Doucheng, the capital of Moutan

The Past: Late Spring, 1461

The morning of the parade dawned bright and beautiful and Pul could already hear the dull roar of cheering voices and shouts before the gates of the city were thrown wide open. With faces wreathed in smiles and children waving, the people of Moutan were incredibly welcoming. In fact, Pul was shocked by how happy everyone looked. Compared to Shobu where the faces of the commoners were gaunt and drawn with hard living, the people of Moutan looked healthy and lively. Eyes that would have been dull in Shobu, sparkled in Moutan. Expressions that would have had been deeply furrowed with harsh lines around dried lips, were instead beaming with laugh lines around eyes that were bent into crescents and curving mouths full of white teeth.

“Look at how handsome their Prince is!” a girl giggled, as Seiren passed. 

“Our little princess is so lucky…he’s very handsome…” agreed her companion, blushing.

Following at a short distance behind his brother, Pul’s head steamed. If Seiren was embarrassed by such girlish admiration, he didn’t show it.

“Welcome! Welcome Prince Seiren!” others shouted.

As they continued down the broad avenue lined with well-wishers, Seiren’s men blew hard on their war horns, ostentatiously declaring their arrival in Moutan’s capital. 

Pul shaded his eyes, glancing at the high buildings up ahead. He noticed that many people were also watching from balconies above the street. Old and young, people leaned over the railings, some throwing blossoms from baskets. He scanned the balconies, continuing to be watchful, and noticed four youngsters. He frowned when he saw that three were masked.  Out of an abundance of caution, he dug his heels into his mount, urging his horse forward so that he could warn Seiren.

He had already spurred his horse when his neck prickled. A shout went up and the crowd shifted back and forth in alarm.

Squeezing out from the crowd and into the broad avenue, a small child wearing a mask slipped      out right in front of Seiren’s horse. 

Pul panicked.

Spooked by the sudden appearance of the child, his brother’s stallion reared up, neighing with whitened eyes. It caused Seiren to stand in the stirrups, and he pulled at the reins as he fought to yank the stallion’s head back down. People screamed as they tried to back out of the way, but the crowd was too tightly packed. The street became chaotic as people started to run.

Pul’s eyes widened as the masked child slid between the stomping hooves of the rearing animal and swung themselves upward onto the saddle of Seiren’s horse, while drawing three throwing knives.

“Watch out!” he screamed, but it was too late as the knives flashed silver in the sunlight.

Pul’s mouth opened again, but no sound came out.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

“Aghh!” Pul gasped as the child’s knives deflected a slew of arrows, protecting Seiren’s life. Pul heard his brother’s shout and both he and the child toppled over to the side amidst the shrieks and screams of the crowd.

Behind Pul, Furusawa shouted at his men, urging them forward to help his fallen prince.

Men rushed around Pul as his horse reared under him, still straining against the reins. It bucked and skidded sideways as Seiren’s mount screeched in agony.  A second volley of arrows thudded into the saddle where Seiren had been only a moment before. 

As he yanked on his own reins, trying to control his mount, Pul’s foot slipped out of the stirrup. Tumbling sideways, he caught his arm on the way down, and wrenched it out of its socket as he fell hard onto his shoulder and hip. Gasping for breath in the dirt, he could only push himself up on one hand, trying to get his bearings. He cried out as the crowd surged again, pushing and shoving, stepping on him as they tried to avoid Seiren’s maddened stallion.

“Protect your Prince! To me! To me!” shouted a high voice in slightly accented Shoban. He realized it was the shinobi child that had saved Seiren, calling with a voice that was strangely loud. The sound sliced through the crowd noise as if it had been shouted directly into everyone’s heads. Startling him, the cry cut through Pul’s haze of pain.

“Pul!” Seiren screamed. “Watch out!”

A shadow loomed over him and Pul’s eyes bulged.

“The horse…” he whispered, eyes shooting up the rearing belly all the way to the hooves striking empty air high above him. His body froze.

“ARGH!” the shinobi child screamed, throwing himself over Pul’s. For a moment, Pul’s vision went black as he tried to shut out the sickening crunch that followed.

“HUUH!” the child huffed into Pul’s ear, hot breath rushing over the side of his face. For a moment everything went white, and when he came back to himself, he didn’t register the fact that Seiren was crouching over him screaming his name.

“Pul…Pul…are you alright?” Seiren’s hoarse voice called urgently from above him.

Pul groaned and tried to move his legs, but he felt heavy, like something was weighing him down. He saw that there was a small body on top of him and realized that the shinobi child must have died under the horses hooves. His muddled thoughts were interrupted by the sudden and rhythmic clank of armour, and he realized that soldiers must have arrived to help. 

“Seiren…” he coughed, trying to extract himself, but he couldn’t and passed out.

“Pul!!”

As Seiren tried to lift his brother, a smooth, unfamiliar voice interrupted him.

“Your Highness, Crown Prince Hinode Seiren: I apologize that I must give my greeting in such circumstances.” 

Seiren froze. Then he stood and turned in the direction of a masked man in blue and silver robes walking towards him accompanied by an auburn-haired captain who had the look of someone from Keungang.

“Welcome?! What kind of welcome is this?!” one of Seiren’s advisors clamoured, almost hysterical. The prince frowned and put up his hand to silence his subordinate.

“As a prince of Shobu, I thank you. Seeing your mask, you must be Grand Chancellor Mu. The reputation and prowess of your Shadow guard precedes you…and I’m especially grateful for it today,” Seiren answered calmly, “but I’m afraid I’ve troubled you to come personally…”

Although Seiren sounded calm on the outside, his heart was still thundering in his chest.

Lord Mu bowed and graciously replied: “It’s no trouble. With such a serious occurrence, I would have come anyway.”

Seiren nodded, mouth a flat line. It was difficult for him to hide his fear about Pul’s state, but he did not want to appear overly concerned given that Pul was supposedly only his page. In any other circumstance, he would have picked his brother up himself to find a doctor. His jaw tightened as he fought to hold down his emotions.

“Shall we get them up, Your Highness?” asked Lord Mu politely.

“Ah…yes, we should, but I fear this child here is dead…” Seiren said, sounding depressed.

“No, your Highness,” Lord Mu replied, sounding a bit odd. “In truth, it would take a lot to kill this little sparrow. Please allow me…”

Seiren carefully backed out of the way as the Grand Chancellor bent to lift the limp body of the child into his arms. If Seiren was surprised by how gently Lord Mu handled the child, he didn’t show it.

“This little one is mine. I’m glad that he could be of service. From the looks of it, your page doesn’t look too badly injured,” Lord Mu said as he tilted his head towards Pul. “I’ll send the imperial doctors to see you and your people. Captain Moon here will escort you into the guest palace immediately.”

Seiren thanked Lord Mu with a quick bow.

Lord Mu took control of the situation quickly, ensuring that the Shoban entourage had what they needed, as well as the civilians who’d been injured in the chaos. Lord Mu was known for being a terrifyingly cold and calculating man, but the way he tenderly cradled the small child in his arms made Seiren think there was more to him than what he’d seen today.