The Drowning Empire, Episode 50: Shogun Wedding

The Drowning Empire is a weekly serial based on the events which occured during the Writer Nerd Game Night monthly Legend of the Five Rings game. It is a tale of samurai adventure set in the magical world of Rokugan.

If you would like to read all of these in one convenient place, along with a bunch of additional game related stuff, behind the scenes info, and detailed session recaps, I’ve been posting everything to one thread on the L5R forum, http://www.alderac.com/forum/viewtopic.php?f=295&t=101206

This week’s episode was written by Zach Hill, who is playing our gullible yet honorable farmer samurai, Suzume Shintaro.

Continued from: https://monsterhunternation.com/2014/03/21/the-drowning-empire-episode-49-the-hunt-is-on/

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Yuki tapped on the door and then slid it open with her free hand. The other hand carried a tray of tea. Shintaro was at his writing desk. Whatever he was writing had to be important because he didn’t notice her enter. He was bent over and writing faster than she had seen anyone write.

“Shintaro? Tea’s ready.”

He looked up at her without a pause in his writing.

She padded over and placed the tea to the side of his black writing desk.

“They didn’t have any of those spicey rice balls you like. What are you writing that’s more interesting than me?”

“A poem to the most honorable samurai of our generation.”

“Toranaka?”

“Uso.”

Even hearing his name made the room feel colder. Uso. He was not honorable. He used honor the same way a chicken farmer used chickens to feed his family.

“And why is he the most honorable?”

“It was amazing, Yuki. His swordsmanship is the best I’ve seen. He was dueling a yojimbo that was so outclassed it would have been comical if it were in a play. But he spared her. He could have killed her in one stroke, but instead he disarmed her before she could finish drawing her sword. I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”

“You admire him?”

“Indeed. I admire all of my companions. Each one has a trait that I find lacking in myself.”

“True, you don’t drink nearly as well as Oki.”

“I was thinking more about his archery.”

“And you can’t throw rocks around like they were paper.”

“I was thinking more about his courage and willingness to face danger, regardless if it be a horde of bandits or his own fears.”

“And your horse isn’t nearly powerful as Subotai’s.”

“You win. I definitely wish I had a horse like that.”

He smiled and pulled her into his side.

Shintaro was laughing, but she wasn’t. He still trusted Uso. But there was nothing she could do. If she attempted to watch him he’d spot her before she even saw him. She couldn’t hide in the shadows from someone who lived his entire life in them. All that would accomplish was gaining his attention and right now her only defense was remaining out of his sight.

“I heard about Toranaka and Utaku. Did he really propose a marriage in front of everyone?”

“In a way, yes.”

It was much too early to mention marriage around Shintaro and she wasn’t sure she wanted to dwell on her chances. She had learned early to never give her hopes any ground. They always failed her.

“Are they lovers?” She asked.

“I do not know, but I do know that Subotai is getting along very well with his fiancé.”

“And by ‘very well’ do you mean how we get on very well?”

“A similar manner, I’d imagine, though probably without nearly as much noise.”

“I am not that loud.”

“I believe they heard you back in Broken Wave City.”

“When are they getting married? If they don’t hurry she might find herself in a compromising position. No one wants to get married while showing.”

“Back on Sparrow lands,” he started to say. She never knew if she should fear or prepare to stifle a laugh whenever he started a sentence like that. “When a woman finds herself in an embarrassing situation and is forced to marry, we call that a “Shogun Wedding.” It comes from Shogun Ichi Nioshi back in 378. He got the Emperor’s daughter pregnant and was forced to marry her the next day.”

“So, you fear Subotai might be forced into a Shogun Wedding?”

“I’m not sure that’s a bad thing at this point.”

Over the past few weeks she had paid particular attention to his descriptions of Sparrow lands. It wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for a Sparrow samurai to marry a peasant.

She hated thinking about that. That was too high a target for her. She had to think about what was possible. His consort or mistress would be far more likely. She wouldn’t complain about that at all. Even that was far more than she had ever had.

 

*

 

Shintaro watched as Doji Shunya said his good byes. More accurately, he stood there impassibly while others bid him farewell. Shintaro couldn’t let the duelist go without saying his mind.

“Doji Shunya, I wish you well on your journey. I found you a most honorable samurai and even though you wish to kill my friend, Subotai, I would travel with you any time.”

Shunya looked around as if lost for words. Shintaro’s power of speech often had that affect on people. There were many a time that he had brought a whole room full of conversation to a stand still.

Shintaro’s power was with his bisento, but in second place was his power with words.

