Luckily, my mood improved marginally over the following weeks, as I became busy with what all with a desk job must face.

  Paperwork.

  Not that I really had a desk job, mind you. But my point stood. I found myself increasingly busy with sitting at my desk and writing boring, mundane, but necessary documents. With the school trip drawing close, the correspondence with the various Merchant Guilds and independent merchants was coming to a head. Even though this was a yearly event, it somehow remained an infuriatingly difficult task.

  Case in point:

  Dear Morgana,

  While we, the Portisolan Merchant Guild, always appreciate our, between Paideia and our serene republic, business dealings, we regret to inform you that we can’t accept your present offer.

  The cost of…

  …look forward to hearing your reply to our counteroffer.

  With sincere regards,

  Piedro Esteves

  Appointed negotiator by His Serene Síndico Jairo Mata

  It wasn’t as if I was proposing below-cost prices for renting their river boats… I carefully considered the current prices of the various wares each Merchant Guild and independent merchant might be transporting that time of the year, which was always the same anyway. Trying to prognose the prices those wares would cost was honestly the hardest part. Then, I added some maintenance surcharge, and violà, I had fair prices for them.

  The proposal referenced, I sent before New Year’s Eve.

  I really shouldn’t surprise me, as I almost at the same time got a very… pointed letter from the Luminus States’ foreign office.

  Dear Diarchs of Paideia,

  We must protest your recent action in the strongest possible sense.

  Your desire to rent out all of the peninsula’s river boats and trade ships, can only be interpreted as harmful to the economy of all of us in Umbrea. Unless you cease your reckless actions, will be forced to see them as intentional, and therefore hostile.

  Best regards,

  Lucio Vicario

  Minister of Foreign Affairs to his holiness Solarch Lucius XIII of the Luminus States and the Church of the Holy Light

  Well, the Luminus States hated my guts, whilst at the same time feeling more than content at having me impart my knowledge on their citizens and future crusaders. So, their protestations weren’t unexpected.

  They sent one every year.

  As for Portisola’s Merchant Guild, they merely acted as an arm for the Portisolan Republic, as its government was made up of the highest-ranking members of their Merchant Guild. They were pretty much a merchant republic. They didn’t hate me, so much as they wanted a bigger piece of the pie, with the pie being all of the Umbrean peninsula.

  The peninsula had two major powers, the Luminus States in the western part and the Portisolan Republic in the northeastern part. The rest was occupied by various city-states that had banded together in a less than functional coalition.

  And both the Luminus States and the Portisolan Republic both laid claim to all of the peninsula, for varying reasons.

  None of this mattered to the task at hand, though, except as to explain the source of my resurfacing headache.

  The door to my study opened with a soft creak and Fluminix poked her head out from behind it. She let out a little squeak as her electric blue eyes met my black orbs.

  Was it me, or did that sound a bit more like a growl to me? “What is it, little one?”

  She turned away, only to return a moment later, carrying a book in her maw. I got up and walked over, so I could bend forward and take it from her.

  “Interesting choice,” I commented with a raised eyebrow as I saw which book had caught her attention this time, before I gave her head a few scratches. “Alright then, balcony?”

  She was out of my study, before I could even open the door farther. I followed after her with a soft chuckle and made my way to the balcony as well, where I sat down next to her on the banister and cleared my throat before I started to read one of the stories in the book.

  “A long time ago, in a land far to the east, which is nowadays known as Nikkei, there once lived a dragon on a tall snow-capped mountain. A majestic wind dragon, with their long, serpentine body covered with scales the colour of clouds. It was said that they had lived there for centuries, quietly watching over Ryūsei-kyō.

  “The entrance to their windy lair had long since been remodelled into a shrine, with torii guarding its entryway and the winding path up the mountain. It spoke of the dragon’s significance. For down in, what had become, Ryūsei-kyō, the Mutsu clan had risen to prominence. And according to them, it was due to the dragon’s guardianship.

  “The wind dragon would use their magic to change and alter the weather patterns around the mountain according to their whim and will. Whatever their initial reasons, it had led to the valley in which Ryūsei-kyō was built to become fertile lands. More so than that of the Mutsu clan’s neighbours.

  “For their good fortune, they hailed the dragon as a kami, one of the ancient Mutsu-koku’s guardian spirits.”

