean's thugs?  Why our fearless leader Oliana Boriar puts up with them is beyond me, but who knows.  Perhaps we should ask mother when she is back from the Council session."  Our mother, the one thing that Belaron and Mikisai and I all did have in common, was a long standing and respected member of the Council of Thuran, the ruling body of the city under the wise guidance of Lady Oliana Boriar.  An unscheduled council session had been called today, and we hadn't seen her since morning.  I squinted as I noticed they had increased their usual two man patrols up to four, and there seemed to be more of those wandering the streets bothering people than usual as well...  "Yeah, now that you mention it, there does seem to be an awfully lot of them out today..."


We moved on before they took notice of us, pushing our way through the crowd with the easy of long practice.  It helped when Mikisai would occasionally give them an encouraging shove, followed up by a black glare.  I would follow behind, making apologies when necessary, or more threats when not.  It wasn't a long walk to where we needed to make the delivery, a small shop adjacent to the tavern The Golden Flower, both owned by Geniven.  It took about fifteen minutes in total, but in that time we passed another three patrols of Hell Knights, something we all took note of.

Geniven

A small set of bells tinkled as we stepped off the busy street and into the cool lit room of Geniven's General Adventuring Goodes, alerting the proprietress to our presence.  Mikisai heaved his heavy box onto the countertop and rubbed his hands off on his tunic with a grunt of relief.  Belaron stood by the door and surreptitiously looked back out the small shoppe window, watching another group of Hell Knights march past.  For my part, I took a look around as I enjoyed the coolness of the shoppes interior.  The majority of the gear was of decent quality, basic adventuring stuff from the looks of it.  Your average assortment of ten foot poles, hemp rope, and semi portable anvils.  Who used this stuff anyways?  The one thing that stuck out was the weapons.  They were all of excellent quality and make.  There were even a few firearms on display, something you rarely saw these days, even in such a cosmopolitan city as Thuran.  I was just running my finger over the Nalwood stock of a modern blunderbuss when she walked out...

"And I suppose you are the young men that Master Hanzo sent over with my delivery, mmm?" she asked as she walked out from behind the counter.  She moved with the easy grace of someone who was experienced with the blade, and had a presence that could fill a room far grander than her simple shoppe.  She wore red leather with black piping and had a face that you would go to war over.  She cocked a grin at me as she caught me gaping and I suddenly realized what it must be like for all of those poort girls I met.  With a force of will, I closed my mouth and regained my composure.

"Here is your delivery" Mikisai said with his usual curt efficiency, pushing the box on the countertop a little towards her and then crossing his muscular arms.  Belaron turned from the window and simply nodded at Geniven, his eyes taking in a glimpse of the back room and appraising it for exits.

I recovered my wits and tongue at this point, and put on my most winning smile as I added, "And these as well, madam.  Some of the finest Hanzo swords our father has produced these many years, blades of unsurpassed beauty equal to that of their new owner..."  I smiled and held the cloth wrapped swords out to her, bowing my head in acknowledgment as I did so.

Her laugh was like liquid music as it filled the small room, and her smile lit the darkness.  "You do me an honor sir, and to think, Master Hanzo sent his very sons to make the delivery!"  She took the blades from me, our fingers brushing over one and other for the briefest of moments.  "Let us see if their quality is up to the standards of that glib tongue of yours, eh?"  she said with a smile.

A Hanzo sword...

The three brothers came over to watch her pull forth the blades and examine them.  Although each of us were very different in our own ways, the one thing we could agree on is bladecraft, Mikisai and I being passable swordsmiths in our own right, taking after our father's trade.  Each were single edged slashing weapons, with a slight taper to the blade over their three foot length.  In the East, these weapons were called the Katana, but here they were simply known as Hanzo Swords.  I liked their new name better personally.  It became apparent that Geniven knew her business, and that she knew we knew she knew her business.  She pointed out details only the most experienced bladesman would know, mostly to prove to a bunch of cocky teenagers they didn't have a monopoly on knowledge of the blade I suspect, but who knows.

