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...