  Fascinating things, those kami. I’d met a few of them when I was posing as a travelling merchant in my centuries-long mood prior to founding Paideia. Normally, when one summons a spirit, one would bind them to oneself. In Nikkei, they had developed an entirely different tradition, namely, to bind them to a physical object. A shrine.

  Most of these spirits had been summoned centuries, if not millennia, ago and thus had become more a part of the material plane. With it, they had learned to become less distorted, without becoming more powerful, and assume a form that was common in the surroundings of the shrine. The oldest of them, could perfectly mimic an animal of their ‘choosing’ – it was less choosing, more stumble upon and being stuck with it – as well as morph their animal form into a humanoid form that likened that of beastkin, as in human with animal features.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  Some had even learned to mimic speech with their magic.

  Truly fascinating.

  “One day, missionaries found their way to the mountainous island, to bring the word of the Radiant Goddess, Sola, to Mutsu-koku. They’d sailed from faraway Tajeset to bypass the, still hostile, Chè dynasty of the Lushan Empire, a long and atrocious journey.

  “They were met, in on the southern shore of Mutsu-koku’s main island, with the apprehension that many grant to strangers. The language barrier didn’t help their attempts at conveying their peaceful intent. Still, they adapted and eventually gained the favour and protection of the local kokujin, the local lord.

  “With the lord’s blessing, they were allowed to not only stay but even build a temple on his lands. Though, ruffled it the feathers of his liege lord, the local daimyō, the kokujin managed to explain it away with that it was just another kami amongst many.

  “From there, their faith spread, slowly at first and then faster and faster until it came to a standstill.

  “Even though the Church of Holy Light had initially gained favour with local lords, they… were swiftly removed from their positions when the shōgun learned of their abandonment of the kami. With it, it swiftly became clear that the native lordships and their samurai – which are often compared to knights here in the west, though it isn’t entirely accurate – were against the inclusion of Sola in the kami.

  “Still, they found favour amongst the populace. The peasants, whose rights were being trampled by the warrior caste, and the former samurai, those deemed disgraced or rather ronin, of those very lords that had been deposed. Almost a century later, people, all over the country, had either fully converted to the Church of the Holy Light, or included Sola in their otherwise pantheistic religious practices.

  “Kirigoromo, the guardian dragon of Mutsu-kuko, wasn’t overly pleased with the incursion of the Church’s missionaries, and subsequent expeditions found the winds rebelling against their ships, never to reach the island nation’s shores.

  “Still, they didn’t always oppose the Church, as it didn’t so much as interfere with the internal spread of the faith. The shōguns at the time, though, did interpret their refusal to let those ships arrive as a sign that the kami opposed the worship of Sola, and therefore tried to crack down on it.

  “One day, a charismatic young man rose up from the devotees of Sola and the Church. Furuzawa Yasuo was but a farmer’s child, a serf really, when his village was burned down by the Shōgun’s forces. He fled into the nearby mountainous wilderness, where he stumbled upon a small band of ronin. Seinaru samurai, or Holy Samurai, they called themselves.

  “They took a liking to the boy and taught him the word of the Radiant Goddess, as well as the way of the sword, kenjutsu. Yasuo resonated with their teachings, both on religion and the sword. He joined the seinaru samurai on several raids on kami shrines, during which he quickly showed that he had a cunning to match his charisma.

  “One day, after having led the band of ronin for a few years, they were scouting the outskirts of the imperial capital Ryūsei-kyō, they spotted a young girl heading up the winding mountain path wearing robes of speaking of subdued prominence. Curious, and aware of who lived at the end of the mountain path, Yasuo approached the girl and asked her why she was making her way up to the mountain shrine to become a sacrifice to the dragon.

  “Horrified, Yasuo vowed to save her, only for the young girl to become confused and politely told him to leave. He was shocked that she’d reject his kind offer and sulked away, only for him to ignore her and rush up the mountain with his loyal band of holy samurai.

  “There, beyond the torii in the entrance, was the dragon that had, unknowingly, become their foe. Kirigoromo was peacefully sleeping in their lair and when the warriors entered, they looked up in curiosity as normally, when humans entered, they wanted something from them. And gave them gifts. Those gifts were always accepted, the demands not so much. Not that it was a problem, as the local customs didn’t demand the kami to repay the prayer’s generosity.

