Chapter 29: EDRIC
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Day [31/40]
Time Remaining Until Execution: [21 Days]
The Shogun''s official herald sat behind a table, reading from a scroll with an air of self-importance that made my eye twitch.
A sweaty, obese man, his robes strained at the seams, threatening to burst at any moment. He was nothing more than a messenger with blustering arrogance, failing to conceal his incompetence, reminding me of countless wannabe high-rollers I''d encountered at the poker tables in Vegas. His pudgy fingers fumbled with the scroll as he cleared his throat, preparing to deliver what I was sure he thought was earth-shattering news. I couldn''t help but roll my eyes, exhausted by his presence and the charade of authority.
“Lady Ember, by the order of the Lord Shogun, I have been sent to offer you a proposal. In his infinite wisdom and benevolence, our Lord Shogun understands the delicate nature of the current political climate and seeks to avoid unnecessary conflict. In light of this, he extends an olive branch.
The Lord Shogun is willing to negotiate terms to secure your release and ensure the safety of those you represent. In return, he requests a cessation of hostilities and a commitment to resolve this matter through peaceful dialogue."
I watched him pause, his eyes darting to my face as he cleared his throat and pretended to cough. It was a transparent attempt to read my reaction.
My face remained an impassive mask, and my eyes bore into him without betraying a hint of emotion. The silence stretched between us, thick and uncomfortable—for him. He shifted his weight, clearly unnerved by my lack of response. Finally, unable to maintain the charade any longer, he coughed for real this time. Composing himself, he straightened his shoulders and continued his little speech, his voice a touch less confident than before.
"This is an opportunity to end this strife without further bloodshed. The Lord Shogun believes such a resolution is in all parties'' best interest. I urge you to consider this offer carefully, for it may be the only chance to avert a war that would bring suffering to countless innocents.”
After a week of fresh air and freedom, the cell felt more oppressive than ever. The breakfast slop, untouched on the tray, reminded me how much I missed Hikari’s cooking. My decoy endured this miserable existence while I roamed freely as a Ninja vigilante.
I hope the twins are pampering her right now.
Taikumi gave me one clear objective—to make the Shogun furious, which I was more than happy to oblige. After every “proposal,” I promptly told him to go fuck himself. When he didn’t understand, I explained it to him in biological terms, complete with animal examples.
The herald’s face twisted in exasperation.
“Enough of your insolence, girl! Do you think you can mock the Lord Shogun’s authority with impunity? Do you know the mercy he’s showing you? You’re nothing more than a prisoner—a mere thorn in his side—yet he extends his hand in peace. You’d do well to remember your place!"
He caught his breath.
“The Lord Shogun’s patience is not infinite nor mine! If you continue defying him, you’ll see how quickly his mercy can turn to wrath. Do you think you can stand against the full might of the Samurai faction? You’re a fool if you believe that—”
“Excuse me. I now have something to say.”
“I see you’ve come to your senses. Go on.”
“Actually, it’s a question. What’s up with the Shogun… sorry… Lord Shogun’s wife? I heard she’s… you know…”
He slammed his fist on the table, spilling ink everywhere.
“You think you can outlast me with such nonsense, girl?”
“Okay, how’s this? Imagine you’re a donkey, and you took your raging—”
“Shut up!” he overturned the table.
The cell door opened with a screech, and the herald’s demeanor instantly shifted. Stepping back with an expression between exasperation and defeat, he bowed.
“You have a visitor,” he said.
Jon Deerfoot entered the cell.
Oh good, someone else that can go fuck himself.
“Ember, my dear, it’s been a while.”
My heart slammed into the pit of my stomach as another figure stepped through the door.
“His Excellency Overlord Edric,” Jon introduced.
Name: Overlord Edric [Arch Dealer]
Tier: VII [Obsidian] Rank ???
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Faction: Emperor [Overlord] Leader
“Leave us,” Edric commanded. Jon followed the herald and guards out of the room.
Overlord Edric stepped back from the bars. He stood taller than I remembered, with the same bald, pockmarked head. His face was all sharp angles—high cheekbones and a chiseled jawline. But his eyes glowed bright purple, tinged with wisps of smoke.
We locked eyes in a stare-down, triggering memories of our first encounter.
“What do you want?” I flinched first.
“Ah, the renowned Raishoto, a technical marvel—or so they say. I am afraid this city is more of a wondrous disappointment, would you not agree?” Smirking at my silence, he continued, “Do you know why I am here?”
“No.”
“A Jingozi exhibition. My dear friend Tokugawa requested the games, and the Jingozi agreed. Such a contemptuous fool, even before he became Shogun.”
It was impossible to guess the Emperor''s age—the same for the Shogun. The complete aesthetic effects of Zii were still a mystery. If I became more youthful with every tier, faction leaders could be a century old for all I knew.
The Emperor wore the same deep purple robe with gold patterns, but I could never forget the heavy rings on his hands. What struck me was the overpowering scent of cologne. It was a heavy, musky fragrance so intense I nearly coughed.
“I avoid such self-indulgent affairs,” Edric continued. “But imagine my surprise when I heard a redheaded defector had escaped my capture, only to end up embroiled in a plot to overthrow the Shogun.”
My teeth clenched.
“Oh, don''t look so dour. Your secret is safe… for now. The enemy of my enemy is my friend. Have you ever heard that expression? Where I''m from, I never paid it much heed, but here…” He leaned forward, almost pressing his face through the bars. “I digress. My real motivation is to apologize—to you.”