Now it was his duty to give Toranaka advice on how to keep the interest of a certain young Unicorn battle maiden. If there was one thing he knew as much about aside from fighting and words, it was people. He made a careful study of people and knew human nature as if it were a familiar scroll.

 

*

 

Clouds illuminated by an unnatural green light swirled over the village. His heart was still pounding from the battle with the cultists on the road, but it wasn’t nearly enough to get his battle vigor going. He needed more. His blade was still thirsty.

Killing unnecessarily or without just cause was horrible and Shintaro feared becoming a butcher as much as he feared losing honor, but this was a righteous cause. These animals were killing peasants and Shintaro could not abide that. Not at all. He despised people that abused the weak. That was the entire purpose of being a samurai; helping others. First his emperor, then his lord and then the innocent. Whoever it may be, Shintaro’s duty was to serve them like a true samurai.

And these men, whoever they were, would receive no pity from Shintaro. Unfortunately, many samurai would never die for a peasant. Shintaro would.

There was one peasant in particular that he would most certainly die for. And it so happened that she was also an amazing cook. That was wasabi on top of the sushi.

As they rode closer to the darkened village he saw many of the Unicorn scouts in combat with giant ogre. These creatures carried enormous blades and wore heavy armor of a kind he had never seen before.

The scout leader ran up to their group and pointed toward the direction of the village center.

“Stop the ceremony!”

Shintaro looked and saw more of the cultists. Some were towering over huddled peasants, a sight that made ‘Water Dragon’ thirsty for more blood. Other cultists were standing on a mound and chanting in an unfamiliar language. Orbs of moving water hovered in front of the cultists. It was some kind of water magic and that wasn’t good.

He gripped the haft of his bisento and charged forward on his mighty steed.

And promptly came to a creek bed that was too steep and deep to take his horse over. As he dismounted he saw a blur fly by him. He turned in time to see Subotai leap his horse over the creek and land on the other side. Shintaro had never seen a feat of horsemanship like that in his life. He would have to put that in the official history of this expedition…which he couldn’t write about yet because everything was a secret. If he managed to survive all of this, he would have to put this part in.

He scrambled to the other side and charged the mound where the cultists were performing their sickening ceremony. He wanted to go rescue the peasants but he was slow and there was a threat right in front of his face. He had to deal with the problems one step at a time. That was what his father had taught him.

The father whom he would probably behead to satisfy his clan’s honor.

Or was it his own desire?

Oki began hammering arrows into the cultists that were killing peasants while Subotai charged with his horse.

These were the pathetic peasant cultists they had fought earlier. These men had sharp knives and whips and knew the art of battle very well. Whoever they were, they were no cowards. Their masks were black and orange like tigers and whatever they were doing the swirling green clouds were centered right above them.

He swung at one of the cultists and knocked him down, but the wound was slight. They had armor under their robes. Very well. He would just hit harder.

Suddenly the chanting grew in intensity to an inhuman level and just as suddenly broke off. Shintaro blocked an attack by a cultist’s whip and kicked the man off the mound. One of the peasants dropped to the ground with a slit throat. The cultist off to the right raised his bloody knife and made some kind of gesture with his free hand.

The faces of the tied up peasants showed wild, searching eyes. They were practically begging for him to save them and he was failing them. He would not let any more down.

Something was breathing behind him. Something very big and loud. It smelled of rotting meat and decayed fields. Shintaro turned and looked up at one of the ogre creatures standing where the orb of water had been. Mist was coming off its dark hide and its angry, red eyes looked down at him with unmistakable rage. Where had that thing come from?

Cultist magic. He really hated cultists.

He didn’t pause even to let out a war cry. He swung at the beast with everything he had. He caught the ogre in the side and water gushed out the wound.

The ogre roared and swung its tree sized sword at their group. He felt the wind from the swing brush his face and after realizing he was still alive, swung again. Everyone was hacking away at the monster and soon it was on its knees, bleeding water out of its many wounds.

More cultists were charging forward. Many of his comrades were wounded and he didn’t know if they could face these madmen. So he placed himself in front and took the brunt of their attack.

Between Oki’s arrows, Usai’s hurling rocks and everyone else’s blades, they slaughtered the remaining cultists.

He was breathing hard and searching the nearby huts and woods for any sign of movement. The battle behind them had died along with the ogres.

 

*

 

“And then what happened, Shintaro?” Yuki asked.

“Some Crab samurai showed up. I told them epic story of our struggle and they seemed satisfied. We met our friends from the Jolly Crab and I think Oki bought the brewery.”

“Bought the brewery? The one you where you beat up that one armed guy?”

“That’s the one.”

“Is that wise?”

“What do you mean?

