Aritake Yumishi was an ambitious man.
Born the second son of the house of Yumishi, he would have never inherited his father’s lands and wealth, which consisted of a sizable chunk of the southern coast off of Doma; it would have gone to his brother, Hikotoke. But the Imperial occupation that began when he was twelve years old made the matter of birthright moot, since all holdings and properties were immediately claimed by the great Empire and their sympathizers. It was also in thanks to the reach of Garlemald that both his father and his brother were killed in a failed uprising.
Aritake had better sense than his kin; he had escaped to Kugane and laid low for all these years. Then when Lord Hien rose and took Doma back from the Imperial clutches, Aritake was one of the first to shout at the top of his lungs his support for the returned heir to the throne. He didn’t take any part in the liberation, of course, that would have been too dangerous. But where he lacked in bravery and patriotism, Aritake excelled in exploitation.
When the ijin began to come flooding into Kugane to trade, Aritake seized the opportunity to make his connections with those that mattered. Those with money. Elam Grave was one such man, and with the promise of expanding businesses and political power into the newly liberated Doma, Grave and his employers at Crescent Cove Enterprises agreed to invest in the brothels and the drug houses that Aritake would soon establish throughout Doma. The Cove were paid handsomely for the illegal cache of Garlean weapons which would arm his guards at these establishments, as well.
And this sun, Aritake was to receive the best alchemist that Grave had to offer this side of the continent. Aritake awaited impatiently as Grave’s men arrived at the fishing village, with the crate in tow. Behind him were the Confederates that were also under Grave’s payroll. Aritake had dealt with them once before, in the Garlean weapons delivery. They seemed the hardy sort, they had survived a Garlean ambush to still deliver the goods, after all.
“Open it,†Aritake said with a lift of his chin, watching as the wooden crate was loaded onto the wagon. “I wish to check what I’m paying for.â€
Grave’s men glanced at each other, before the foreman nodded. With the lid removed, they pulled up a petite figure of a Auri woman, bound at the wrist with a bag over her head. Aritake leaned over on his horse and yanked the linen sack off her head, to look upon a confused and frightened Xaela. Golden eyes, Grave had said. Such things were said to be good luck to whomever possessed them.
This obviously wasn’t the case for this alchemist, since she was sold to be his, to use as he willed. “Was violence really necessary?†Aritake tutted, noticing a growing welt upon the woman’s cheek. “We wouldn’t want her suffering from a head wound. She’s supposed to concoct potions!â€
Torrad, Grave’s foreman, stepped forward with an apology. He muttered some vague threat to the gagged woman, to which the Xaela shook her head emphatically at the Highlander. “She will behave from here on,†the Highlander grumbled.
Aritake pursed his lips with satisfaction. He had a distaste for beating women. He would hate to use his whip to deliver a lesson so early on. With the slave trade filling his pleasure houses, his own alchemist would provide the unique blend of drugs that Grave had promised. The second son of house Yumishi could easily become one of the wealthiest lords of new Doma.
But then something happened that he did not expect.
Aritake had not kept an eye on the Confederates, for they were part of Grave’s payroll after all. But one of them began to stalk toward the wagon, and drew his sword. The Doman lord had thought nothing of it at first, until blood splattered from the backs of two of Grave’s men, struck down by the pirate. Aritake remained sitting on his horse, somewhat puzzled, even as his own guards rushed forward to protect their lord.
“Stand down, Anchor!†Torrad shouted angrily as he spun around, drawing his own sword. He stood behind the Doman soldiers however, perhaps trying to deduce why the Confederate was suddenly turning on them.
Aritake sniffed as his soldiers surrounded the pirate. He was confident that his own men would cut down one very unwise -- and perhaps unstable, by the look of blind rage on his face -- Confederate. But as their swords clashed, the one called Anchor dodged and swerved with surprising speed. But it was three against one, after all. A slash to his leg was delivered by his soldier but the man did not slow down. When a second cut was delivered to his back, Aritake smiled, certain that the pirate would be slain in matter of moments. But then he glimpse the man’s eyes. What had formerly been an unsightly red hue was now glimmering odd amber.
Anchor did not seem to be slowed by the second cut to his back either. He parried away more blades with his own, then in a move that Aritake could not quite follow, he thrusted the sword through the first soldier’s chest, then jerked it back and twisted his arm to run it through the man coming in behind him. He somehow then sidestepped the third and cleaved the third soldier’s skull.