I looked up, confused.
“If I had known, I would have let you go myself,” he gave a slight regal bow, then turned his back. “Therefore, I hope you forgive this grievance and terrible misunderstanding.”
“Um, apology accepted?” I injected as much sarcasm as possible.
The Emperor swiveled and held his stare again. A different kind of smile crept over his face.
“Good. Suppose we are now friends?”
I almost spat in his face.
“Guards! I am absconding with your prisoner for the afternoon,” Edric barked. “And tell that Shogun curmudgeon I will not take no for an answer.”
He wrinkled his nose, noticing the tray of food in the corner.
“And fetch something proper to eat for this poor girl!”
***
I sat in the plush, cushioned seat of an armored carriage. Overlord Edric, across from me as we rode through the city. Outside, three dozen guards marched in formation.
The carriage’s interior was lavish, with rich fabrics and detailed woodwork. A spread of delicacies—meat pies, pastries, cheeses, and slices of bread—was placed on the small table between us.
“Not hungry?” Edric asked. “It''s a taste of the North, far removed from the simplicity of whatever they call food here.”
I glanced at the tray but kept my hands folded in my lap.
“I’m good, thanks.”
“You misunderstand, Ember. It was not a question. It would be a shame for such fine food to go to waste.” he picked up a small meat pie.
I tensed as Edric''s words sank in. It wasn''t a polite offer but a command. My eyes darted from his face to the meat pie he held, my stomach churning. The smell of meat filled my nostrils as he pressed the pastry to my lips with an expectant gaze.
I parted my lips and took a small, reluctant bite. The flavors exploded on my tongue—savory, warm, and undeniably delicious—but I could barely appreciate them. I chewed slowly, hyper-aware of Edric''s satisfied grin as he watched me eat. The act felt intimate and invasive—a bizarre powerplay.
“Here’s what you must know, my dear Ember. A fundamental difference exists between the Samurai and the Emperor factions. The Samurai adhere to a barbaric honor system rooted in feudal times. They cling to antiquated traditions, enforcing their will through brute strength and fear.”
He wasn’t wrong.
“In contrast, my faction seeks to build a civilization based on trade and commerce,” he continued. “We believe in the power of diplomacy and economic vitality to bring true prosperity.”
His eyes narrowed as he popped a cheese cube into his mouth.
“But make no mistake, Ember. No room currently exists for the Shogunate anymore. Their ways are dying, and their presence hinders the progress we seek. The sooner the Samurai fall, the sooner true peace can come to these lands.”
Despite the polished rhetoric, Overlord Edric’s ambitions were driven by more than a desire for a better world.
In other words, he was full of shit, and we both knew it.
***
The carriage stopped, and Edric signaled for me to follow him. As we stepped out, I was met with cool, damp air from an underground passage. Half his entourage escorted us through a series of tunnels, the sound of distant cheering growing louder with each step. Before long, we emerged into a massive underground arena.
Peasants lined the entrance, their clothes tattered and faces gaunt, begging for food or any act of charity. With a subtle signal from Edric, Jon handed out coins with a practiced smile.
We pressed on, delving deeper into the heart of the arena. Entering the main hall, the cacophony of voices swelled with each step. My eyes widened, taking in the vast space before me. Three oversized tables dominated the center, arranged in a perfect triangle that reminded me of the high-stakes poker tournaments on TV. But this was different, more primal.
At each table, six players sat engrossed in the cards-only version of Jingozi. Every faction was represented: Ninja, Golem, Samurai, Monk, Amazon, and Emperor. The Amazon grabbed my attention first. Her dark, fierce beauty was captivating, living up to the faction’s reputation.
The crowd swarmed around the action like hungry wolves, their voices a constant hum of bets and speculation. I watched as weathered hands exchanged coins and crumpled notes. Wisps of pungent smoke curled from long, ornate pipes clutched in jittery fingers. The mingled scents of tobacco, sweat, and desperation clung to everything, a heady perfume that made my head spin. I could feel the energy of the place, electric yet dangerous.
The Ninja player at the closest table gave me a knowing glance before averting his eyes.
A humongous flat crystal hovered above each table like a jumbotron, showcasing the action and making it easy for the spectators to keep track of the game. Three commentators—a human, an elf, and a clay Demi-Golem—were projected onto smaller crystals. And although I understood every word, I assumed each spoke a different language, translated in real time for the diverse audience. The human commentator’s voice was deep and booming, the elf’s was melodic and precise, and the Golem''s voice vibrated with a gravelly rumble.
“What you see is no ordinary game of cards,” Edric said. “Some say this is where the true political might of the people is won or lost. The Jingozi dismiss it as beneath them, but they turn a blind eye at their peril. Here, alliances are forged, and rivalries are deepened.”
The Amazon player made her move, cards flashing with power, and won the hand. The crowd erupted in cheers and gasps as she raked in the pile of Zii in the pot. The Emperor player, a young man in a purple tunic, caught Edric glaring his way. He shrank in his chair, sweat glistening on his clammy face.
“This is more than a game, Ember. It’s a reflection of all our dimensions.”
For the first time, I could relate. It was a world I understood more than anything.
Edric leaned in so close my skin crawled.
“Now, indulge me as I demonstrate true power.”