“Oki might drink up the profits.”

“Even he can’t drink that much.”

“But he does have friends.”

Yuki sat back on her knees and poured more tea for them. This Unicorn tea was different than anything she had had before, but it was good. She’d have to get the recipe.

Shintaro talked about his battle against magical cultists with the skill of a story teller but also the calmness of a monk. How did he face down such horrors and not come out shaken? He seemed just as content about life as ever.

She was good at appearing unconcerned, but that was from a lifetime of practice. Shintaro simply wasn’t hiding anything.

“Enough of ogres and cultists. I have a book I think you might like.”

“A book?”

“Yes. A philosopher monk wrote it five hundred years ago.”

“Philosophy?” She’d heard the term before but never understood the purpose. “We had a philosopher back at the docks. He served the noon time meal.”

“Read it and then tell me what you think.”

He handed the scroll over and she took it while looking at his face. Was this one of his jokes? But his face showed sincerity. He wanted her to read some ancient scroll.

Gullible? Yes. Naïve? Absolutely. Stupid? Not one bit. The man was almost bursting with knowledge. Whatever faults Shintaro had, ignorance and lack of education were not among them. Sometimes she was amazed at how much information was stored in that man’s head.

So, her education began.

To be continued next week: https://monsterhunternation.com/2014/04/11/the-drowning-empire-episode-51-tentos-tale/

 

Last minute Hugo slate thoughts

I still haven’t decided what to put for my last few categories.

It was pointed out to me that the MHIRPG could be considered Best Related Work. I’ve got no idea if a game book counts or not, but it is pretty awesome, and it is related, so why the heck not. So best related work Monster Hunter International Role Playing Game by Hero Games.

People have asked about my shorts and novellas, I’m not pushing any of those because I’m supporting somebody else in those categories. I just want Warbound in there to piss people off. 🙂

Paul Genesse is pushing Karen Bovenmyer’s story from Crimson Pact 5 (available in the links to the right because I’ve got a story in there). Paul edited it. It is called Failsafe. I heard that she just barely missed the Nebula ballot.

The last few days I’ve been slammed and have had a bunch of author friends contact me to suggest things. I just wish they would have sooner, so I’d have had more time to read and think about them.

My Hugo Slate

Don’t forget to nominate. The cut off is coming up fast. It doesn’t do any good to spend $40 to combat Puppy Related Sadness if you don’t nominate! 🙂

This is what I’ve got right now. I’m still thinking about some of the other categories, and I can go back and put them in still when I decide.

Best Novel

Warbound, the Grimnoir Chronicles – Larry Correia – Baen

A Few Good Men – Sarah Hoyt – Baen

Novella

The Butcher of Khardov – Dan Wells – Skull Island Expeditions

The Chaplain’s Legacy – Brad Torgersen – Analog

Novellete

The Exchange Officers – Brad Torgersen – Analog

Opera Vita Aeterna – Vox Day – The Last Witchking

Best Fanzine

Elitist Book Reviews – Steve Diamond

Graphic Story

Schlock Mercenary – Howard Tayler

Best Editor Long Form

Toni Weisskopf

Best Editor Short Form

Bryan Thomas Schmidt

Campbell Award

Marko Kloos

Frank Chadwick

 

I haven’t put anything yet for related work, dramatic presentations, or short story. Still trying to decide.

 

Tax Day Customer Service

Two things happened on Friday that are sort of related, in that they both are examples of the government pissing me off. While my wife was being treated like scum by a petty government bureaucrat, I found out what my final tax bill for 2013 was.

First, my wife needed to renew her driver’s license. The DMV requires some specific pieces of info to decide if you are worthy. It doesn’t matter that she’s had a license in Utah for 20 years. Nope. It doesn’t matter that she has a Utah Concealed Firearms Permit (because a state issued form of ID that is background checked out the wazoo DAILY totally doesn’t count). She needed a W2 (oh, you’re a stay at home mom? Too damned bad) and a Social Security card. She couldn’t find her card. It doesn’t matter that there are a dozen other ways to verify her SS number, including our taxes, our mortgage, or the aforementioned other state issued IDs, nope, you need the actual piece of paper, because regulations, and we all know that nobody has ever forged a piece of paper before.

But no big deal. The guy at the DMV was just doing his job. He was polite and professional. Sorry, no hard feelings, understandable. So my wife needed to go to the Social Security Administration to get a new card and once she could show the paper indicating she’d asked for it the DMV would issue a temporary license.

So before going to the SS Admin, the lovely Mrs. Correia decided to check to make sure she had everybody else’s SS cards in the safe. For some reason Correia 2.1’s card was missing. 2.1 is now a teenager, so it probably got pulled out for some minor function, and not put back in the file, and was floating around the house somewhere with some other paperwork. Either that or it was being used by a dozen Guatemalans working for ACORN, who knows. So off Mrs. Correia goes to the federal building to get a new card for herself and for our oldest. She takes Correia 2.4 with her, because the only thing better than standing in line at a government building, is standing in line at a government building with a 2 year old.

Meanwhile, I’m home writing another novel. I’d like to say I’m Getting Paid (as should be on all author’s mission statements) but since I’m still writing the first half, apparently that part of the novel was written entirely for the federal government, but I’ll come back to that.

So Mrs. Correia and Moose go to the federal building, where they have to go through a metal detector and a guard checkpoint, and then stand in line waiting to talk to some ladies behind bullet proof glass… Judging by how they treat people, I can understand the need for guards and the bullet proof glass, but I’m getting ahead of myself.

Those of you who have met my wife normally have the same reaction. “Why’d she marry you?” Basically, Mrs. Correia is a beautiful, charming, friendly, kind person. When she says that she was polite and nice at this point, I believe her, because that’s how she is. She’s not snooty. She’s not bitchy. And this is important, when she gets mad, she gets quiet. Not loud, that’s me. Quiet. She gets real calm and starts to plot her revenge. In 16 years of marriage I’ve never seen her shout at anybody other than me or the children, and it isn’t like that’s happened very often, which is what lets you know you done really screwed up when mom yells. She also put herself through college working crappy service jobs, and has waited tables, answered phones, been a hostess, and a restaurant cook, so her default to anybody doing a service job is always patient, because she’s been there.

So she’s in a good mood. 2.4 is in a good mood. She gets to the window. The woman, or shoggoth wearing a woman suit, I’m not entirely sure, on the other side of the thick glass doesn’t make eye contact. She keeps staring at her computer screen, mumbling something incomprehensible.

“What?”

The woman barks at her that she’s not talking to her yet. She’s talking to some of the other .gov employees. Okay, no problem. Then she mumbles something else, all without making eye contact, and then gets angry when my wife doesn’t immediately respond, because now she is being addressed. She finally looks at my wife, and gives what she described as a sneer. Oh, yes, pretty lady, you’re in my lair now.

Okay, Mrs. Correia is still patient. Because she can barely hear the woman through the glass, she assumes the woman can’t hear her, so she speaks loudly and clearly and states her business. Keep in mind, my wife isn’t a loud person. I’m the loud one. She explains that she needs a new card for her and her daughter. She presents various pieces of paperwork that show she is who she says she is.

The shoggoth says she can’t accept the driver’s license, because it is expired. My wife, who checked the website to make sure she had enough stuff before standing in line, says that expired licenses are still good for like 60 or 90 days, and this just barely expired, so it should be fine. (meanwhile, our insurance card, which we could have made up and printed and then had laminated at Kinkos? Totally legit form of ID)

And this is when it gets sideways. The lady says, I shit you not “Ma’am, you need to calm down or I’m going to call the guards and have you removed.”

What the fuck?

My wife doesn’t even have an immediate response. She’s flabbergasted. That was too out of left field. Her reaction at this point was, huh? She’s not been agitated, or angry, or even particularly loud by adult human standards or even a little upset. There is literally nothing in her demeanor that suggests she is in any way distressed, at all.

My wife says she’s not upset… And this is why I love her, says “When you call the guards, call your supervisor too.” Then she reaches into her pocket, pulls out her cell phone, and says “I’m going to record the rest of this conversation.”

Boom. That stops the talk of Guards! Seize her! And the surly minor mandarin gets back to her super complex job of pushing a couple of buttons on a keyboard. But oh no, she couldn’t just shut up and do her stupid job. She actually warns my wife that she’d better not lose any more cards, because the SS is only allowed to issue a few replacement cards over someone’s entire life, and if our kids don’t have cards, then they won’t ever be able to have jobs or licenses…

No kidding.

According to Mrs. Correia, that snide little comment was delivered with this sort of maternal, self-righteous, lecturing tone you reserve for crack heads. Why, look what a terrible mother you are. To quote my wife telling me the story, “that comment was not delivered in a helpful manner, but it was more of a, you’re a shitty mom because your kids won’t get jobs or have drivers’ licenses.”

Yes… If you lose this token from the king, then your children will starve in a ditch. Are you kidding me? My wife says she’s not worried, gets her stuff for her temporary license and leaves (they don’t even print the cards there, they have to mail the cards from another facility, because pushing Ctrl P is probably WAY TOO COMPLICATED for this crew).