  “When Yasuo and his band of righteous ronin brandished their swords – those famed katana from Nikkei – did the dragon growl threateningly. A threat that went unheeded, as the group of skilled warriors charged Kirigoromo. The fight couldn’t be called easy by any standard, as dragons are inherently superior one-on-one, and wind dragons are especially slippery. Still, the dragon succumbed and Yasuo stood victorious next to their cut-off head.

  “It was then that the young girl reached the mountain shrine and found them, a scene that shocked her to her core. For Princess Akiko couldn’t believe anyone would kill the guardian spirit of the empire itself. She had foolishly believed that her demand for the young man to leave her alone to her sacred task had been heeded. After all, she had only come to make an offering in hopes of receiving the kami’s blessings.

  “When Yasuo told the young girl that he was taking her to safety, she merely nodded weakly before she was led away by the dragon slaying warriors.”

  I paused as Fluminix had been digging her claws into my legs in protest since I told her the dragon was slain, as well as letting out soft, whimpering squeaks. I stroked her scales just behind her slowly growing horns, right where she liked. “I’m sorry, dear, but alas, dragons aren’t invincible. Want me to stop?”

  She stopped using my legs as a pincushion, which I took as her desire for me to continue.

  “Let’s see… Ah, right,” I said, as I found where I’d left off. “When Iwasaki Hayato, the current shōgun learned of the princess’ disappearance and the killing of the Mutsu clan’s personal kami, he immediately sent word for the army to muster. He would find and free the princess and avenge the dragon, lest he’d lose his honour and his clan Emperor Eiji’s favour.

  “For, you see, while the Church had been very successful amongst the lower caste and the disgraced samurai, they hadn’t actually spread all over the country, not in a significant way, at least. No, they had an even stronger card to play. Some of the daimyō, the highest of lords under the shōgun, had secretly converted. And now, with the shōgun on the warpath, they came out of the shadows.

  “Mutsu-koku was effectively split in half. The west had remained loyal to the kami, while the east had adopted the new faith.

  “Hayato failed to realise this. So, when he marched his army to where he knew the sacrilegious rebels had their hideout, he found the camp abandoned, and his army surrounded. Led by Yasuo, the army of Sola’s faithful won a crushing blow against the forces of Mutsu-koku.

  “With Hayato and his forces defeated, Yasuo was free to march on the capital, where he handed the princess safely over to Emperor Eiji. Emperor Eiji named the young man the new shōgun and offered to grant one request of his. To the surprise of many, he requested the princess’ hand in marriage.

  “It would appear that the young man had fallen in love with her during the time she had been in his company.

  “And thus, marked the end of Mutsu-koku and the start of Nikkei-koku,” I finished and closed the book.

  I had my own theory on why they were able to slay Kirigoromo, though. For one, if that was the very same dragon over the centuries that they lived there, they would have been one of the dragon monarchs. I met the dragon monarchs of that time, or at least towards the end of Kirigoromo’s supposed lifetime. None such wind dragon was amongst them.

  Secondly, dragons, just like humanoids, got stronger with age. A century-old dragon could be slain by a small band of warriors. A centuries-old dragon couldn’t even be slain with an army, let alone a few warriors.

  So, that left the only alternative remaining: they weren’t the same dragon first encountered by the Mutsu clan. Most likely, it was an inherited lair, passed on from parent to child.

  Also, they really didn’t know anything about dragon and spirits, did they? I mean, the spirits taking on animal forms could throw one’s understanding off, but dragons were nothing like spirits. Unless…

  I shook my head to dismiss the thought.

  No, it had been confirmed to me by the dragon monarchs in one of my later visits, that it was no spirit that was posing as a dragon. If it were, the mountain wouldn’t have existed for very long. They did not enjoy spirits messing with them.

  I got up to put the book away and return to my work. The break had been long enough, and I still had much to do.

  Still, I couldn't help but fall into remorse over one of my regrets. Had I not been in my centuries-long mood, I would have thought to study and write down the spells and enchantments they’d used to bind the spirits to their shrines.

  After all, the death of Kirigoromo marked the end of the era of the kami, and now, the cultural practice is lost to the annals of history.

  Now, for those nerds that care for such things, the kanji for each name: