Shattered Realm

When the last independent Kingdom of Nanda was subjugated by the New Empire of Kawajiho, many across the realm finally felt at ease. After nearly three centuries of perpetual war, the continent of Perdenes West of the vast Shapotou Mountains was… at last, once more under one unified rule. Once more an empress sat on the Chrysanthemum Throne. Once more, millions of lives and generations to come will know the value of a peaceful life unlike the lives of those that came before. The fall of Nanda’s capitol Vunsonhoa signaled the curtains dropping—the end of an era—and with it the beginning of a golden era for Perdenes.

Or at least, it was suppose to be the end of an era. There were skeptical folk of course. Like many others I was, and continue to be skeptical of future affairs. Although the flames of war —this war— has been wavered, there will always more desire to kindle the flames once more. More steel to thrust into flesh, more sons and fathers and entire generations to go through conflict without end.

For the countless thousands, it is all they know. There is no peace to be found in the lands of Perdenes. War is ingrained into our culture—and it always has been. They say that when the Northern Sea people invaded thousands of year ago the only export they brought with them is war.

And yet, several months after the fall of Nanda, against all skeptical odds; there was peace. Counties racked by devastation of marauding war-bands slowly became prosperous again. No longer did I have to wander aimless through lonely roads of major cities through Kawajiho. People came out of their homes; windows were no longer shut. People did not shield their children from passing strangers.

Raods as far as the coast of Xinjiang county to the cold desert city of Tanlonmot were filled with bustling caravans. Trade was thriving. Back then, I thought to myself… could this mean the beginning of a golden age? Could I sleep soundly at night, and peacefully die of old age watching my grandchildren live in a world were they know not of the horrors of war?

Back then, I was naive. Or rather, reality was harsh. There is an old saying that reality is a cruel mistress, but it was often said by neysayers in my mercenary company. I was always dismissive of them despite their pessimistic attitude. Despite their overall characters, they were strong warriors—men and women that I served side by side as companions for several years in this devastated realm.

Returning to civilian life was difficult. When all you know is war, it is not an easy task. Mundane jobs such as farm labor was not for me—despite the upstart trend of a rejuvenated economy thanks to various charters by Empress Yuan, the trickle down by her efforts were in vain. Me and my former mercenary comrades, since released from our contract to the Empire, drifted throughout the country in search of new prospects. Many towns were bustling with new hires, and the villages were far less forgiving—as one may expect, when those very same villages were the ones you had terrorized throughout the years.

Empress Yuan’s domain was not always all encompassing. When I entered her service some six years ago, it was still faced by all sides by hostile factions clamoring for the unification of Perdenes. Back then, there was little regard for anything—you lived in the moment and did not have time to think about future consequences down the road. Back then, you either lived long enough to be killed by the children whose parents you slain, or you were filled like a pin cushion by steel-tipped arrows. And so my mercenary company killed and looted to survive, but in lull moments of rare peace between waring kingdoms, we enjoyed some busywork in hunting roaming bandits in the domain of Empress Yuan.

Because of these actions it was easier to find work with settlements that did appreciate us—the ones that we did not threaten to burn down in times of war. But it was never enough. We were often paid with bread or whatever harvest they left over. But it wasn’t enough to make a living.

Eventually, I decided to start up a enterprise, using what funds my men and I had, we secured a wood workshop that had recently went down under at the city of TInhou. And for a while, it was successful; the age of warfare might be over, but the needs to supply and maintain the peace will never end.

But still, I wanted more. We built weapons and gear… but I wanted war. I wanted to use those weapons in life or death combat. I wanted to shed blood once more and hear the screams of my enemy. But… I wanted the days of warfare to be behind me. I wanted to settle down on the land and start a new family. But the urge for war was far too great.

“You want to sail to the Northern lands?” One of my sergeants, Gorou, looks at me in shock. “The high seas are unforgiving, Junko, and many who cross are never heard of again! I beg you to reconsider this reckless endeavor.”

“And just how many battles have we charged into and survived, Gorou? How many forlorn hopes have we dived into and lived to tell the tale?” I reply back sharply, “I will not force you to go. If you wish to stay, then that is your decision. I will see who will go with me and sail for a greater world. I will export warfare back to the lands of the Northerners, rather you are with me or without.”

Defeated, Gorou can’t help but deflate with a frustrated sigh. “I will gather all the men around the city and meet you on the outskirts of the city.” And with that, Gorou departs.