I don’t know what part of that makes me angrier. That fact that some petty bureaucrat can threaten to sic armed guards on a woman holding a 2 year old because she didn’t like her imaginary attitude or the part afterward where she needed to be put in her place, peasant.

Now if I’d been there, it probably would have been a lot worse, because I worked closely with the federal government for a big chunk of my professional career and I am a keen expert on their various forms of nonsense. When she said she’d call the guards, I probably would have said, sweet, you do that while I call my senator’s chief of staff. That reminds me of a story that I still can’t tell because I know the petty little scumbags involved would punish the people I used to work with just out of spite. But I once dealt with a minor government functionary who was so screwed up, imbalanced, hateful, and dumb, that the only thing that finally got them straightened out was when we got a senator involved with their bosses’, boss’, boss. (on that note, Mike Lee is a total badass, and he doesn’t just talk the talk about stopping out of control government abuse, but he walks the walk). Yet you know how that particular agency solved the problem? They promoted the idiot so they wouldn’t have to deal with her anymore. That’s what happens in an organization where it is almost impossible to fire anyone.

Before the easily butt hurt get all up in arms, no, I don’t hate all government employees. Like I said, I’ve worked with the government a lot and I’ve known many solid professionals during that time. However, everybody who has worked with or for the government in any capacity knows exactly how inefficient they are, and if they are one of the aforementioned solid professionals working there, they know that many of their coworkers are useless sacks of poo. In most functioning entities, if you have somebody who sucks, you fire them. When it is almost impossible to fire people, .gov managers do the next best thing and simply shuffle them around so that they are somebody else’s problem. They are fundamentally immune to the repercussions of their actions, and they know it. Then when you give these people some small measure of authority over other people’s lives, it shouldn’t come as a shock when they act like assholes.

Yet Americans are expected to shut up, know our place, and be good little serfs… If we get out of line, we’ll be in trouble.

No, lady, get off your high horse, make eye contact through your four inches of glass, quit fucking mumbling, and speak to us like a human being. I don’t know if you’re talking to me or one of your other friends, nor do I give a shit, because you work for me. That security guard you are threatening my wife with? I bet he doesn’t really like the way you’re using him like a club to intimidate peaceful people either.

Because I lost a slip of paper, my children’s lives will be ruined forever? And I’m being told this by a snide little cog of the government that routinely loses billions of dollars, thousands of rifles in Mexico, or every email that might be vaguely incriminating? Fuck off.

And when I say you work for me, no, I kid you not. I got my final tax bill for 2013. On the same day that my wife was being disrespected by somebody so bad at customer service she wouldn’t be qualified to run a register at Taco Bell, I found out that I paid enough in taxes to cover that woman’s entire salary… Only I’m hoping she doesn’t make that much, and I actually paid enough in taxes to pay her supervisor’s salary, assuming he was a GS 11 or 12, and probably cover his benefits too.

Whenever I complain about taxes I can count on somebody to come along and lecture me about how I should be glad to pay my fair share—about how it is super importantto pay for the iPhones for crack whores program, or the legions of useless departments and their functionaries. Every single time I say something on Twitter or Facebook complaining about the sheer mass of my taxes, or lamenting the other useful things I could have spent that money on, I’m told what a bad person I am and how I should feel bad. If I pay that much, it must be because I’m rich and therefore evil, so I should be super happy to fork over a bunch of what I make. Wanting to keep the fruits of my own labor is greed.

I should be happy to pay my fair share because more Americans work for the government than in the construction, farming, fishing, manufacturing, and mining industries combined. And somebody needs to foot that bill. But that still isn’t enough. The government still needs to do more, because they haven’t yet managed to bring their shitty brand of customer service to every single facet of our lives.

The condemners are usually the same crowd who bitch about everything related to America, or American history, or American exceptionalism, who get all angry at people like me for actually believing in that stuff. The difference is, they think America is the government, whereas my side thinks America is awesome despite our government.

Here is a lot more detail on my opinion on that subject, and my Cut Everything plan. This was my Tax Day Rant that went viral back in 2011: https://monsterhunternation.com/2011/04/15/happy-tax-day/ Hilarity ensued. In fact, it got me so much hate mail that it spawned a response a few days later. https://monsterhunternation.com/2011/04/18/a-response-to-the-tax-day-response/ Which is what helped me come up with the Arguing Checklist.

Since that time I’ve quit my day job to be a full time writer and the amount I’ve paid in taxes has gone up dramatically. The government sure hasn’t gotten any smarter with our money during that either, and nothing drives that home quite like having some petty bureaucrat disrespect your wife all while having the honor of paying for it.