Torrad then stepped forward, his longblade drawn. “You crazy shite-eating son of a coeurl…†the Highlander growled angrily and the pirate and the foreman clashed swords. The Highlander managed to land another hit on Anchor, slashing him from shoulder toward his torso. But still the Confederate remained upright. Was this pirate a demon? Aritake felt a shiver run up his spine. But his head snapped around when a shot rang out. It was the Confederate’s quartermaster. The rest of the Ironsong’s crew had not deigned to get involved in one of their crewman’s idiocy. At least, until now. The quartermaster was aiming at Torrad with a Garlean pistol.
The Doman lord pulled back on the reins of his horse, back pedaling. He looked at the wagon driver who still had his prize loaded behind him. “Go,†he commanded in a hiss. But just as the wagon lurched forward, he spied the Xaela alchemist, climbing out of the box and jumping off the side of the moving wagon.
Aritake was watching his fortunes collapsing around him. He drew his whip from his belt and with a snap, wrapped it around the Xaela woman’s neck, yanking her back to him. He wound his end of the whip on the saddle and reared his horse around. He would at least make his get away with what he had come for.
That was when he saw the pirate sprinting full speed, leaping onto the wagon. With a swing of his katana, the driver’s head went flying.
Then the pirate spun and flung his sword in Aritake’s direction.
The Doman lord raised his gauntlets to block the flying weapon, the katana clanking to the ground as it grazed off his well made and very expensive armor. But now, this crazy pirate was without a weapon. Aritake grew bold. The fortunes were turning again. He spun his horse around and drew out his own pistol, ignoring the foreman, the crew, and the quartermaster for now. This yellow-eyed pirate was a rabid dog that he alone could put down. He aimed the pistol at Anchor who was now weaponless, and fired.
The man should have fallen. He didn’t. Blood trailed his every step; his chest, now also gifted with a gunshot wound, heaved with liquid breaths. But still he ran toward the Doman lord, unnatural strength allowing him to leap onto the horse, his hands going to for Aritake’s throat.
Aritake desperately attempted to fire his pistol again, when he saw the veins upon the pirate’s face -- around his eyes, his arms -- all bearing that same sickly yellow hue. The lines beneath his skin pulsed. Aritake, his panic drowning him, noticed the same glow upon his own body, like fissures upon a cracked land. Too late, he felt an ungiving pressure build within his own head and neck.
The last thing he saw was amber light bleeding into his own vision, blinding him... and then everything went red.
Born the second son of the house of Yumishi, he would have never inherited his father’s lands and wealth, which consisted of a sizable chunk of the southern coast off of Doma; it would have gone to his brother, Hikotoke. But the Imperial occupation that began when he was twelve years old made the matter of birthright moot, since all holdings and properties were immediately claimed by the great Empire and their sympathizers. It was also in thanks to the reach of Garlemald that both his father and his brother were killed in a failed uprising.
Aritake had better sense than his kin; he had escaped to Kugane and laid low for all these years. Then when Lord Hien rose and took Doma back from the Imperial clutches, Aritake was one of the first to shout at the top of his lungs his support for the returned heir to the throne. He didn’t take any part in the liberation, of course, that would have been too dangerous. But where he lacked in bravery and patriotism, Aritake excelled in exploitation.
When the ijin began to come flooding into Kugane to trade, Aritake seized the opportunity to make his connections with those that mattered. Those with money. Elam Grave was one such man, and with the promise of expanding businesses and political power into the newly liberated Doma, Grave and his employers at Crescent Cove Enterprises agreed to invest in the brothels and the drug houses that Aritake would soon establish throughout Doma. The Cove were paid handsomely for the illegal cache of Garlean weapons which would arm his guards at these establishments, as well.
And this sun, Aritake was to receive the best alchemist that Grave had to offer this side of the continent. Aritake awaited impatiently as Grave’s men arrived at the fishing village, with the crate in tow. Behind him were the Confederates that were also under Grave’s payroll. Aritake had dealt with them once before, in the Garlean weapons delivery. They seemed the hardy sort, they had survived a Garlean ambush to still deliver the goods, after all.
“Open it,†Aritake said with a lift of his chin, watching as the wooden crate was loaded onto the wagon. “I wish to check what I’m paying for.â€
Grave’s men glanced at each other, before the foreman nodded. With the lid removed, they pulled up a petite figure of a Auri woman, bound at the wrist with a bag over her head. Aritake leaned over on his horse and yanked the linen sack off her head, to look upon a confused and frightened Xaela. Golden eyes, Grave had said. Such things were said to be good luck to whomever possessed them.