I would much rather voyage on the harsh seas and die trying then sit around and rot away doing nothing. Despite the stubbornness to hold down a stable job, there just is no thrill to be had with making coin in an hands-off matter. I want action.

To my surprise, almost the entirely of my company was with Gorou after I arrived in the outskirts of Tinhou. “You got your wish, Junko. I didn’t need to finish my sentence to let them know of your endeavor. It seems I am in the complete minority when it comes to objection.” A score of laughter from the crowd when he bitterly finishes.

“Is that true, Gorou? Do you truly intend to live the rest of your life like a bored hog? If I remember correctly, were it not you who was most often left blood thirsty after the end of a battle?” The crowd roars with agreement and laughter. Gorou grimaces as some give him rough pats on the back. “Have you secured selling off the woodworks, Gorou? I care not for it anymore. We need the investment back to procure weapons and boats.”

Gorou offers me a nod. “Yes m’lady. It was handled without issue,” grom his cloak he holds up a wooly bag that produces jingle sounds when he gives it a shake, “there is certainly more than enough to last us the trek to the northern coast, and even more to entice men to join us on this suicidal journey.”

“Very well, let us get a move on.”

And so, the Order of the Wulf set out as nightfall began.

We had hardly reached the city of Kikinhoi when several men on horseback approached us at our temporary camp. Several of my seasoned archers quickly took to their bows and lightly tugged at the strings. But something looked off about our guests—they were certainly not guests…

“Hold your fire! It seems they want to talk.” I hold up a arm while barking the order. The uninvited guests had stopped a few yards from us and were approaching us on foot—weapons still sheathed. Couldthey be Imperial messengers?

“Hail! We are from sent by the archduke of Xinjiang. He wishes to give you this message.” The archduke? I do not know what he would want from me nowadays. If this were for a crime I have committed in the county years ago I would be face-down with several mortal cuts by now. Instead, the leading man, lightly unarmored but flanked by two heavy cavaliers extends his arm with a tied scroll. I take it from him, cautiously, and chip away at the seal to pry the scroll open. And when I finally tear off the seal I scan the contents of the cryptic alphabet slowly.

After a couple minutes I roll up the scroll and turn around to face my men. “Gorou!” I call out to him from the crowd and he makes his way to the front, puzzled. Without saying a word, I gesture for him to take the scroll from me and read it for himself. Amid curious eyes, he takes big steps toward us and takes the scroll from men, and after giving the Imperial messengers one glance he proceeds to give it a review.

Gorou clears his throat. “At the behest of Her Sovereignty, Ruler of the Realm, Protector of the Perdensi People, and Overseer of the Occupation of the former Nanda Kingdom, Empress Yuan I has expressed interest to enlist the services of Junko and her Order of the Wulf in a campaign against the Maui people, who have rallied under a Nanda pretender king who proclaims himself without legitimacy as Bao I. Empress Yuan has formally recognized your exploits during her struggles in the reunification of the realm and wishes to have your support in this new insurrection of the rebel county. If you wish to comply, and you are free to decline, then join up with the assembling army on the route to Kiwan for further orders.” After Gorou finishes, he folds up the scroll and places it in a pouch.

I feel like I should be in shock. But when you consider the history of this part of Perdenes it’s not too surprising. the Maui people are not actually native to Perdenes. Their ancestors, the Northern sea invaders, landed in what is now the Thaisonia Country and fiercely resisted the First Kawajiho Empire centuries before it’s collapse. They have long since settled in and called this land their own. Is this, too, part of the vicious cycle of war? I can’t help but scoff, and Gorou and the Imperial messengers look at me questioningly. But who am I to question rather or not this pretender King Bao does? If he is willing to fill the rivers and lakes of Perdenes with blood once more, then I am more than happy to comply with his dance of death. If I survive this last hurrah…

I look towards the dark clear sky. If the fighting ends—if it truly ends, then there is just one less reason to live in a society where where warriors like me cannot intergrate in. “Your answer, Junko of the Ironwulf order?” The center messanger asks. I turn to face him, with a crooked grin.

“Men?” I tilt my head slightly to the side. “Do we go to war, one last time?” There is silence at first, then a chorus of thunderous hurrah. The guard looks a little timid, but we make eye contact again. “Yes. I believe you have your answer. The Order of the Wulf will join up with Her Majesty Yuan I!”

