It is early evening when your journey at last comes to an end. The sun dips towards the horizon, the world paints itself in shades of russet and crimson, and in the shadows of the valley ahead the lights of Tsuma glitter like diamonds. All across the convoy, heads lift and spines straighten, pride and dignity warring against all the fatigue of a long day's ride in hopes of forging some kind of respectable appearance from your kin. Here, in foreign lands, beneath the judgemental eyes of foreign lords, such things are more important than ever.
Ripple lets out a soft whinny of disapproval, as though reading the direction of your thoughts in the grip of your thighs, and with a rueful laugh you pat her on the side of the neck. Your horse has always been uncannily perceptive, able to read your moods better than the finest courtier, and you suppose the chastising sentiment expressed in her snort is one that you well deserve. The samurai of the Crane are not
foreign, after all. Just because they live in distant lands and follow strange codes and speak a variant dialect of the language does not make them a different people. Just… one clan among many, united by shared culture and the divine governance of the Son of Heaven.
"You're drifting again," Mother says, and you snap your gaze away from the horizon in instinctive reflex before you can properly read the light-hearted nature of her tone, "I trust you'll be more focused when the tournament begins?"
You duck your head, fighting to control your flush. You're a blooded warrior, now, a graduate of the Moto school, mere days away from your formal oaths to Clan and Emperor. You should be past the point of being so embarrassed at an errant comment.
"Of course, Mother," you say awkwardly, keeping your eyes on the road, "I won't let you down."
Mother sighs, and for a moment you think she will let the matter rest. The steady, rhythmic thump of hooves lulls you into complacency, set in counterpoint to the creaking of leather and the murmured conversations of two dozen riders. Three weeks it has taken you to get this far, setting out from your own lands as soon as the last of the winter snows melted enough to permit passage, and already the warmth of spring is beginning to blanket the land. The buzz of insects fills the air, replacing the distant work-songs of the peasants toiling in their fields.
"Sarnai," Mother says, her voice stern, "Look at me."
A direct order from your parent is not one that you have ever been able to disobey, and like iron to the lodestone your gaze lifts to rest upon the woman riding at your side. Moto Rurame, Lady of Red Banners, makes for a deceptively thin looking figure. Flowing purple robes of silk and cotton hide the broad shoulders and whipcord muscles you know she possesses, hide the network of scars from soft-hearted eyes, make her look almost courtly atop her coal-black mare. Eyes as pale as ice study you from the sunken depths of a weather-worn face, and if the light of the setting sun hints at hot blood across her cheeks, you know better than to let your own gaze linger. This is one of the greatest heroes of your people, the rider who has led the Moto to a string of bloody victories longer than your arm, and if she reads even the slightest hint of imagined disrespect in your eyes no amount of blood shared or shed will save you from the consequences.
"Sarnai, you don't have to reassure me of such things," Mother says quietly, seeking something you cannot name in your eyes, "you are my daughter. You will do well. On this, everyone agrees. What matters is that you prove the quality we both know you suggest in the eyes of the others. In
his eyes."
You nod, fractionally, knowing of what she speaks. The Topaz Championship is, in theory, nothing more than a particularly elaborate graduation ceremony for the best and brightest of the latest generation of samurai. You will compete with your peers from other Clans, demonstrate your honour and your quality, and prove once again that the ways of the Moto are equal or superior to those of any other family. This, in and of itself, is not a source of concern. You have already passed the trials that your own family requires of its samurai; the formal ceremony at the end of the Championship is just that, a formality.
No, what truly matters here is not your own performance, but how it comes across in the eyes of others. Outside Tsume sits the academy of the Kakita family, and through long tradition and the benefits of an Imperial bride the Topaz Championship frequently draws observers from the very highest strata of society. Family daimyos, Jewelled Champions… even the Emperor himself, more years than not. To succeed in front of such an audience is to make your name and open up paths for the future that might otherwise be forever out of reach. To fail…
You will not fail.
"Camp sighted!" The call comes down the line, passed from one smiling face to another, and at the sound you cannot help but feel cheered in turn. Three weeks on the road is nothing, in comparison to the great odysseys of your ancestors, but three weeks without being able to set up a proper tent or otherwise make recourse to the traditions of your own people has worn on you more than you might otherwise like to admit. Tents would imply that the hospitality of your neighbours was lacking, travel-songs would be taken amiss by those who do not know the words, some decent meat would be half a step shy of cannibalism…
Your mother has spoken before of a vague wish to just leave everything behind and ride off across the horizon. Some days, you are less opposed to such dereliction than you otherwise might be.
