EngelReise - Chapter 1

Prologue < | > Chapter 2
About a year following the Swats-Imperyean War, the islands of Imperyea stand weak as a Swatslandic possession. Amongst those living under Swatslandic rule are those such as Tomako Angel--a horseback rider and trainer. With two physically declining parents, and being an only child, Tomako is the biggest force behind the success of their farm, though her father seems to disagree based on her gender. Part of her job in the family finds her conducting trade agreements with Otomo—a former samurai warrior. One particular day, on her way to conduct such an agreement with the man, she witnesses something truly horrifying while traveling to the village of Boshtang, as such, her father's unfair treatment becomes competition to a whole new problem...
==Chapter Reading==
== Chapter 1 – Tomako Angel =
Kushyrin—the most western island of five that made up Imperyea. While not the largest island of the five, it was perhaps the second or third most significant for its higher population, geographic position in relation to mainland Shimua, and higher production of agricultural goods. Unfortunately, the times were not good for the island of Kushyrin even nearly three years after Swats-Imperyean War. The fall of the Imperyean Empire and the establishment of the Swatslandic Viceroyalty of Imperyea meant a crackdown on culture, faith, and various opportunities to climb up in society. Above all, the secret People of the Crop edict had many Imperyean farming families disappearing, effectively damaging the economy of Kushyrin in the process.
The Swatslandic Empire's successful takeover of Imperyea—two lands existing on different sides of the world—cemented the idea that Swatsland was the dominant colonial power in Svatpa, if not also the world’s superpower. If an empire based in Svatpa could successfully defeat and occupy another empire on the other side of the map, no land was safe of their reach. It was a golden age in Swatsland’s history, but some of the darkest for Imperyea’s own.
Many Imperyeans would try and escape this period of Swatslandic occupation through religion, arts, or by retreating to the mountains. Those who chose to live in the reality of a Swatslandic occupation realized that a Swatslandic Imperyea meant much more than changes in the law. With the arrival of Swatslandic aristocrats, generals, soldiers, clergymen, and bureaucrats, the days of old Imperyea were changing fast, for better or worse. By popular Imperyean opinion, it was for the worse.
One thing was for certain. With the Swatslandic walking over the once mighty Imperyean Empire, the rest of Shimua was watching with great paranoia, standing ready for possible Swatslandic expansion. For now, it was the Imperyeans who had to cope with their new masters, even years after the war.
Located in the northern region of Kushyrin was an isolated farm of great status. The house and connected structures were large and the acres it controlled vast. This farm was headed by the Angel House, a renowned and valuable farming dynasty credited as one of the first modern Imperyean farms on the island. Evidently, the large property meant this farm produced twice as much as most farms of Imperyea. The Angel House, while valuable, was not rich. Yet by farming standards, the family was not living in poverty either. Although the Angel House had been prospering for almost two centuries, it was this decade that brought about the best fortune because of the high performing horses the farm produced, even with the Swatslandic harassing their earnings.
Credit for the quality horses could be given to their sole handler, one who treated each one with great love and admiration. One with dreams to eventually leave behind field work and train horses until the end of days.
A horse came galloping over a hill alongside the farm’s household. Atop it was its handler; a woman, close to thirty, with straight black hair and brown eyes. On her person was a common brown tunic, lesser brown stitched pants, and brown boots to help combat the filth that came with a farm. Tomako Angel was the name of this horseback rider, the only child of the Angel House.
Early that morning Tomako and her horse came speeding along some rough terrain just outside of the homestead. The speeding animal was giving it all it could while Tomako held on with a look of determination. The Imperyean had many daily chores in her life; this was the first chore of every day and in fact her favorite.
The Angel House had been blessed with their first and final child, Tomako, who blossomed into what many would consider an equestrian elite, though she dismissed this concept as overly prestigious and for the most part untrue. Her heart belonged in part to family, in part to honor, and in part to animal husbandry. Her life ambition, however, was to one day become a full-time horse trainer. From her point of view, the horse was as much a friend as they were a partner; to put a saddle and shoes on a horse was to form a contract with it. In short, Tomako viewed these creatures as resourceful and honorable animal companions, not slaves she could assert herself over.
In time, the Imperyean’s long hair would cease its flowing as she returned to the stables and dismounted. She looked back to the hills and beamed, sad that the ride was over but satisfied overall with the experience.
“Incredible horse!” she commended with love. “You finished your exercise before the sun could rise over the hill.”
A few moments were taken to remove Tomako’s personalized purple saddle. After doing this, the horse was reluctantly put away for the day. Another three horses would endure the same training throughout the day, all others would train another day per schedule.
