EngelReise - Chapter 11

**Chapter 10 < | > Chapter 12**

With the Battle of Korion over, the Council of Five answer up to their side of the bargain by putting Tomako on a ship to Krucifix. With Daigon seeing her away from home, Tomako now faces more realization of the incoming challenges. Alongside an unknown culture, unfamiliar land, low supplies, and low money, Tomako must also persevere with the apparent hostility that Krucifixans hold toward Imperyeans. Whether Krucifixans are as hostile toward Imperyeans as everyone seems to claim is for Tomako to figure out on her first leg of the Krucifixan mile...

## Chapter Reading

== Chapter 11 – *A Tense Arrival* =

Twelve hours passed since the final Swatslandic blade had been dropped in Korion. By now, most would awaken from their sleep that had been burdened by the effects of warfare. The fallen—Swatslandic and Imperyean alike—were being removed from the streets of Korion on this new day, and the Council of Five repositioned itself into Kori Castle in preparation for the next step in liberating Imperyea. Tomako would not know what comes next, however, for she had the rare privilege of escaping the Swatslandic occupation and wasted no time in doing so.

Aboard a Swatslandic merchant ship bound for Krucifix, Daigon and a few other samurai warriors were present to make sure that the destination to Krucifix remains the same. The Swatslandic sailors knew best not to try any tricks with Imperyean blades to their throats and backs.

Daigon felt honored to transport Tomako to Krucifix, and in doing so was also satisfying his wish to see the Krucifixan peninsula once more. With the Battle for Kori Castle won, he did not view Tomako in the same dim light he once did; she served her country honorably and exceptionally, and in his eyes deserved to be treated well. Daigon couldn’t ask for a better gift than what had been achieved the past night—even if that victory cost him an eye.

As for the aspiring Imperyean farmer who was but hours away from Krucifix, there was a nervous and anxious set of feelings. Contrary to her seemingly high confidence and morale, Krucifix was going to present vastly different challenges. The Krucifixans followed a different faith, hates Imperyea, has different laws, celebrated different events, and had a different manner of dialect. Tomako didn’t kid herself; she knew Krucifix would be a nightmare for her. Worst of all was that she would need to acquire additional funds somewhere while in this new nation, and an Imperyean finding work in Krucifix would be as likely as a mouse besting a cat. Indeed, she had reason enough to fear the future…

Ever so humble in stature, Tomako maintained herself at the ship’s stern. She held EngelReise down like a cane and with her eyes solid on the open waves ahead of her. There was nothing out there—just water wherever she looked. Long had she heard about the ocean, and often enough had she seen her father’s artistic depiction of it, but it was during this moment she truly understood the peace that could come from staring out at it. She received the ocean as heavenly, but also terrifying knowing the ship could capsize at any moment, and nobody would find them.

Such fearful thoughts led Tomako to tap sword anxiously and grimace. She would go on to try and send herself into a trance, but fear of doom kept at her. All she could think about in this moment was the immeasurable weight of responsibility she carried with her on this ship. Only she had the power to save her parents, and the moment some unforeseen tragedy doomed her, so too would her parents be doomed.

With a deep breath in, Tomako closed her eyes, and let all of her current stressors leave with her exhale.

She had to put her all into this journey—experience, learn, and prevail all the way to Swatsland and back.

With a powerful stance and raised sword to the captain, the armored Daigon spoke, “The weather’s very fine today. Fitting, given our approach of Krucifix.”

The Swatslandic captain controlling the ship turned to the Imperyean hero, “I say this not out of hostility, but rather, honest warning. Swatsland *will* send new ships to Imperyea, and they will be more powerful than anything you’ve yet witnessed.”

“Silence,” the samurai demanded. “If what I’ve read about Swatsland is true, they face a competitive nation of Victoria in Svatpa. They wouldn’t risk diverting naval power from Svatpa to Shimua, and if they do, we’ll burn those ships as well.”

The captain braved a sarcastic laugh, “You underestimate the value our Emperor has placed on his Shimuan holdings. Imperyea is his most prized jewel, and he will do what he must to maintain hold of that jewel you call a home.”

A katana came over the captain’s shoulder pad, resting just beside his neck. “I told you to silence yourself, Swatslandic eel. I told you, we will burn anything you dare send.”

Following this moment of tension, the sound of creaking planks was heard, Tomako being the source. All eyes came onto her, the only woman on the ship—quite possibly the only woman to have ever stepped aboard a Swatslandic merchant vessel in Shimua.

Daigon sheathed his katana, “May the sun bless the world and burn those who oppose it.” Tomako continued walking, but now did so with a raised brow. “Rest well, Tomako Angel?”

This friendly question was dishonored by initial silence, for the woman took straight for the ship’s edge to look down at the water. Daigon turned to face her with his one eye sharpened. With a few more seconds, she looked away from the water.

“The extended rest was appreciated… but the murdering of over a thousand soldiers last night left me tossing and turning as we sailed.”

To her surprise, Daigon let out a laugh, “Murder? We did not murder those prisoners, we executed them.”

“Forgive me, but I do not understand the difference.” She quickly clarified, “I see no difference.”

“That battle claimed far more than a thousand souls, Tomako. Do not frown over the death of a thousand Swatslandic prisoners, for they committed the original sin of inviting themselves to great Imperyea.” His point only further bothered the woman. “Besides, soldiers come and go. I would rather fall to my enemy than die bedridden. The sentiment is true for most Imperyeans who answer the call of war.”

Such a point seemed obvious to Tomako, but not one she agreed with. Still, there was no point in arguing over a battle that had now passed, let alone one she had no means of influencing further. Tomako knew there was a chance she may never hear from Imperyea again, as such, she could only guess what happens next in the Swats-Imperyean affair. As she approached Krucifix, she only hoped Imperyea would find its independence again, and that peace between Swatsland and Imperyea would return.

