The boy had been walking for hours. He was lost in a wide, elaborate corridor, without a ceiling, doors, or windows, with walls that scaled the sky. The starlight illuminated his path, which seemed to go on endlessly. He passed bronze statues, tiled fountains, and ashen murals. On and on he went, yet there was no end to the reverie. Drained and parched, he tarried by a fountain to drink some water. As he slurped the cool liquid, something fell out from the water spout into his hand. The boy held it up curiously against the starlight. It was a rusted old key- with a bow made in the shape of a crow's tail. With a sense of emancipation, the boy looked around and saw a heavy oak door ahead in his path. He approached it, slid the key into the keyhole, and turned the bow. The door made a threatening rumble and unbolted; the boy pushed with all his might, throwing it ajar. It was a cavernous room, which stank of death and decay. As he made his way in, the sound of bells reached him. It was a haunting knell that filled his heart with dread.
Cling clang cling cling clang cling clang cling cling clang
A series of steps led to the heart of the room. It was an amphitheater, hewn from rocks. There were pews for the audience all around, from where the ringing of the bells seemed to come. But there was not a soul in sight. The boy descended towards the center of the arena.
To his shock, he saw a man- stripped bare, and tied to a crucifix. The man raised his head as the boy approached.
Who are you? The boy asked.
The captive was silent. The face was familiar- a distant veneer, an obscure memory; a bloody visage- bruised and emaciated. But it reminded him of someone familiar.
Cling clang cling cling clang cling clang cling cling clang
Who are you? The boy inquired again.
Run! The man warned.
The boy flinched, taken aback.
Run from what?
The man raised his battered head to the skies.
Caw caw caw caw caw
An approaching danger screeched from above.
Caw caw caw caw caw
The boy looked up, seeking the source. A dark cloud descended from the ceiling; it was a murder of crows- flapping, fluttering, fanning; the rackety crows swooped down to the center of the arena—hundreds of them.
CAW CAW CAW CAW CAW
The man's eyes opened wide in terror, and he let out a piercing shriek.
The boy stumbled back and slipped on the damp floor. He fell and then clamored to his feet- climbing the steps.
The crows fell at the man- covering his entire visage- pecking at his flesh- taking chunks out; a fiendish crow bit his eyeball off. Another mutilated his genitals. The man screamed until the ravenous birds bit off his lips and cheeks. And then the scream died in a gurgle.
Cling clang cling cling clang cling clang cling cling clang
The boy backed away in horror to the entrance door and rushed out. And ran.
Who was the man?
What is this place?
Why am I here?
And-
Who am I?
Caw caw caw caw caw caw caw
The crows had followed him out of the arena, darting towards him like a giant claw, reaching for prey. The boy ran, but his body was slow and callous. And the bells. They just won't stop ringing!
Cling clang cling cling clang cling clang cling cling clang
Hope drained out of him.
Help! Someone help me!
His lips moved but made no sound.
Nobody could hear him.
Kento, a voice called out.
Kento? Was that his name?
Kento!
The murder of crows fell at him, and he felt their beaks ripping at his flesh, and he screamed, convulsing in pain.
Hands grabbed him by his shoulders and shook him.
Let me go!
Kento!
Master Kento!
Gotou: "Master Kento, please wake up!"
Kento opened his eyes and squinted. The curtains of his room were closed, but the haze of daylight came through and dappled the walls.
A middle-aged man hovered above him. At least seven feet tall, he had a strong but kind face. He picked a glass of drink from the bedstand and approached the bed; his face had regained its usual mask-like bearing.
Kento: "Gotou. how late is it?"
Gotou: "It is still early for the rest of the village. But the young master never sleeps past sunrise, just like his father. Here, I have brought your herb drink. I laced it with ginger, as you prefer. It should help you with your nightmares."