With a feeling of pride in both her work and the horse, Tomako stepped out from the stables and looked up at the morning sky. As she had claimed, training went especially fast for this horse, thus leaving her ahead of schedule. This was perhaps the best gift she could ask for on a regular day, for this meant two things. Firstly, it meant she could enjoy a break with the time she saved. Secondly, and more importantly, being ahead of schedule meant that it was a horse of high quality, by extension, of high value. Now in the inevitable event that a buyer comes looking for a fast horse, she knew exactly which one to point to. A horse of such speed and strength would fetch a fine number of coins. Racing, cavalry, or even just a regular mount; such a horse would serve anyone well.
Tomako entered the two-story house with a radiant smile as her hair continued to tingle from the constant whipping it endured on the ride. Any ordinary person would take one look at the girl’s face and think her to be lovestruck when in reality she was simply showering herself with praise and fantasies.
The house was dark but with a warm interior. The room in which she personally resided was up a ladder, but in this case, she was merely taking a break or rather taking the extra time to prepare for her next task, as there would be many to come.
The young woman kicked her boots down near the entrance to rid her soles of any dirt before proceeding forward. Without a sound, Tomako's mother—Togami Angel—stepped up near the woman's path. Without stopping, Tomako offered a brief bow of respect and vice versa. Togami, unlike Tomako, was attired in a more ladylike attire, that is, many layers of thin purples and blues from neck to toe. She aided in the easier farm work and was a very friendly sort, unlike...
“Tomako!” a deep voice summoned.
As though she had the means to teleport, Tomako suddenly found herself in the living room and on her knees in submission. Far overweight and with little hair left, the head of the Angel House was on the floor facing an art canvas. Soga Angel, father to Tomako, husband to Togami, and final male member of the household. He had become a very bitter individual through the last two decades. No longer fit to work, an Imperyean nationalist in a Swatslandic occupied country, and apparently infertile; he was not a pleasant sort. Unfortunately, Tomako was so often, if not always, where he channeled his bitterness toward.
“Yes, Father.”
The man raised a black-tipped paintbrush, continuing to work on an emotionally driven piece. “Why—y have you returned so early?” he lectured.
Tomako was without expression as she explained, “The stallion I was riding, he finished at an extraordinary time. He is a marvel of a horse who bested a waking sun. We will make an immense profit from him, Father.”
Soga performed a series of fast brushstrokes over the canvas, creating sharp terrain in pure black. “Then why are you not training another?”
“I may have finished early, but there is still little time to take another house out for a run. To do so would coincide with my next task, thus disrupting the schedule you carefully made -”
“Ba—ah..!” He threw a hand up into the air, ordering her to cease talking. “You are lazy!” he argued.
Tomako dropped her jaw a fair amount but refrained from grunting. Instead, she took a bow on her knees. “Very well, Father. I will respect your opinion, of course, I hope you understand that I can work only so much, so fast, and so efficiently under the time that the gods permit in a day.”
Tomako puckered her bottom lip and tilted her head, waiting for any sign of reason from the man. He was at least quiet for a time in what would appear to be a sign of understanding; in truth, he was only distracted by the terrain he was making.
“You are lazy...” he reasserted.
She again bowed, “Very well.”
“A son would have two horses trained each period of the day.”
Although unspeakably offensive to her, she swallowed the criticism whole and repeated, “Very well.”
“A son would have fought the Swatslandic invaders and perhaps stopped our sacred land from falling!” The daughter frowned, this time not speaking. “A son would manage both the fields and the animals without breaking a sweat.” She continued to dip her head down with an even bigger frown. “And above all, a son would not allow this farm to fall out of the hands of the Angel family!” Tomako had dipped her head down so much at this point that her chin sank between her collarbones. “You cannot keep our family growing. Once I die, the dream of keeping the Angel tree alive goes with me. Within the next few decades, this farm which our family has been developing for centuries will belong to another—less deserving—dynasty. All because you are not a man who can carry the Angel name!”
Tomako closed her eyes and proceeded to think. She was the youngest member of the Angel family, with only three existing Angels still alive. Tomako, Soga, and Togami. With the only remaining male infertile, there was no possible way of bearing a son; at least not without a matrilineal marriage, where children inherit the mother's dynasty. Such a marriage existed only through royalty. There was no escape from this reality, Tomako would be the last living Angel and ultimately become the last Angel to own this farm. If she were to wed, this farm would belong to her husband’s House, not her own.
To add salt to the wound, this was a reality Soga reminded her of regularly. He always felt the need to remind her that her gender was the nail in the Angel coffin.
“Okay,” she finally answered. “I will respect your opinion on... me... while also respecting nature's reasoning for disallowing you a son.” Soga tightened his grasp of the brush, somewhat provoked by this comment. “With that being said, I will continue to service mother and father like royalty, even if doing so takes away my freedom to live life as I've desired.”