“Your sword…” Daigon pointed out. “Give us a look.”

With a straight pose, Tomako turned to the group of Imperyean warriors and unsheathed EngelReise; everyone—Daigon included—expressed great interest in the Great Lord blade. Daigon’s eye went from blade to hilt in constant motions.

“The hilt remains solid purple, lacking the stains of war.” His eye returned to the bright blade. “The metal remains clean—no rust, no stain, no crack. Truly, it is a special weapon—never before used.”

Tomako flourished the blade in gentle motions, raised it up toward the sun, and then returned it to her waist. Some of the present warriors were almost dissatisfied to already see such a great weapon put away.

Daigon was impressed, but also tempered, for Tomako had just reminded him of the very reason he started off disliking her. “I fail to understand why a man of such power and prestige bestowed this sword upon a common farmer… for use in a fool’s quest, no less…” Tomako did not respond in any particular way. “To leave you with a standard sword would have been prestigious enough for you. But… if it was Great Lord Otomo’s decision, I will not doubt his reasoning.” He clenched his fists. “I, however, would not have been so charitable…”

“His reason is his own.”

“Indeed, Tomako, indeed. As I say, I will not doubt or insult his reasoning.”

A powerful gust of wind came right after the conclusion of this topic. Tomako was almost knocked back by the wind while her hair blew all over the place. She was the only one to be impacted by the wind, aside from the brief ravaging of the ship’s sails.

The Swatslandic captain cleared his throat, “If I may speak?”

Daigon crossed his arms, “I reluctantly permit you to do so.”

Tomako, was not so aggressive, “Has something gone awry, Captain?”

“Not at all, madam. We are making excellent timing.” He looked to Tomako while completely dismissing Daigon. “I thought it would be worth mentioning that we should be arriving at the peninsula late in the afternoon.”

All Imperyeans looked to the sun, Daigon did so with a tapping foot, while Tomako raised her brows in surprise.

“But it is already half past the day, is it not?”

“Indeed, madam.”

Daigon raised his chin, “In other words, we’re almost there.” He followed this statement by gripping his belt and moving away. “Come, Tomako. Let us exchange final words over food.”

The offer of a meal was not surprising, yet unexpected. Tomako had not stomached anything since her mission to Kori Castle, where she had been offered Svatpean delicacies, and yet she was not overly hungry. Still, acknowledging that food would be hard to come by in Krucifix, Tomako did not hesitate to walk alongside the man to partake in a meal.

Soon enough, away from the eyes of others, Tomako and Daigon found themselves down in the captain’s cabin—which included large windows, fine furniture, maps, documents, and of course, a quality table to eat from. Everything was built for luxury and comfort, yet there existed a problem—for Daigon.

“What are you doing!?” Tomako panicked.

Daigon was going berserk with his katana, hacking away at every rich chair in sight. After demolishing all chairs in the room, he proceeded to attack the decorative table—specifically the legs. Eventually the tabletop would fall to the ground without legs. Wood chippings and furniture pieces now laid in pieces all around them. Ultimately, the man flourished his sword with incredible talent, managing to sheathe it at an incredible pace.

“That is better. Now we can *properly* feast.”

Tomako’s heart was beating rapidly, and one of her legs remained in the air from fright. However, she understood what Daigon was getting at, and thus proceeded to sit on the floor.

“I mean no offense, but…” Tomako put her hands together and looked the man in the eye. “If we wished to seat ourselves on the floor, we were welcome to do so without destroying furniture.”

“Heh.” He shook this statement off as a joke. “The Swatslandic come to our nation and tell us how to sit, how to love, what to worship…” He crossed his arms in clear defiance. “I will use their furniture as I wish, for now it is Imperyea that commands the Swatslandic, as the gods have decreed.”

She nodded, “Very well.”

In those coming few minutes, various fruits, vegetables, pork, and tea had been placed over the leveled table. The selection of food was not of great variety, but still interesting to the woman who rarely ate anything beyond rice and the occasional fish.

The two chose their respective foods, with Tomako taking one of everything but pork. Daigon gladly helped himself to all that remained on the table. With this, the two feasted while ocean waves slammed the ship.

Not long into the meal, a conversation was initiated by Tomako. “What will happen to Otomo? Will he remain with the Council of Five now?”

“Great Lord Otomo will remain posted beside his brethren, yes. I believe he has at last put Imperyea’s future before wishful thinking.”

Tomako swallowed her food, then looked up with dropped brows, “Wishful thinking?”

“His wife.” Tomako’s heart skipped a beat. “Despite how long it has been, his love for her was enough to keep him away from the council and to stay in Kushyrin. Dead or alive, he should have long understood that she would not return. Better late than never.”

The woman’s frown intensified, “Are you insinuating that he has given up?”

“What’s worse is that he will soon need to remarry. I can only imagine how that will affect a man who held genuine feelings for a past lover.” He looked up at Tomako, intent on answering the obvious question. “You must understand, Tomako. As a Great Lord with no children, he is left with no choice but to move on. If he does not have a son, his dynasty will lose control of Kushyrin when he dies. A power struggle would develop between Kushyrian warlords, surely, of which could only be settled through war.”

All of this led to Tomako holding her forehead, very discomforted by all of this. Knowing Otomo on a more personal level, she of all people had the best idea of how he would feel about moving on—especially knowing that his current wife could be still alive and looking for him. It was paining to the heart, made worse given that Tomako would likely never hear of the outcome, unless she truly were to return from her journey one day.

“I can sense your distress.”

Tomako eyed Daigon for a moment. “This topic is exhausting. I’ve something else to discuss with you…”

“Very well.”

Despite her claim, an ensuing silence occurred between the two. