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Honorless (Feudalpunk)
May. 21st, 2008 07:34 pmOkaru began to feel the trembling as he hailed a taxi. It was dishonorable to be seen without being in control, and so he forced himself to stop.
“To the Chushingura Teahouse, ronin.” The man pulling the cart inclined his head slightly, and started pulling, gradually merging into city traffic – hand carts, pedestrians, a few horses, and the new driverless carts. By imperial decree, only those that had were honored could travel on horses – the lesser samurai used handcarts pulled by others, and the peasants that had no honor at all were using carts that moved on their own. It was a just system, he mused, where those without honor could still travel efficiently, but had no one to serve them, and those that had honor were moved by others.
“We are here, sir.” The ronin said quietly, and Okaru stepped off the cart quickly, entering the building and waving the secretaries aside as he made for the lord’s offices. When he met the lord’s samurai, though, his demeanor changed suddenly, and he humbly submitted to the routine questions before being ushered into the chamber.
“I have done the deed, Lord Kisaru. Your honor is clean.” The young samurai went down on one knee before his master, his business suit creasing neatly at the knees, the katana sweeping out behind him.
“Very well. Did he scream as you cut him from belly to neck?” Lord Kisaru spoke in a steady voice, as steady as rock.
Okaru paused for a moment and looked down, only to see his hands start to tremble once more. “I…he did not scream, master.”
Lord Kisaru narrowed his eyes and made a swift cutting gesture as he rose to his feet, and his samurai acted quickly, pulling Okaru back and drawing out his katana, which gleamed.
“It is clean, Okaru…you have failed me. You acted with dishonor…you used one of the new devil-fire weapons, didn’t you?” His words were still even, but there was an edge to them now.
“I…I…it was fast-“
“It was without honor.” Lord Kisaru made a small motion with his hand, and before Okaru could react, he found his entrails spilling out onto the ground. He tried desperately not to scream, but it tore itself out of his throat….and ceased abruptly, as his head flew across the room.
“To the Chushingura Teahouse, ronin.” The man pulling the cart inclined his head slightly, and started pulling, gradually merging into city traffic – hand carts, pedestrians, a few horses, and the new driverless carts. By imperial decree, only those that had were honored could travel on horses – the lesser samurai used handcarts pulled by others, and the peasants that had no honor at all were using carts that moved on their own. It was a just system, he mused, where those without honor could still travel efficiently, but had no one to serve them, and those that had honor were moved by others.
“We are here, sir.” The ronin said quietly, and Okaru stepped off the cart quickly, entering the building and waving the secretaries aside as he made for the lord’s offices. When he met the lord’s samurai, though, his demeanor changed suddenly, and he humbly submitted to the routine questions before being ushered into the chamber.
“I have done the deed, Lord Kisaru. Your honor is clean.” The young samurai went down on one knee before his master, his business suit creasing neatly at the knees, the katana sweeping out behind him.
“Very well. Did he scream as you cut him from belly to neck?” Lord Kisaru spoke in a steady voice, as steady as rock.
Okaru paused for a moment and looked down, only to see his hands start to tremble once more. “I…he did not scream, master.”
Lord Kisaru narrowed his eyes and made a swift cutting gesture as he rose to his feet, and his samurai acted quickly, pulling Okaru back and drawing out his katana, which gleamed.
“It is clean, Okaru…you have failed me. You acted with dishonor…you used one of the new devil-fire weapons, didn’t you?” His words were still even, but there was an edge to them now.
“I…I…it was fast-“
“It was without honor.” Lord Kisaru made a small motion with his hand, and before Okaru could react, he found his entrails spilling out onto the ground. He tried desperately not to scream, but it tore itself out of his throat….and ceased abruptly, as his head flew across the room.