Soga chuckled while continuing to paint, “I would like to believe that while in your mother's womb, you murdered an intended male before he could be born so that you could take his place and live the life you desire.”
“I would never do such a thing!”
“Aha! So, you are willing to testify against your only father...”
Tomako's eyes darted around the room along with a quirked mouth. Soon enough, she looked out the window and spotted the risen sun. This would be her method of escape.
With a bow, Tomako acknowledged, “With all due respect to you and your wise opinions, I must soon take leave if I am to return home with a good trade.”
Soga pointed back at her with his brush, “Begone, child. Very distracting.”
The young woman had been unintentionally splashed by black ink. She reacted to this by closing one eye, then wiping the ink off her cheek while nodding. She turned away and entered the kitchen, anxious to leave her father be. Soga, silent and disgruntled, continued to paint a happy picture.
Following this conflict, Tomako washed her face over a bucket of water in the kitchen. Unknown to Tomako was that her mother stood behind her with a look of sorrow, a mother who felt for the constant harassing of Tomako over a matter that had nothing to do with her. Unfortunately, Soga was her husband and Tomako her only daughter, both of whom she felt a moral obligation to appease. This did, sadly, mean Tomako was on her own when it came to facing her father.
The daughter returned the wet rag to the bucket and after observing her reflection in a mirror, offered a grim expression to herself.
“Father hates me,” she claimed without expression, guessing her mother’s presence.
Togami smiled, “He doesn’t hate you, Tomako.”
“I am well-convinced that if I were to break my fingers and become unable to work, he would gladly abandon me to the sea.”
This led to Togami dropping her brows and lecturing, “Tomako, I’m disappointed in you…” her expression quickly changed into a positive one, “Your father supports you just as much as I or anyone else. You understand better than anyone the storm of despair always existing in his mind. You cannot blame him for being critical of his situation.”
Becoming further sad, Tomako dropped her eyelids a bit and added, “Do you remember that painting he did of the cliff boulder tragically crushing a man?”
“Yes, of course.”
“He testifies I inspired that artwork.”
Togami expressed a rare instance of anger as she looked back at the doorway for a moment, but quickly after restored her harmonic face. “Yes, well, I will testify that when curled up beside your father at night, he still speaks promising things of you.”
This did lead to Tomako opening her eyes a bit excitedly, “Really? Such as?”
“Your father acknowledges that you are of second-class Imperyean beauty and as such should belong only to a first or second-class husband.” Tomako awaited further claims. “He… recently claimed your hardworking character will result in a hardworking son.”
Ironically, this second claim had an opposing effect on Tomako, who crossed her arms and complained, “I find this hard to believe when he so recently accused me of being lazy.”
“Yes, but…” Togami let out a frustrated sigh, “I promise there is a positive side. I simply cannot help that you are exposed only to the negative side nowadays, but there is a positive side.”
The daughter turned away and mindlessly slapped around a counter, “I will keep that in mind the next time Father decides to stress my soul.”
A moment of silence came between the two with Togami thinking hard on how to cheer her daughter up while not betraying her husband. The solution, in her mind, was easy albeit only temporary.
“Come now, Tomako. There’s much to smile about.” She tilted her head a bit at her daughter. “Your father and I—along with most of Kushyrin—agree that the horses you produce are the greatest. They are bred by their own will and given unconditional love that makes them the most passionate and enthusiastic in the world. Your horses love you.”
Try as Tomako did to retain a stone face, this claim did successfully have her raising her cheeks a bit with struggling joy.
“Yes,” was her simple response.
Togami dug deeper, “What of that rich Nagano boy you have an eye for?” The mere mentioning of a crush was enough to make Tomako shy up a big smile. “Are you still fancying his heart, Tomako?” An embarrassed daughter kept her eyes closed but couldn’t hide her small blush and smile. “Look at me.” Honoring her parent, an embarrassed Tomako faced her mother with eye contact. “Have you any thoughts still of the Nagano boy?”
“Takeda Nagano…” Tomako proceeded to cover her face with only three fingers, “I don’t know… maybe.”
“Do you wish to spend time with him? Does he make you happy?”
This question caused Tomako to sink her head down in greater embarrassment, “Mm—m… maybe… a little… I don’t see him as often anymore since he completed his education.”
“Perhaps you will see him today when you visit Boshtang.” Tomako’s smiley lips trembled in response. “Surely, a grown man who is now educated would ask for your hand should you confront him.”
The topic seemed to have dominated Tomako’s spirits, completely taking her away from the frustrations of her father. Now reddened up and with a huge lovestruck smile, Tomako moved forward with asking, “What am I offering to trade this week?”