King Bao I must be a formidable foe. Despite what the contents of the scroll said otherwise, they say the entirely of the Thaisonia peninsula submitted to his rule. Untold hundreds of thousands of men flocked to his banner at Vunsonhoa—this must’ve been a ploy months in the making, ever since his former liege bent the knee to Empress Yuan I. And speaking of the former Nanda king

Reports from scout parties say that the former Nanda king put up a brave last stance near the border city of Abermorloch, just a few days prior our arrival at Empress Yuan’s assembling host at Kiwan. I was shocked to hear that once he was defeated, King Bao I did not spare him, as it was seen ruthless to be a kingslayer despite these times of turmoil. No…

Some in the camp say that, according to eye wetnesses, King Bao I personally executed the meager old man by beheading. Afterwards, they say the corpse was preserved in a barrel and crted south to Vunsonhoa, where it is displayed on the outer walls of the castle. A poor taste if I say so myself, but in the end they are flimsy reports at best. It is something that you would have to see for yourself.

The rather speedy assembly of the army host is impressive. When I joined there were already hundreds of infantry and archer companies. Over the next few days there was a influx of cavalry and supply wagons in tow. “The empress is not taking this rebellion as a joke, is she?” I say offhandedly to a imperial infantry sergeant.

“Yes, I suppose that is correct. Our lord gave us swift orders to march here from Lewiwantau—and that was only a couple days ago. I think this is the most cavalry I’ve seen in one place since the subjugation of the Yasuzawa Khanate a few years ago.” The sergeant is cleaning the blade of his short-sword in a idle manner, but then he stops to think. “Let’s see…hm…”

“Is something on your mind, sergeant?” I say before unplugging my leather skin canteen then take a few refreshing gulps of water from it, before plugging it and letting it drop to my hip. The infantry sergeant rubs his vast goatee that pokes out from the openings in his mail chain.

“I was just thinking about how long I have been in service of my lord. I think the campaign in Xinjiang makes it about seven years now. When I was conscripted when my lord was part of the retreat from Gonhuiko… let’s see… I suppose I was about just shy of my eighteenth birthday?” He utters to the stares quizzically. “I’ve seen a lot of the men under me die like droves in countless charges, cut down by pursuing horsemen… picked off by skirmishers… impaled by javelins they never saw coming. I feel like I’ve seen it all.” The sergeant resumes cleaning his blade slowly. “There are times I want to run away. There were times where I just wanted to see my family again at Gonhuiko. There were times when the nightmares makes me just want to…” The last ones he trails off, “—but deep down I had to fight. I had to fight so that when I start over I can ensure future generations do not have to fight. If I did not continue to fight then what would it all be for?”

So there were others that shared my sentiment.“And what happened when the fighting did stop—when the Nanda Kingdom was vassalized and peace was restored?… What did you do then?” I ask curiously, maybe a bit inappropriately, but curious nonetheless. He stops cleaning his blade again; and rests the sword against his leg. The sergeant looks a bit sorrowful.

“When I came back home… when I came home to a place that I no longer recognized, there was no family waiting for me. There were no celebrations or great feasts awaiting us. The men that were pressed into service alongside me—the men who I relayed the orders to charge against enemy lines time again—my brothers who stood arm and arm with me… we were treated like extra mouths to feed. We have been trained and drilled for our adult life and when the time came to be disbanded our lord did nothing to compensate us.”

“And yet, when the time came again, you answered your lord’s call?” I ask the sergeant who rests hunched over, hands clamped over the hilt. He looks into the distance then looks at me.

“When I heard that the pretender king rose up in rebellion… I was relieved, to say the least. In fact I was excited to be able to fight again. I have no other choice—I spent my life killing others, and gathered a hell of a expertise doing it, so I am going to answer it with nothing else to lose. If I win, if I die—it matters not. I’m happy to have brought an end to these wars of reunification—but after everything is said done, the horns of war is nothing I can so easily give up on… say,” he gives me a squint, “your Guantzu accent is something else—it kind of has a a Ulusian accent to it. Do you not hail from the lands of Perdenes?”

I never knew my accent was that noticable, no one else before has ever pointed that out to me. “From what I remember my family originated East of the Shapotou Mountains. I remember they came here years ago through the Buyenh valley. I believe I was only a couple years younger you… no more than sixteen at the most, when I entered Her Majesty’s service as a mercenary. That was about six or seven years ago I believe.”

“I see… and what is your name, if I may ask?” He inquires, and I can’t help but crack a smile.

“I am Junko of the Order of the Wolf, and yours?”

“I am Jun. Sergeant Jun Taro of the Xinjiang Regiment, 4th company.”And with that we shook hands. Not long after in the distance we could make out the horns of war.