This obviously wasn’t the case for this alchemist, since she was sold to be his, to use as he willed. “Was violence really necessary?†Aritake tutted, noticing a growing welt upon the woman’s cheek. “We wouldn’t want her suffering from a head wound. She’s supposed to concoct potions!â€
Torrad, Grave’s foreman, stepped forward with an apology. He muttered some vague threat to the gagged woman, to which the Xaela shook her head emphatically at the Highlander. “She will behave from here on,†the Highlander grumbled.
Aritake pursed his lips with satisfaction. He had a distaste for beating women. He would hate to use his whip to deliver a lesson so early on. With the slave trade filling his pleasure houses, his own alchemist would provide the unique blend of drugs that Grave had promised. The second son of house Yumishi could easily become one of the wealthiest lords of new Doma.
But then something happened that he did not expect.
Aritake had not kept an eye on the Confederates, for they were part of Grave’s payroll after all. But one of them began to stalk toward the wagon, and drew his sword. The Doman lord had thought nothing of it at first, until blood splattered from the backs of two of Grave’s men, struck down by the pirate. Aritake remained sitting on his horse, somewhat puzzled, even as his own guards rushed forward to protect their lord.
“Stand down, Anchor!†Torrad shouted angrily as he spun around, drawing his own sword. He stood behind the Doman soldiers however, perhaps trying to deduce why the Confederate was suddenly turning on them.
Aritake sniffed as his soldiers surrounded the pirate. He was confident that his own men would cut down one very unwise -- and perhaps unstable, by the look of blind rage on his face -- Confederate. But as their swords clashed, the one called Anchor dodged and swerved with surprising speed. But it was three against one, after all. A slash to his leg was delivered by his soldier but the man did not slow down. When a second cut was delivered to his back, Aritake smiled, certain that the pirate would be slain in matter of moments. But then he glimpse the man’s eyes. What had formerly been an unsightly red hue was now glimmering odd amber.
Anchor did not seem to be slowed by the second cut to his back either. He parried away more blades with his own, then in a move that Aritake could not quite follow, he thrusted the sword through the first soldier’s chest, then jerked it back and twisted his arm to run it through the man coming in behind him. He somehow then sidestepped the third and cleaved the third soldier’s skull.
Torrad then stepped forward, his longblade drawn. “You crazy shite-eating son of a coeurl…†the Highlander growled angrily and the pirate and the foreman clashed swords. The Highlander managed to land another hit on Anchor, slashing him from shoulder toward his torso. But still the Confederate remained upright. Was this pirate a demon? Aritake felt a shiver run up his spine. But his head snapped around when a shot rang out. It was the Confederate’s quartermaster. The rest of the Ironsong’s crew had not deigned to get involved in one of their crewman’s idiocy. At least, until now. The quartermaster was aiming at Torrad with a Garlean pistol.
The Doman lord pulled back on the reins of his horse, back pedaling. He looked at the wagon driver who still had his prize loaded behind him. “Go,†he commanded in a hiss. But just as the wagon lurched forward, he spied the Xaela alchemist, climbing out of the box and jumping off the side of the moving wagon.
Aritake was watching his fortunes collapsing around him. He drew his whip from his belt and with a snap, wrapped it around the Xaela woman’s neck, yanking her back to him. He wound his end of the whip on the saddle and reared his horse around. He would at least make his get away with what he had come for.
That was when he saw the pirate sprinting full speed, leaping onto the wagon. With a swing of his katana, the driver’s head went flying.
Then the pirate spun and flung his sword in Aritake’s direction.
The Doman lord raised his gauntlets to block the flying weapon, the katana clanking to the ground as it grazed off his well made and very expensive armor. But now, this crazy pirate was without a weapon. Aritake grew bold. The fortunes were turning again. He spun his horse around and drew out his own pistol, ignoring the foreman, the crew, and the quartermaster for now. This yellow-eyed pirate was a rabid dog that he alone could put down. He aimed the pistol at Anchor who was now weaponless, and fired.
The man should have fallen. He didn’t. Blood trailed his every step; his chest, now also gifted with a gunshot wound, heaved with liquid breaths. But still he ran toward the Doman lord, unnatural strength allowing him to leap onto the horse, his hands going to for Aritake’s throat.
Aritake desperately attempted to fire his pistol again, when he saw the veins upon the pirate’s face -- around his eyes, his arms -- all bearing that same sickly yellow hue. The lines beneath his skin pulsed. Aritake, his panic drowning him, noticed the same glow upon his own body, like fissures upon a cracked land. Too late, he felt an ungiving pressure build within his own head and neck.
The last thing he saw was amber light bleeding into his own vision, blinding him... and then everything went red.
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