The two thus convened as Togami unveiled a small handscroll. On it was no calligraphy, but rather, various drawings and numerals that representing livestock and food. Tomako reviewed the handscroll while making an assortment of nods.
“Remember exactly what I say,” Togami instructed. “We are offering twenty buckets of milk, seventy large sacks of grain, three barrels of fruit, and five cows to be picked up.” Tomako returned a very attentive nod. “We will accept five hundred coins minimum. Do you need me to repeat the amounts?”
“No, Mother. I'll remember,” she insisted. “I trust Otomo will make a bountiful offer.”
“Alright, Tomako.” The mother brought over a qualitative black, blue, and gold kimono dress—the cultural garb of Imperyea. “Let us dress you.”
Tomako had worn this garb many times in the past when conducting trade. As the theory went, beauty equaled flatter, which resulted in better deals. This garb was very expensive, for it was made of good material, patterned beautifully with blue leaves, and centered with a golden wrap. It was of a coincidence that this dress made up the same colors as Imperyea's national banner.
“Uh, Mother...” Tomako smiled and placed her hand on the dress. “With all due respect, Otomo and I are friends. I assure you, I no longer need to wear this when visiting him.”
This was a valid point, yet, Togami reacted in a somewhat aggressive way. “It is still respectful you do so,” she said while pushing the dress forward. Tomako took the dress with a quirked mouth and lowered brows. “Friends or not, dress up for the occasion to show that you care for your business partnership. Display that you care enough about the trade that you dress up for the occasion.”
“I suppose you are correct.”
“Not to mention, it will give you an excuse to be seen in such a beautiful dress, should you encounter Takeda.”
This was a point that had Tomako’s shy smile and raised cheeks returning, “Otomo deserves a customer who takes a deal seriously..!”
About twenty minutes later, Tomako mounted herself over a horse and faced north to the hills. Dressed in her kimono, the time was now to go and conduct trade with merchant and longtime friend, Otomo. She would not be delivering any goods, for that would come the following day. Tomako's job on this day was merely to make a trade agreement, preferably before the afternoon.
“Tomako,” her mother called. The daughter looked back to the house. “Which horse is that?”
With a gentle smile, Tomako pat the creature on the rear and explained, “I've seen this horse with varying speed. Sometimes he finishes ahead of schedule, other times he is a little slow. I am confident he will get me to Boshtang ahead of schedule.”
“Well, be careful. I saw Swatslandic horsemen out in the prairie yesterday.” This frightened the daughter. “Try and stay out of their way.”
“I intend to,” she answered strongly. Quick to get off this subject, she concluded their talk with, “Bid farewell to Father for me, please. Now, ride!”
Tomako motioned the horse and in no time trotted north. The northern shore of Kushyrin was her destination, where she would find her home village of Boshtang, respectively, the capital of this island. Considering Boshtang was only so many hills north from the Angel farm, she was unlikely to be gone for long.
Over the hills and across the plains, this morning trade run to Boshtang was as pleasant as Tomako could have hoped for. Having gone from training a horse to now riding one to town, it was a day that seemed to favor her horse passion. No shouting father, no straining physical labor, and no talk of politics. It was just a one-on-one trip between a woman and her horse. The only thing she could complain about was the kimono she had to wear, for several layers of dress on horseback was generally unpleasant.
I wonder what my parents would think if I were to have my meal in Boshtang. On one hand, I would spare Mother of cooking for me. On the other hand, I do not have permission… She brought her attention down to her horse, but only so that she could focus more on the question and not the landscape. One could further argue that I need to socialize more. Perhaps it is my responsibility to eat away from home today…
Either way, Tomako’s inner debate reached a sudden halt upon examining her horse's mane; she was shocked to have discovered something. A mysterious scar was present going down the right side of the horse’s neck. Although not harmful to the animal’s health, it was nonetheless peculiar as to what caused it.
“Wha—a..?” While still traveling, her ultimate focus would quickly shift entirely to the mysterious scar. “Was I recently carrying sharp equipment near you?”
The scar seemed to be caused by a tool, her best guess being a rake, which she did often find herself with. Inner conflict would develop at the thought of doing one of her animal companions harm even if by accident, as such, she tried to convince herself otherwise.
“No doubt the work of some mad Krucifixan bird...”
From one curiosity to another, the Angel’s attention was soon carried over to the hills ahead of her, where unmissable black smoke became visible.
Smoke? But I haven't reached Boshtang yet, have I..?
Even her horse seemed frantic as the sight and smell of fire drew close; nonetheless, they moved forward as planned. It was not uncommon for hunting parties to start large fires, but this was far too great in content to be that of a mere band of hunters. No doubt this was smoke connected with great peril.
Anxious to discover the causation of the smoke, Tomako paced the horse up the hill and past its trees, where she would discover embers alongside the smoke.
A horrendous wildfire..? was her next guess.
Atop the hill is where Tomako and her horse would reach a dramatic halt, for the source of the smoke was now revealed to them.
Before them was a farm estate—neighbors of the Angel House—so suddenly thrown into chaos.
“By the gods!” Tomako soundly panicked. “Protect the Tochowa family!” she pleaded.
The household of this farm had been besieged by great flames, the property pillaged, the cows slaughtered for meat, and the horses captured. Beside the burning estate were several Swatslandic guards, a carriage, and several units now mounted atop the captured horses. A second carriage was being loaded with meat harvested from the slaughtered cattle, wealth, and other possessions. The banner of Swatsland had been planted down before the burning farm.
For the third time, she muttered, “By the gods...”
While not a character of politics in any sense, this was the sort of Swatslandic belligerence Soga would have Tomako believing to be common. It was clear to see that the Swatslandic were sucking the farm dry of every last grain and coin it had, what remained to be discovered was what justified the sacking. Even with how much the Imperyeans loathed their Swatslandic masters, the young woman couldn't imagine this was an unwarranted act on their part. In her mind, the Tochowa House had to have committed some crime of high offense for the Swatslandic to come and take everything from them.
Regardless of the reasoning, this was happening too close to home for comfort along with a long history—both good and bad—between the Angel and Tochowa farming dynasties. Even though her mother advised against doing so, Tomako ordered her horse forward with an unquenched thirst for answers.
As Swatslandic men continued to transport goods into the second carriage, a military officer presided with legs eloquently together and one arm to his back. One of the most notable pieces of his person was the gold-hilted sabre to his waist which defined his Swatslandic social class. It wouldn’t take long for Tomako to identify him as the man in charge.
The officer moved around the burning structure to confirm that the structure was truly burning in full. At the moment to follow, his interest would shift to Tomako who soon approached him over her horse. In truth, there was little about Tomako to be excited over; however, her decision to approach him in an expensive kimono did lead to a misconception about her. From the point of view of a non-Imperyean, he would believe her to be of the nobility, especially as she traveled on her own. With the Imperyean population hostile enough, few officers would risk offending a noblewoman of the Imperyeans.
Though deeply afraid of the situation she put herself in, the woman did stop in front of the man. With a bow atop her horse, Tomako greeted, “Greetings. I am Tomako Angel of Imperyea. Daughter of Soga Angel and his wife, Togami.”
“Salutations, m'lady. How may I be of service on this beautiful morning?”
Despite the friendly exchange, Tomako couldn’t help but stand still with a taken back face. Long was it known to the world that a universal language existed. This was true, but she found the way this man spoke to be very slow, more slurred, and more aggressive in presentation. This was an awkward comparison to the quicker, quieter, and higher pitched voices of the Imperyeans.
“I see something has happened to the Tochowa family.”
The officer looked back to the blazing household and slaughtered cows, “You don’t say.”
“You see, I knew this family well, very well, in fact. They did not strike me as criminal in nature, so, If I may ask -”
She was interrupted by an answer, “His Majesty in Swatsland has issued our Viceroy Harling with an order of maintaining a balance in agricultural power in the Imperyeas. Not too efficient, not too lacking.” Tomako grunted with wide eyes yet gave a concerned nod. “The family you speak of are only some of many farmers rewarded with the exceptional opportunity to work on the farms of mainland Swatsland—in Svatpa.” He pointed back at the first carriage, which revealed the Tochowa family Tomako spoke of, all chained together in the back.
The Imperyean was left with a quivering lip of shock, “Y- You're abducting them? Slaves?”
“M'lady, slavery has not existed in Svatpa for hundreds of years now. The Swatslandic Empire is ‘drafting’ Imperyean farmers to work Svatpean farms so that we can enlist more Swatslandic soldiers. Essentially, Swatslandic farmers are being promoted into the military while Imperyean farmers are brought over to take their place. You understand my words, correct?”
Trembling, she asked, “This is legal? Do they have a say in the matter?” The officer grimaced for a moment. “With all due respect to the Swatslandic, I know the Tochowa family to have certain… sentiments about Swatsland and I do not believe they would willingly -”
“As a vassal of the Swatslandic Empire, His Highness has every right to ‘draft’ the farmers of Imperyea. I give you my word, though, that farms in Imperyea per region will remain depending on their level of output.”
Her eyes became wider, “I- I'm a farmer! Am I at risk of being taken away!?”
The man stepped away from her, “M'lady, if your precious farm continues to operate at an optimal level, it shall be spared. The keyword, being, ‘optimal.’ Not ‘great,’ but not ‘poor,’ either.”
The Imperyean was shaking to such a degree that even her horse seemed to react with confusion—unable to understand what her shaking legs meant.
“I understand...” she answered.
The officer bowed, “Very good. I wish you a safe travel.” Before Tomako could leave, the same man widened his eyes and gasped. “Oh! That reminds me.” Tomako returned her attention to him once more. “Viceroy Harling is offering a specialty this year. If you know of any Imperyeans who have organized against the stability of the Viceroyalty of Imperyea—that includes those who have inserted themselves into factions or create propaganda by means of art—you may report them to your nearest governmental office for an immediate reward of two hundred coins per offender.”
“I have no such persons in mind.”
“I see.”
With nothing more to say, he waved her off in a more offensive manner before turning back to the burning farm. Now fearing for her family, Tomako resumed her trip to Boshtang with anxiousness to complete this deal and return home. It was just as she crossed over the next hill that the burning house collapsed, leaving nothing but a foundation and broken framework. 
Horrifying as it was to see witness the annihilation of the Tochowa family farm, it did not stop Tomako from reaching her destination on time. It was a matter that would be on her mind all day, but for now, there was a trade deal to make. The trip brought her to the shoreline village of Boshtang, the most northern point of the island of Kushyrin. While she was not born in Boshtang, it was nonetheless treated as her home due to its short distance from the Angel homestead. This was only one of two villages she had ever been to in her life.
While moving through the dirt street of this village, Tomako was met with the usual few giant hornets. Giant hornets were undoubtedly the worst Boshtang had to offer its people, alas, its defining attribute as well. Aside from this, it was a superb location for merchants due to its strategic position of facing mainland Shimua and being so close to Imperyea’s largest island of Dayaking. The drawback with the former, however, was that following the Swatslandic invasion, international trade had been closed off to the public, thus allowing only Swatsland to international trade. The closure of public trade to other nations created somewhat of an economic crisis for the merchants of Kushyrin. To Tomako’s luck, this also meant merchants were more desperate for fresh goods.
Tomako’s venture through Boshtang continued. By all means, she wanted to keep an eye out for the man she fancied, Takeda Nagano, but the recent event of a scorching farm was still too commanding of her attention. Mother did mention Swatslandic horsemen were in the fields. Perhaps they already ruled off sending us away...
Suddenly, with a look of agitation and puckered lips, the woman batted this subject out of mind as she eyed up the market area of Boshtang.
“Twenty buckets of milk… seventy sacks of grain… three barrels of fruit… five cows,” she reminded herself.
A shack no larger than a tool shed sat near the water, behind it was a house of very impressive size—hardly humble compared to all the other structures in Boshtang. In this merchant shack, a fairly muscular man, bald, and with a long thin mustache sat with various merchandise. Unlike most vendors around him, this particular vendor dealt in various curiosities versus a defining product. Selling anything from weaponry to elixirs to exotic or common foods, it could best be defined as a ‘curiosity shop.’
The man was sitting with a small handscroll in one hand, a brush in the other as he passed time with writings and traditional art. The look on his face as he did so would suggest emptiness, that is until he looked up and caught a familiar kimono dress approaching. His enthusiasm boomed on the spot. There was no need to haggle with Tomako, she was practically a business partner at this point.
The woman stopped and secured her horse to the shack, to which afterward the man was approached with a smile and bow.
“Tomako Angel,” he greeted. “I saw a moving star last night as I sat in the grass. I knew it was an omen of fortune.”
“I come with an offer of supplies, Otomo.” After clearing her throat, she raised a finger and listed off the items. “Twenty buckets of milk, seventy large sacks of grain, three barrels of fruit, and five cows to be picked up.”
Otomo rubbed his hands together with great speed, “How wonderful! I've buyers that are making me chafe, for I’ve had very few suppliers help me. Your timing is sensational.”
The Angel asked in a friendly tone, “Where are the suppliers?”
“Bah! Subsistence farming has been flourishing given all the Swatslandic sanctions. Your family is one of the few remaining that understand the profits to be made.”
An optimistic Tomako smiled with a finger up, “Truly, farming for the market is the greater good if it brings money to us, money to you, and produce for the people.”
“Exactly! You understand.”
Tomako nodded, then widened her eyes after looking past his shoulder. On display and for sale was a full set of samurai armor—black, blue, and gold—along with the very purple katana that had been carried with it years back.
“Otomo! You're selling your armor and sword?”
A tireless Otomo drooped his arms down and confessed, “I must. I need to save money so that I can close deals with suppliers such as yourself. I’m left with very little money for myself. I've become desperate.”
Tomako frowned, “This breaks my heart...”
