Chương 20: Book 1: Chapter 7 - Satomi [Part 4]

Shimon felt the distant, shameful relief of someone watching blame and responsibility apportioned to another. Then Yoshihiro turned his attention back to the survivors.

"Kume Tarō. Ayanokouji Shimon." Both men remained with their heads bowed.

"You went into the forest as hired blades. You return as men who have killed yōma and uncovered danger hidden in human shape. Such men are not easily dismissed. A blade that has proved its edge may yet be called upon to cut again." The lord glanced at Nagai, prompting Morichika to lean forward and speak in a voice that carried through the hall.

"These two are brave men. Proven by deed, witnessed by retainers, confirmed by all, and marked by survival where better armed men died. My lord has use for such men. Yōma sightings have worsened across the border villages and roads. The matter of Sakurai Iori entering through the Adventurer's Za raises suspicion over those hired to clear the very threat they may now conceal." His gaze rested on Shimon briefly.

"Therefore, by my lord's will, Kume Tarō and Ayanokouji Shimon are taken into service under the Satomi banner. They will be retained for yōma matters and placed under my supervision until otherwise. A house for each of them made vacant by the recent battle shall be assigned for their use, along with stipend, duties, and instruction." A house. Shimon's mind caught on that first because it was the most absurdly normal part of the declaration. A base, a save point without the convenience of saving.

Then the rest arrived; taken into service, duties, supervision, and yōma matters. The orange screen opened. [QUEST COMPLETE] Hunt the Yōma: Optional Objective 3, Acquire proof of guild recognition is now overridden by Lord's Patronage. 1 bonus Attribute Point acquired. Go Into Service With The Local Lord. Objective: Enter the service of the castle lord. [Completed] Objective: Become recognized as a yōma hunter. [Completed] Reward: Patronage acquired. Reward: Local Reputation increased. Reward: Class Upgrade.

Reward: 130 experience points, 1 bonus Attribute Point. Title Acquired: Proven Yōma Hunter. Affiliation Acquired: Satomi Clan Retainer. Class Upgraded: Ronin → Samurai. Now, Shimon was within striking distance of the next level thanks to the quest. And, interestingly, it looked like he could still complete bonus objectives from old quests as long as he did not fail them. The lord was still speaking as he placed both of his bonus Attribute points into Body.

"You will serve well," Yoshihiro declared. Tarō bowed.

"This low one is honored beyond measure." That sounded correct, and suitably humble so Shimon bowed and repeated it.

"I am honored beyond measure." Yoshihiro looked at him for a moment longer than comfort allowed.

"Ayanokouji."

"Yes, my lord."

"Men who survive strange things often become strange men." Shimon's hands tightened reflexively. The lord continued, "See that your strangeness remains useful." Shimon bowed even lower.

"I will strive to do so." That seemed to satisfy Lord Satomi Yoshihiro, and the formal dismissal came soon after. They backed out, or rather Tarō backed out properly and Shimon followed him with the intense concentration of a man defusing a bomb. The doors closed, and the hall vanished behind wood and paper. Only then did Shimon allow himself to breathe. They were then led back to the waiting room. No one spoke for a long while as Tarō sat heavily, though not carelessly. His face was difficult to read.

"You are samurai again," Shimon remarked softly. Kume looked down at his hands.

"My brother would have laughed," he admitted. This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it Shimon waited, waiting for the other man to lance the recent boil.

"He would have said I finally found a lord by getting hit into a tree." The words sat between them, and despite himself, Shimon let out a small breath that was almost a laugh and almost not. Tarō's mouth twitched. Then his eyes grew wet and he looked away. Shimon pretended not to see, the highest form of face saving mercy available. Like this, they waited. Outside, voices moved through the hall. Men came and went. The machinery of the castle resumed around them, adjusting to new decisions.

Somewhere nearby, a dinosaur shrieked once, high and annoyed, followed by a handler's sharp command. After some time, Morichika entered. This time, he came without the full weight of ceremony, though he still carried enough of it to make Shimon nervous. The samurai who had escorted them bowed and withdrew. Nagai sat opposite them and both men bowed to him.

"At ease," Nagai said gruffly.

"You both did well enough." Tarō bowed his head lower.

"Nagai-sama honors us."

"I spoke for you before my lord," Nagai continued.

"Do not make me regret it." There it was. Patronage, the old and universal bargain. I helped you, therefore your future errors are attacks on my judgment.

"Yes, Nagai-sama," Tarō said.

"Yes, Nagai-sama," Shimon echoed dutifully. Nagai's gaze moved between them.

"The matter of yōma has been handled poorly. Too long we have left small sightings to shrines, temples, villagers, hired blades, and the Adventurer's Za. That was convenient. Convenience invites rot. Sakurai Iori entered under witness. That means the rot has learned doors." Shimon liked that phrase, even as it troubled him. The rot has learned doors. The important samurai continued, "My lord has ordered that yōma control be brought closer to hand. Under my hand, for now.

I am gathering men who can fight, priests who can see the signs, monks who can put the dead properly beyond reach of the dark arts, and scholars to document our efforts and find the patterns. You two will be part of this great work."

"Scholars?" Shimon asked before he could stop himself. Nagai looked at him. The young man lowered his head.

"Forgive me."

"No," Nagai chastised.

"Ask when the question is useful. Stay silent when it is not. Learn the difference quickly."

"Yes, Nagai-sama," Shimon answered in his most polite voice.

"Scholars," Nagai explained nonetheless, "because old records speak of patterns. Places where graves open. Years when births go wrong. Villages abandoned and then erased from tax ledgers. Priests remember some things. Monks write others. Warriors through combat, their hands learning better answers to the question of killing. But, answers can be found as much on parchment, as they can be on the edge of a blade. Still, when honor dies, only the blade remains."

Shimon thought of databases, search functions, pattern recognition, and metadata. Things the world did not have and badly needed if it was to achieve this goal. His chip stirred, as if reminded of its purpose. [ANALYSIS NOTE] Potential long-term objective: Data aggregation may improve threat prediction. No, Shimon thought quietly. Do not volunteer for supernatural data science and investigation." Nagai's eyes narrowed slightly, perhaps at some small change in his face.

"You have thoughts." Shimon bowed.

"Only that records are useful, Nagai-sama."

"Good. Then you can learn to read ours properly if you cannot." Nagai looked at Tarō.

"Kume Tarō, you have practical knowledge and sense enough to know fear without succumbing to it. You will be useful." Tarō bowed. Then Nagai looked at Shimon.

"Ayanokouji Shimon. You are either very lucky, very skilled, or some poorly understood combination of the two. Until I know which, you will be watched." Shimon bowed lower.

"I understand."

"You do not," Nagai snorted.

"But perhaps you understand enough to obey."

"Yes, Nagai-sama," Shimon responded quickly. After all, that, at least, was true. Nagai leaned back slightly.

"You will both be given a house today. It belonged to a man who died in the recent battle and left no close kin within reach. His weapons have gone to the storehouse. His debts have gone to the accountants. His roof will now cover you." Shimon thought of the corpse whose sword he wore. Of pouches taken from dead men. Of armor harvested from the field. Of a house emptied by violence and filled by survivors because waste was a luxury. This world, it seemed, recycled everything that was useful.

Even grief, the grief of a brother.

"You will also receive lessons," Nagai stated. Tarō stiffened almost imperceptibly.

"Lessons, Nagai-sama?" Tarō inquired.

"Yes. You are brave men. You are also rough blades, and rough blades cut the hand of the cook who tries to use them in the kitchen. Kume, you know enough to pass among low retainers and hired men. Ayanokouji knows enough to be dangerous to himself in a hallway." Shimon stiffened at the words, despite the truth behind them. He had, after all, faced and defeated several monsters and men, even if he had not killed them all by his own hand alone. The powerful man continued, "You will learn service. Proper speech.

Proper dress. Etiquette. Records. Chain of command. When to stand. When to kneel. When to speak. In time, you may even become respectable members of the Satomi clan." Nagai rose and both men bowed again to him.

"One more thing," the senior retainer remarked just as he was about to leave. Shimon froze and Nagai looked at him first, then Tarō.

"In the hall, you both gave credit to dead men. That was well done." Tarō's head lowered further.

"Do not forget the living require credit too," the important samurai added.

"A man raised by another's word owes a debt." Debt. The shape of the things that moved this world, and the shape of the rope around his neck. Debt to the unknown thing that had saved his life. These things weighed upon Shimon Ayanokouji. But, Shimon merely replied with a, "Yes, Nagai-sama". Nagai nodded once and left. The door slid closed behind him, and for a long moment, neither new samurai spoke. Then Tarō exhaled, slow and heavy.

"Lessons." Shimon looked at him.

"That is the part that worries you?" Tarō's expression was grave.

"Learning how to make marks on paper is neither interesting, nor much fun. I have not been much for numbers or poetry either."

"It is, what it is," the young man replied sardonically. Shimon closed his eyes. Samurai, he thought. I have become a samurai. His childhood self, the one who had liked violent games and dramatic last stands might have found that wonderful. His present self mostly wondered whether the assigned house had thick, strong doors.