After some time, she stood and resheathed the blade in one clean, efficient motion obviously born of long practice, returning the weapon and scabbard to lay with its brothers, she turned towards us and smiled brilliantly before saying "I see all is in order, and indeed up to the impeccable standards set by Master Hanzo himself.  It is a rare pleasure to..."


Her words were cut off at the tinkle of the small bell of the front door as it opened.  Belaron was already standing behind the door, one hand on the pommel of his curved elven blade.  One side of Mikisai's face twitched as he stood rock still, frame tensed for a moment.  Then the oddest thing happened.  A small keg of beer rolled itself into the store.  I blinked several times until I saw the diminutive form of the halfling behind it, expertly maneuvering it into place.  She looked up and grinned with an infectious smile, and I found myself grinning back at her.

Cyllra Brewer

"Right on time as always Cillyra!  I do so hope that is the keg of Good Stuff I had asked for?" Geniven asked the newcomer.  I distractedly noticed Belaron standing back at ease, although is eyes were still moving.

"Never keep a thirsty customer waiting, my father always said" the halfling said before giving a wink and continuing, "especially a paying customer!"


Geniven laughed and went around the counter and brought forth two small coin purses, tossing one to our new friend and one to my brother Belaron.  Both caught them in mid air with dextrous ease, and noticed the other for the first time as someone perhaps more than your usual passerby.  "You are in luck.  I had been hoping to speak with you four, and this is just the excuse to do so."  I personally was thrilled at the prospect, but my two brothers looked a little more wary.  Cillyra simply looked inquisitive.

"Oh, nothing sinister, I assure you.  I just wanted to buy you a pint or three as a thank you gift, and perhaps pick your brain for a bit about some things I have been thinking upon as of late."  She flashed her dazzling smile once more as she leaned forward imploringly, "Anyone game?  I just so happen to own the nearby inn, The Golden Flower.  Would you care to accompany me there now that our business has been seen to?"


A chorus of "Aye!" met her, and we found ourselves stepping out of the shoppe and back into the hot dusty street.  I saw Cyllra's wagon nearby, with the carving Brewer's Best on the back, but most of my attention was focused on watching Geniven walk, no saunter really, in front of us as she lead us a short distance down the street.  Personally, I was ready to follow her into the depths of Tartarus, as long as I got to follow behind her as I did so!

Moments later we strode inside the darkened, cozy confines of The Golden Flower and walked into our Destiny...

The Golden Flower...

Humble Beginnings...

The City of Thuran, circa 3,458

The sages said the year was numbered three thousand four hundred and fifty eight, but the peoples of Thuran called it 'The Year of Stone'.  The city hummed with industry as the Stone Festival was prepared for, vendors in their stalls calling out their wares to passerbys, carts wagons and pedestrians jockeying for space on the cobbled streets.  The smell of spiced wine, roast pheasant and ritual incense pervaded the city, barely covering the underlying rank scent that marked all modern cities.  Children wound their way through frustrated adults legs and chased the odd mongrel dog, beggars held their bowls aloft from their piteous corners of the street.

In short, it was just like every other day in town, excepting that this day would mark the beginning of the end.  The end of my innocence and the way that things had used to be.  I think back now and try to keep the image of the city as I used to know it in mind, but it get's harder with every passing year, like a  pleasant dream slipping through ones fingers after waking to the cold harshness of reality.  Perhaps too much blood has been spilled since then.  Perhaps not enough.

I pulled at my loose tunic and undid the top leather lacing in a vain attempt to cool off some.  The late summer heat was oppressive deep in the city, the dust thrown up by the passing carts settling on the sweat and refusing to leave.  I quirked a grin as I caught the eye of a passing flower vendor, the girl had to be all of sixteen, but she had curves to admire.  I let the smile in my eye reach my lips as I nodded in passing.  Tempted as I was to stop and dally with her, perhaps purchase a few of her wares and sample the taste of her lips, I had an appointment to keep.  Specifically my father, the venerable and honorable Hanzo Tenzen would not approve of tardiness after all.  And by not approve I mean whip our backsides within an inch of our lives.  Still, father was a good man, and I shared a passion for the black powder and the use of firearms with him that none other in family enjoyed.  It gave us a special bond, but I did not fool myself into thinking I was above his rules, not for a second.