“Not that it matters, anyway. The Swatslandic have dismantled the samurai. Unless Imperyea falls under the control of Imperyeans again, I fear I will not find myself donning this again. The dream of rushing into battle against the Krucifixans again already feels like just that, a dream now out of reach.” He narrowed his eyes in disgust. “The Swatslandic intend to destroy everything that makes us Imperyean, Tomako. They, however, have deluded themselves into believing that our Puritonist faith can be replaced and that the samurai can be destroyed, when in reality…” he squinted and relaxed himself a bit, “Perhaps I should cease my words before I get us into trouble…”
Though she preferred to stay clear of this subject, Tomako couldn’t help but add, “While on the way here today, I witnessed Swatslandic soldiers burning down a farm belonging to our neighbors. They are innocent, I’m telling you.”
Otomo scoffed, “Look behind you.” Tomako took a moment to examine her surroundings, then nodded upon spotting a statue under construction. “That statue is being built in the center of this village in honor of the accursed Viceroy Harling—curses be upon his soul. It is a gift from the Imperyean people to our Swatslandic overlords.”
“T- The Imperyean people are constructing it?”
“So the Swatslandic claim. It is said to be a gift from our people to the Swatslandic, but in actuality, the statue was commissioned by the Viceroy himself—may his loved ones turn to ash alongside him.”
“Oh my...” she said to his cursing.
He lowered his brows and extended his complaints, “They violate our once proud empire with terms like ‘liberation’ and that horrendous red and black banner of theirs. Disgusting. I hope their empire in Svatpa burns. One day, I hope it is their people that suffer such humiliation as we regain our rightful place as Shimua's superpower.”
The Imperyean woman closed her eyes with a gentle smile, “Take heart, Otomo. The gods may have their reason yet for allowing this to happen. Perhaps it is leading up to some lesson that proves Imperyea cannot be conquered and the faith that is Puritonism cannot be crushed.”
“If you speak the truth, there will be much blood to eventually accompany this lesson, and even at my age I will gladly see to it!”
Tomako was left thinking about this, mostly disturbed by the idea of an Imperyean Revolution. An Imperyean and Puritonist faithful, Tomako supported such a conflict as much as anyone else, yet, she wished there was a less violent way of reacquiring their lost independence. Non-violent revolution was, unfortunately, but a dream.
The merchant chuckled with a sad face, “I apologize, I shouldn't be speaking so harshly. Especially since such treasonous words could be bad for my health...” He opened his eyes and scratched his chin, deciding it was time to move on. “So, you come with a great offer.”
The woman beamed, “I am ready to discuss an amount with you.”
Otomo closed one eye and held up a bag of coinage, then tossed it up into the air. “Hm, yes… I have a respectable amount in mind. Assuming the fruits you offer are fresh—and I suspect they are—seven hundred should be the perfect amount, with an extra fifty for the traveling expenses. Seven hundred and fifty coins are my first offer.”
Tomako was pleased. “There is no room for disagreement with that offer. I accept!” Before allowing him to reply, the woman looked away a bit sadly. “Uh, but, what if I take seven hundred and you keep fifty.”
“Are you sure?” he asked with a blank face.
She bowed, “I sympathize with your struggle and wish well upon you, Otomo. Please, save yourself some coins.”
“You are certain?”
“You save fifty coins and my pot of honor improves by result. It is more of a profitable agreement than it is charity.”
A very prolonged smirk ensued on Otomo's part, who soon shrugged. “As you know, I will not reject generosity. You say seven hundred, you get seven hundred.” Tomako leaned over the counter and shook hands with the man. “Return tomorrow with the goods, and I will have your coins.”
With the trade deal established, Tomako mounted up and departed. With giant hornets buzzing about and Swatslandic guards at every corner sniffing out dissent, her preferred location was home for the time being. A village meal and search for romance would have to wait another day. 
Two hours would pass before Tomako came up on her homestead again. In total, her trip lasted about four hours, just a little bit ahead of schedule. Again, she found herself faced with extra time to spend before getting to actual farm work. As happy as this circumstance was, seeing the charred remains of the neighboring farm on her way home brought back worrisome thoughts. The Swatslandic had yet to pester the Angel family in any way save for taxes, but apparently, even innocent farmers had reason to fear their new occupiers. By all estimates, the Angels had just as much reason to be concerned as anyone else.
She would ultimately move on with her day while keeping an eye on the Swatslandic situation, but ultimately not let it go to her head. They were safe for the time being and this is all that mattered to her at the end of the day. With the extra time she earned, there would be just enough time to take another horse out for training. After this, she would perform her farming duties, train more horses, help her mother prepare the carriage with the promised goods for Otomo, then conclude the day.
This was, for the most part, the typical day for Tomako Angel—the Imperyean horseback rider, a pious follower of Puritonism, and only child to the Angel dynasty...
To be continued...
