The annex of Shuto Castle, Shobu

The Past: Early Winter, 1460

Seiren swallowed, trying to clear the obstruction in his throat.

Pul…please don’t say you stayed here the entire time…

The boy nodded, eyes still glued to the ground.

Seiren felt crushed.

“Even if you didn’t attend lessons, did the servants not bring food?” he demanded.

“T-They were too afraid, but Kurenai brought some.”

Dammit!

The only person that the servants feared more than himself and his mother was his father’s favourite consort, Lady Sakurako. Had she ordered them to stay away from the annex while he’d been away?

“When did you last eat?” Seiren asked, wanting to shake his brother.

Pul’s stomach chose that moment to growl loudly, causing the boy to flush again.

“It wasn’t that long ago,” he said very softly, though Seiren could tell he was lying.

“Oh? I brought food…should I take it away?” asked Seiren, pointing to a box that peaked out of the bag that he’d put down near the door. Dropping the pretense, he said: “Pul, this isn’t like you…Why did you say nothing?”

“Lady Sakurako came,” said Pul, moving to sit.

Seiren froze in the act of removing the lid of the food box and nearly spilled the pickled vegetables and rice inside.

“She said that I should not covet the things that you and Prince Keizo have…that my mother disgraced herself with the horned demon and…that it is a mercy that I have not been confined to the hidden palace under the lake. That being so, I should live like I’m dead.”

Pul’s voice did not tremble. He did not sound hurt. His expression was matter of fact and devoid of emotion…as if he’d simply accepted that this was his lot in life. 

The sight of Pul’s hands fisted in his lap made Seiren bristle. He’d never seen Pul so resigned and it cut him deeply to see his brother simply give in.  Looking very serious, he pressed chopsticks into his brother’s hands.

“Come. Eat…” he insisted.

Pul nodded, hesitating only a moment before stuffing a bit of rice into his mouth. Seiren didn’t have the heart to tell him to slow down, only pouring a bit of cold tea into a chipped cup when the boy choked and started coughing. However as Pul’s stomach filled, he ate with less haste, savouring the taste of vinegar on the pickled radish and the saltiness of the dried fish flakes that had been sprinkled generously over the rice. When he was done, not a scrap was left.

When Seiren saw that his brother had his fill, he turned to him and enunciated each word so that his brother would not misunderstand.

“Pul…your name is Hinode. It is the most noble of names given to the rising sun of the East. You are a prince by birth, descended from the great Blue Dragon. No one…neither myself, nor my mother, not even Lady Sakurako can take that away from you. Do you understand?”

Seiren waited for his brother’s agreement. Pul lowered his eyes, but dipped his head ever so slightly.

“Good. I’m glad you understand, but I came to talk about something else. In six or so months I will be leaving for Moutan to negotiate the terms of a marriage alliance. I am telling you now that you will be coming as my only page. In the time before we leave, I expect you to learn how to conduct yourself properly on a diplomatic mission. Lord Bai will assist you.”

Pul’s head shot up in surprise.

“How do you mean to get Father’s permission?” he breathed out, eyes wide with surprise and excitement.

Seiren’s eyebrows came together.

“I already manage the affairs of my own quarters and retinue…I don’t need Father’s permission to choose a page,” Seiren said, scoffing. “Nor will I be asking him.”

“...I see,” said the younger boy, wiping the back of his hand against his mouth. His blue eyes flickered with uncertainty.

“Pul, you’ve always been bright and Lord Bai has always praised you. Practice the etiquettes as you’ve always done. I also know that you read the ancient Moutan language very well. Learn more so that you can advise me while we are there. I hope you won’t disappoint me.”

Pul looked thoughtful for a moment, then placing both hands on his thighs, he bowed.

“I understand, your Highness. I won’t disappoint you.”

“Pul?”

“Yes?” the boy blinked.

“The adult name that was bestowed to me is Seiren,” the Crown Prince smiled, his brilliant blue eyes sparkling. He’d realized halfway through their conversation that Pul had been addressing him formally as no one had bothered to advise of his new name. It was obvious to Seiren that Pul had been too embarrassed to use his brother’s childhood name of ‘Shin’.

“Seiren…meaning integrity, honesty…it’s a good name,” said Pul, mulling it over.

“I’m glad you think so,” Seiren grinned.

Pul nodded.

“Now…since you are to be my page, let’s see about some better clothes…” he said, pulling Pul to his feet.

***

Outside the capital of Moutan

The Past: Late Spring, 1461

Pul took a drink from his water skin, spilling a bit in his haste to rinse the taste of dust from his mouth. He watched as the water slowly absorbed into the ground and then glanced to the front of the convoy where Seiren was having a very tense discussion with his advisors against a backdrop of gently swirling blossoms. Feeling out of sorts, Pul found the contrast unsettling.