Mikisai Tenzen...

My brother Mikisai scowled next to me and muttered, "Hurry Tetsuo.  We've no time for your foolishness at present."  His long black hair covered most of his face and hung in his eyes.  It's not that he was unattractive per se, we both shared the same mother with her alien elven beauty, it was simply that he radiated pissy negative energy most of the time.  As if reading my thoughts, he huffed and pushed through the crowd without looking back, expecting me to follow.

Which, of course, I did.  Being the youngest of three brothers meant a constant battle for respect, and the fact that I liked to play the the lute and shamisen and sing in my spare time did not help matters in the slightest, nor my apparent good fortune when it came to members of the opposite sex.  Still, he had a point, and I hurried to catch up.

The Tenzen Crafthouse sat in the heart of the Merchant's District, near a cooper, a farrier, and a small counting house.  It wasn't large by any stretch of the imagination, but neither was it small.  It had a small forge and workshop on one side of it's small walled courtyard, that you could just see from the street through it's traditional circular entrance in the low wall.  Well, traditional for the land of my father, far across the Endless Sea to the East.  Still, a quite respectable dwelling and place of business, as is befitting a family of our stature.  My father and mother had arrived in this town some thirty years ago or so, fleeing from the disaster that slew my mother's original husband, and my half-brother Belaron's father.

Speaking of my half brother, I saw him now as I followed Mikisai into the inner courtyard of the Crafthouse.  He stood upon the steps of the house, travel clothes still dusty from his recent return to the city.  His long golden hair was pulled back from his face, his curved tapered ears clearly visible.  As a full elf, he was older than Mikisai and I put together, but looked to be about the same age.  He wore subdued garb, practical in nature, and had his father's elegant curved elven blade strapped to his back, as always.

"A moment longer, and you would have been late" he said, his voice pitched low so it wouldn't carry.

Mikisai scowled at him and then shrugged, hitching his finger over his shoulder to indicate me, as if it was somehow my fault, of all things!  Belaron's gaze flicked from Mikisai to me, and I felt him sizing me up.  He had been on the road for almost over half a year this time, hired on as mercenary protection for one of the larger caravans doing trade with the neighboring kingdom of Versai.  I'd never admit it to his face, but I was envious of my older brother and his adventures.  He had seen so many places I had only read about or heard tale of in a song.  His eyes flicked to the katana I wore at my side, a twin to that of Mikisai's, and the pistol worn on the opposite hip, a weapon entirely my own.  He grunted in acknowledgment that I had grown up a bit in his all too frequent absence, and then turned just in time as father walked out from the workshop.

Father, the honorable Hanzo Tenzen

 Hanzo Tenzen stood a little over five foot eight, but his proud frame had become bent by age over the years.  His hair was shock white, and ran to his waist, much like his beard.  There was nothing wrong with his wits though, and he shrewdly took in his three sons before him, the natural and adopted ones both.

When he spoke, his voice held iron in it, and still was strong with life and energy.  "Children, now grown to manhood.  I have a task for you."  Seeing Belaron's frown at the statement, Hanzo raised an eyebrow and addressed him as well, "Yes, you too Belaron.  We may be almost of an age, but I still count you my son.  It was your father's dying wish, and I would not do disservice to my old friend's memory to do anything less."


Seemingly mollified, Belaron nodded back.  Father turned back to the three of us as a whole and continued, "I have a package that needs delivering, and I have three strong young men who need something to do.  I believe I have found a solution to both of these problems."    We all groaned.  Father always spoke in ways such as this, seeming to turn ordinary chores into some kind of epic parable or lesson from the great stories of the ancients.  As much as it annoyed me, I have to admit it also set me on the path towards learning all of those ancient stories, and attempting to recite them as often as not.

Father pulled forth two bundles, one clearly three swords in their sheaths, wrapped in protective cloth to keep them pristine, the other bundle a medium sized box far heavier than it looked.  "I need you to take these to The Golden Flower.  I believe you are familiar with the owner, Geniven?"


So much for my plans for the day...