Slowly opening the bottle in his hand, Seijuurou watched the tiny points of light brighten in the deepening blue-black beyond the edge of the roof. The space between the latter and the tops of the trees that hemmed his property was narrow, but what he could see was as satisfying as if the entire sky were open to his view. Parts of some constellations were already visible, and only becoming sharper.
After settling where and how his guests were to sleep, he’d come out for some quiet thought to his usual spot before the light had entirely faded; now he sat on the bench among the shelves in near-complete darkness. Early autumn evenings were always pleasantly warm, especially in this fine weather, even in the shadows, and it might be a while before he went back inside; but, then, it might have been a while before he went back inside even if it had been dead winter or a rainstorm. His clarity of thought was not dependent on any particular circumstance, but there was no shame in wanting to enjoy his angiruou in peace.
And the stars reminded him…
There were some things that just didn’t change — not in twenty-three years, nor, he thought, forever. Fortunately, one of those was the taste of alcohol and its effect on melancholy memories. He smiled faintly as he took and savored a long drink, tracing nonexistent lines between the stars just as he had back then, and remembering the remarks that had been made at that point.
Unfortunately, the remarks that had been made this evening were more present and of greater concern to him at the moment, less interesting though they were. Kenshin was in trouble again, and Seijuurou couldn’t help feeling a sort of vaguely paternal interest in Kenshin’s welfare. He’d given the king the warnings he had, back when they’d parted after nearly seven years of training, to guard against just such a circumstance. Kenshin, however, had too high an opinion of his own mental and moral resources to think much of the advice of others. Admittedly he always meant well… he just didn’t always choose well.
Such a man could do nothing better, if he was indeed bent on trying to rule a country, than to surround himself with equally well-meaning but more clear-headed people whose influence, if not overt, would still be significant. He could undoubtedly have benefited from Seijuurou’s presence in the capital long before this… but Seijuurou did not fancy living in Elotica and dealing with people in Elotica and being constantly reminded of his younger days in Elotica. And as for uprooting at a moment’s notice to run off to Elotica and rescue Kenshin from what might after all turn out to be a very transient threat…
That single-minded knight seemed effective enough for the purpose, at any rate, and, if Sano’s assessment of the little boy’s power was accurate, the child would be helpful too. As for Sano himself… Well, Sano was fairly good at filling Seijuurou’s shopping list every week… and at sex… and presumably at picking apples and oranges and whatnot… but at keonmastery he was still a near-complete failure, almost in proportion to his desire not to be. And then there was his propensity to champion unpopular attitudes as brazenly as possible…
Until he got over his heretic phase, Sano was likely to find most people even more ready than the inhabitants of Eloma to ostracize him or worse, because the general populace wasn’t capable of leaving well enough alone and allowing someone to believe stupid things in peace. Of course, there were multiple sides to every issue; if Seijuurou knew Sano at all, the latter had gone charging into that town attacking the guards without any strategy or even thought, giving the villagers little choice but to turn him out or appear antagonistic toward the new regime… the whole thing was undoubtedly a mess.
Still, a mess didn’t seem a good enough reason to hasten from home. Indeed, the result of Sano’s poor planning (and, hypothetical though his theory was, Seijuurou didn’t doubt that was what had taken place) was an even greater recommendation for rational forethought.
Just then Seijuurou looked around, broken from his thoughts. What sounded like a party of horsemen was approaching up the road. He couldn’t see them yet, but the noise of hooves and tack and muted voices was already audible. With the educated guess that this must be the guards defeated by the little boy earlier, he sat back, continuing to sip at his liquor, and waited calmly.
The glow of a lantern through the trees was the first visible sign of their approach, and eventually its light broke onto the clearing in which Seijuurou’s house stood and showed select details of the group behind the man that held it. The usurper, Seijuurou noted, had at least managed to get his followers looking like real knights; in the swaying light, their white-clad torsos seemed to float disembodied over their black trousers and boots, and the symbol of Gontamei was green on each chest. He wondered whether that prince had actually knighted them all or simply dressed them up for the occasion.
They’d certainly taken their time finding the place; Sano had come back from the village hours ago, and he’d been on foot. Given the bandages most of these men were wearing, they’d evidently had concerns other than following immediately, but still Seijuurou couldn’t think they took their mission terribly seriously. Though perhaps the supposed miracle had genuinely frightened them.
Two could ride abreast on the narrower way up the mountain from the crossroads, and now only the first couple of pairs filed off the road onto Seijuurou’s property before they all reined up. Seijuurou could sense, however, that there were ten or more of them all told, and wondered for the first time just how important this Hajime knight was (or was thought to be) down at the palace.
The newcomers looked around at the house, the kiln, and at Seijuurou himself in a mixture of anger and wariness. It was a mark of some sort of decent training that they saw him at all in the darkness under the roof, but his general impression of their abilities wasn’t terribly favorable. Finally one — in the forefront, but not the man with the lantern — rode forward a pace and addressed Seijuurou without dismounting: “Good evening, master!” His tone, however, was not nearly as polite as his words.
“Evening,” Seijuurou replied.
The man didn’t waste time. “We’re looking for some people. Have you seen either a royal knight in the Barenor’mei dress or a young man in red with brown hair?”
“They’re both inside,” Seijuurou confirmed with a gesture.
Either the frankness of the answer startled the stranger, or the latter hadn’t really been expecting to find what they were looking for here. It seemed to take him a moment of blank staring, after his initial start, to grasp the meaning of what Seijuurou had said. Then he dismounted, gesturing at the lantern-bearer beside him, and moved forward, hand on hilt.
“You haven’t had enough fighting today?” wondered Seijuurou mildly. “With that injury to your sword-arm, I doubt you can hold your weapon up for very long.”
Looking sourly at him, “That’s beside the point,” the leader said. It seemed evident he would much rather reply that, yes, they had — and possibly that, no, he couldn’t. “They’re wanted criminals, and we have a duty to do.”
“How patriotic of you,” Seijuurou replied, stoppering his bottle and setting it down beside him on the bench. “Our new king must be a generous man. But, no–” and here, leisurely, he finally stood– “I meant, haven’t the eleven of you had enough of getting beaten within an inch of your lives by a single person today?” And in a movement very much like a stretch, he took one of the swords that hung from hooks on the wall and slowly drew it.
The group shifted, clearly nervous. Ordinarily such a seemingly foolhardy challenge would be met with skepticism at the very least; that here it was not seemed to confirm Sano’s story about the fight in the village. Finally the leader asked in a tellingly shrill attempt at bravado, “Are you in league with that demon child?”
“I don’t know any demon child,” Seijuurou replied, “but I have heard about your defeat earlier. It’s going to be embarrassing enough, I think, reporting that to that king of yours; a second defeat in the same day may mean the end of your careers. But that’s up to you, of course.” He raised his sword slightly into the earliest suggestion of a combative position, his overall demeanor still relatively casual.
The guards shifted further, looking indecisively at each other in the uneasy lantern-light.
Not long after, Seijuurou was again seated on his bench, alone, sipping angiruou and watching the stars. No, he really couldn’t take this great threat to the kingdom terribly seriously.
Imau (an original character) is Kenshin’s mother and the former queen of Akomera.