Prologue < | > Chapter 2
==Author Notes==
====Introducing Tomako Angel====
This chapter put a very heavy weight on me, as this would be the debut of Tomako Angel--spiritual successor to F-Zero: Seppuku's Chiya Flower--and I knew that people well familiar with Chiya Flower would be looking for a character of similar qualities. The biggest challenge here was that I did not at this time have a solidly defined character in mind for Tomako aside from some of her most essential traits, and so stacking her up next to Chiya was easily intimidating to me. I started out by making clear right away that she is an animal lover--namely of the horse--and that her heart for the horse is so strong that she would go so far as to speak with them. I followed this up by demonstrating that she has a deep loyalty for her family, but that she suffers the wrath of a father who does not approve of her for reasons beyond her control. Beyond this, I sought to make clear that Tomako is a bit naïve to the world around her, setting this up in such a way that a kind of innocence radiates off her character. These were all starting points to get Tomako's character off the ground, and I felt that Tomako's character got a better start than Chiya's did. Despite this, I would find Tomako's character suffer from a lag in character development for much of Season 1, compared to Chiya, who developed more quickly and smoother than Tomako.
====Humanizing Swatsland====
One of the biggest matters in my mind in Chapter 1 was to establish that while the Swatslandic Empire were conquerors and very much unwanted by the Imperyeans, the Swatslandic people--and more directly the occupying soldiers--were not all lawless plunderers, but in fact just soldiers. When Tomako encounters a Swatslandic party in this chapter, I sought to depict the officer she spoke with as a well-mannered sort and even respecting of Tomako's position as an honest farmer and woman. At the same time, the actions of these men in performing horrific acts against an innocent farm, alongside the intense words of Otomo would ideally keep the reader in the mindset that the Swatslandic are, ultimately, the faction to root against. 
====The Slice of Life Gambit====
I knew going into Chapter 1 that I did not want the story to take off running, despite the journey being what readers come for. My vision for Chapter 1 was to introduce Tomako Angel and show what an ordinary day looks like for the woman, as uninteresting as this could sound. The calculation here was the presumption that with much of the story revolving around Tomako's travels and constant talk of the mission at hand, that readers may go on to appreciate the fact that there did, in fact, exist a time in the story where we saw Tomako living a normal life. With this said, I was still aware that I needed to keep readers invested, especially as this is the start of the story and that the interest of my audience must be earned, and so the chapter is still sprinkled with the political drama established in the prologue, not so subtly communicating to the reader what is to almost certainly transpire, while Tomako lacks the information that the reader has at this point.
==Chapter Illustration==
This was the first of many illustrations to come that used the iconic earless art style (historically referred to as 'Siontix Gen[eration] Style'). At the time, this was the first traditional chapter illustration for a story since the end of F-Zero: Seppuku a year prior, and due to some nervousness at returning to consistent illustrations, the work was intentionally kept simple: Tomako being scolded with a simple but obscure background.
This work saw the return of Adobe Photoshop as the primary tool for chapter illustrations, and the illustration itself was started and completed in a single session.
==Characters Introduced==
====Tomako Angel====
Protagonist of EngelReise, Tomako entered the story riding a horse as part of her horse training duties. Tomako is revealed to be the only daughter of Soga and Togami Angel, and is the constant target of her father's harassment over this fact. The chapter also goes far in showing that Tomako is of a religious upbringing, often invoking the gods to help her understand a situation. Tomako is living life in Swatslandic-occupied Imperyea, but despite this, seems almost careless of the political consequences of this.
====Soga Angel====
Father of Tomako Angel, Soga is an older man who lives by the paintbrush and has a seemingly cureless anger. He enters the story in such a way by bringing down Tomako as a failure, despite her every attempt to please him. The source of Soga's irate nature is his failure to conceive a son to inherit the family farm with, and he thus directs his rage on Tomako.
====Togami Angel====
Mother of Tomako Angel, Togami is the more compassionate and relatable parent of the two, but nevertheless leases her loyalty to Soga, as the head of the household. Togami enters the story as a partial foil to her husband, Soga, as she privately works to convince Tomako that Soga's love for Tomako does exist, just is not shown. She furthermore presses Tomako on her romantic interests and encourages her to tackle her assignment of establishing a trade agreement in Boshtang with the hope of seeing her childhood crush.
====Otomo Nushikuo====
Otomo is a greedy merchant of the nearby village of Boshtang, and acts as the primary trading partner of the Angel farming dynasty, as well as Tomako's oldest friend. Otomo emerges in the story when Tomako visits him to barter a trade deal on behalf of her family. While doing this, Tomako is shocked to discover him selling his old samurai armor, to which he explains that he must sell the armor due to the crippling economy the Swatslandic occupiers have created on the country. This leads to a very passionate vent on Swats-Imperyean politics before he accepts Tomako's trade offer.