Gotou was the Chief of the Mikashita-kin household staff and was a personal attendant to Senju Mikashita, the kin-lord of Mikashita-kin and reigning Overlord of Karasuma village, and his heir- Kento. Only the Overlord's family used his name. For others, he was simply the Chief. Although the Chief was clad in the Mikashita red tunic and trousers, he stood out like a thumb. He dwarfed the tallest men in Karasuma, who were a little over six feet. Gotou was forty-two years of age and had long, ash-grey hair tied in a neat pixie bun. He was a foreigner slave whom Senju had gained from Karasuki village a year before Kento was born. In Karasuma, he had been a free man for sixteen years now. Gotou had the privilege of serving the reigning Overlord and fostering his heir.
The Chief opened the curtains and let the daylight flood in.
Kento left the bed while sipping his herb drink and walked to the main panoramic window. The sun had barely risen over the westward peak of the Youjin mountains. The summit of Chojo hill was a plateau from which rose the Karasuma citadel, housing the estates of the eight warrior kin. The eight kin-palaces faced eight due directions. The Mikashita palace, built of stone, marble, and red gravel, faced due east. The Reisui river was scarcely visible from the precipice, with the morning fog sliding down the lower slopes of the hill.
Kento: "Gotou, do dreams mean anything?"
Gotou: "I do not dream, young master. Not since my slavery began in Karasuki village, as a child laborer. But, my grandmother used to say that dreams are visions of other worlds- worlds made of fire and snow, worlds where gods walk, and where there is no hunger and pain. To be fair, my grandmother was a batty old hag. It would be unwise to take advice from her, more so, as she is long dead."
Kento smiled. Gotou always cheered him up with his grandmother's absurd stories or prophetic remarks. Meanwhile, the Chief had finished making Kento's bed and had placed fresh linen in his wardrobe. He conveyed a message from the Overlord before taking leave.
Gotou: "Ah, yes. There is a kin-assembly in the estate training grounds, after breakfast."
Kento: "What is it about?"
Gotou: "That only the Overlord knows, young master. And perhaps his wife. But I was informed that we will have some guests from the Daigaku."
Kin-lords summon kin-assemblies- to disseminate general tidings and for events specific to the kin. When the summon is circulated, the household members, staff, and servants gather at the venue assigned.
The Daigaku was an elite warriors academy in Karasuma village, undertaking advanced research and training in military subjects. Fellows of the Daigaku- including students and preceptors, formed a select branch called the Legacy Unit, which outranked the general military in status and combat ability.
Kento finished his chores, donned the red robe that Gotou had left on his bed, and stood in front of the wall mirror. He was sixteen years old, five foot seven, with eyes as green as emeralds. He had a square jawline like his father and a mop of fuzzy, dark hair like his mother. His hair sprouted so fast that he had to shear them every week. Kento walked down the corridor to his little brother- Nagumo's room, which was on the same level as his. The Mikashita palace had five unabridged floors apart from the terrace. The fourth floor housed the major branch of Mikashita-kin- Senju, his wife Mitsu, Kento, and Nagumo. The third and second floors domiciled the secondary and tertiary branches of the kin. Blood or marriage related to all the members of kin. The first floor carried the kitchens, storage rooms, and the dining hall. The ground floor had the offices of the Kin-lord and other bureaus of the kin. The weapon shed and barracks were in a separate edifice outside the palace.
The lady of the household, Mitsu Mikashita, was helping her younger son preen and dress up. Kento went into a quick huddle with his family. A former commander of the legacy unit of Daigaku, Mitsu looked intimidating to the unfamiliar eye. She was lean, sinewy, and looked younger for her age of thirty-two years.
Kento: "What is the kin-assembly for, mother?"
Mitsu: "I would rather not spoil the surprise, dear. This is a couple of years in advance, but we have had good returns from missions and new trade talks with other villages are in the pipeline. Your father has expedited the events and will announce his plans today, to all kin-subjects."
Kento had no idea what his mother was being secretive about. In fact, he had developed the habit of numbing his faculties when either of his parents or his uncles started talking about meatier topics like citadel events, kin finances, inter-village trade, etcetera. It would inevitably lead to a discourse on how they had great expectations of the Mikashita heir. Kento concluded that it would be less of a hassle to learn the news from the assembly than to elicit anything from Mitsu. He ruffled his little brother's hair locks, and they headed for the training grounds.