"Perfection," Mother says in satisfaction, guiding her horse off the road alongside the rest of the column. The array of tents and cooking pits spread out in front of you threaten to drive a spike of homesickness into your heart, but it is the sight of smiling kin emerging from within that reminds you of a more fundamental truth; home is in the blood and the breath, not the land. "Sarnai, let me take care of Ripple. Why don't you go and explore the town?"
You glance over at mother in surprise, then turn your attention towards the town just half a mile down the track. The collection of red and white buildings looks inviting enough, you have to admit, and you do want to see what a town of the Crane actually looks like up close, but is it truly acceptable to wander off without your kin so soon after arriving?
"Sarnai…" Mother says, and you realise in a start that the suggestion was not, in fact, a suggestion. With a startled yelp that you will deny making until your dying day you dismount, pat your horse in fond farewell, and stride away down the road. You are a dozen paces into your departure before you realise that maybe you should have gotten some more detailed instructions or double-checked that your reading of her intent was correct, but… well, too late now. Onwards, to new horizons!
Tsume is built without walls, and so the first thing you notice are the farmers, coming home from a long day of work in the rice paddies and fields surrounding the town. Their backs are bent and their brows are beaded with sweat, but they are smiling, and exchanging banter with their peers, so you suppose the lords here must not be too harsh. Perhaps subjecting the lower classes to untold misery would make them look bad in the eyes of the frequent visitors of higher status, or perhaps they genuinely remember that compassion is one of the tenets of your shared code… either way, you are glad for it. The sight of the peasants using smaller, less well maintained paths to enter the town in order to avoid interrupting your journey on the main thoroughfare is less welcome, but on the grand scale of things you suppose it is a minor sin.
The second thing that catches your attention, coming to mind as soon as you enter the town itself, is the smell. Every settlement of any size has its own distinctive smell, even the ones with the good sense to site the tanneries and cess-pits downwind from the residential districts, but in Tsume that natural melange of smells has been overridden by deliberate, concentrated effort. You can smell flowers and fresh cut grass, incense and cooking oil… but nothing more, the less savory parts of the town hidden from sight and scent alike. You cannot even begin to imagine how the Crane managed to accomplish such a thing, but there it is.
And then you are into the town proper, and it is the people that catch your eyes. The samurai, specifically, for while the blue and white clothing of the Crane dominates the scene, even the most casual glance brings more clans and organisations to your attention than you have ever seen in a single place before. A pair of Lions, resplendent in gold and yellow, march down the street with arms resting near the hilt of their swords. A priest of the Phoenix prays before the diminutive form of a roadside shrine, his red robes mirroring the skies above. And further down the road… yes, the rich emerald green of men and women sworn into the service of the Emperor himself, doubtless sent to prepare the way for your shared master before he arrives sometime in the next few days.
...you should find something to occupy yourself, for while walking around with wide eyes and an innocent heart would be deeply satisfying, it also invites mockery and unwelcome attention. Several options immediately occur to you, any of which would seem like a plausible route forwards.
You have arrived in Tsuma. Somewhere around here are likely to be your rivals in the upcoming tournament, who you will likely encounter in various capacities before the contests begin, but first you must decide what to do next. Choose one of the options below.
[ ] Find a temple. It is said that somewhere near here is the hill where the Eight Kami first held their contest of arms, through which they determined who would rule over all of Rokugan. There is doubtless a temple in the area, which you should visit. Perhaps some of your rivals from the more spiritual clans can be found doing likewise…
[ ] Find a bathhouse. You have had a long, hard journey to get here, and you could most assuredly do with a chance to wash and relax. A hot spring or a sauna sound absolutely divine right about now, and you may well encounter some of your rivals from the more distant clans within, for much the same reason.
[ ] Find the school. Somewhere near Tsuma is supposed to lie the main academy for students training in the Kakita style, and while you are not a Crane nor even half as obsessed as they with dueling, it is always good to see your opponents in action before facing them across a field. Likely your more martial rivals will feel similarly.