There was no doubt that spring in Moutan was beautiful. With the air filled with the rich scent of blooming flowers and greenery, it was more different from Shobu’s rocky land than he could have imagined. However the beauty around him, could not distract him from the rising argument his brother was having. The cadence of multiple voices was punctuated by frustration and concern…mostly on the side of the advisors.

Seiren was listening patiently, but Pul could see that his brother was also beginning to show signs of frustration. He tilted his head in curiosity as a man named Furusawa Ranmaru strode past him and intervened. Furusawa was newly promoted to the Prince’s retinue, only a second son, but a reliable military man. While Furusawa understood the need for politics, he was by no means as well versed in it as Seiren’s other retainers, some of whom hailed from ancient noble families. However, whatever Furusawa said ended the argument. Though the rhythm of his words seemed sharp, his proposal mollified the other advisors, though their posture led Pul to believe that they remained skeptical.

Posture…body language, all these things can be read, he thought to himself. Lord Bai had mentioned that people didn’t just speak with their mouths, but with their hands, their eyes, the way they stood…and that sometimes these signs spoke a different truth from their lips. 

Pul continued to observe, watching carefully. He could see that Seiren’s expression was tight, and that his arms were folded over his chest, but then his brother nodded, jaw softening as acceptance passed over his face. Breaking into a grin, Seiren clapped Furusawa on the shoulder and then walked briskly over to Pul.

“What’s happened?” asked Pul quietly.

“Haaaaah…my mother’s people, those stodgy old farts…” Seiren groused, “they want me to enter the city in full armour for the parade tomorrow.” Sighing he leaned back against a tree and tilted his face as if to receive the falling blossoms: “Do you know why I don’t wish it so?”

“Mmmmn,” Pul frowned, mulling it over.

Seiren sighed again, but ruffled his brother’s blond hair which was now neatly trimmed and carefully tied with a silk ribbon. He gleamed with satisfaction as he noted how much better Pul looked than he had eight months ago. He’d also filled out a bit, though he remained too short for his age. Regardless, he was properly dressed and obviously his studies had been going well, for he answered Seiren only after a short pause.

“It’s a provocation to do so…” Pul wrinkled his nose. “Brother is here for a marriage alliance. Xiao Jing Feng may take the armor as a challenge.”

“Indeed. You understood quickly,” Seiren smiled, pleased. “Unfortunately, there are concerns about safety.”

Pul’s eyes widened.

“Your safety?”

Seiren nodded sourly.

“An open parade is a perfect opportunity for assassination. Though I’m still reluctant, I recognize the good sense in being prepared. As such, I will don a chest plate and keep my swords at my side.”

“What about your head?” Pul’s forehead wrinkled with worry.

Seiren laughed, bright and clear.

“Since I value it greatly, I must guard it well, don’t you think, little brother?” he grinned, clearly unperturbed.

Though Seiren was being lighthearted in front of Pul, he did not dismiss the possibility of an attack. His father had been strangely accommodating with all his requests before their departure. Though Seiren was certain that Hinode Seigen was aware that he’d spirited his little brother out of the annex, there had been no comments about it. The lack of movement on his father’s part bothered him. A niggling worry bubbled to the surface.

Seiren bore his father no particular ill will, but he also carried very little of the sentiment that one would expect between a father and son. Seigen disliked his son’s moderate attitude, and the reality was that Seiren had been born of a queen that his father had taken to wife out of political necessity. Had he not been the eldest son, then someone else would surely have been the Crown Prince. Ever since Keizo, the youngest Prince, had been born to Lady Sakurako, his father had looked for every opportunity to find fault with him. While living in Shuto Castle had been a battlefield every day, he could still rely on his mother and the nobles loyal to him, but the outside world was a different matter…

While in Shobu, the King and Queen held each other in check, leaving no real opportunities for either to derail the succession. Obviously, Lady Sakurako did what she could to undermine Seiren’s position in favour of her own son, and Seigen often turned a blind eye to the more sinister moves of his consort.

Seiren had no illusions about his father’s attitude, and now that he was in Moutan, it was less a matter of ‘if’, and more a matter of ‘when’ an attempt would be made on his life. It was times like this when he wished Kurenai at this side, but he had deliberately left the shinobi behind to ensure his mother’s safety.

Pul saw that his brother’s mouth had flattened into a thin line when he thought that he wasn’t looking, but Pul had noticed. He also noticed the downcast expression that had momentarily flickered across Seiren’s face…an expression that he was not accustomed to seeing on his gentle, but confident brother’s face.

“We’ll camp here for the night and make the final preparations in the morning. Come…have a look, the northern gate is just there…”

 Seiren grabbed his younger brother’s hand, pointing as he drew him to the edge of the ridge they were on. There down below, next to the river, was the Palace of Moutan, and closer still,      the City’s gate, that would open to receive them.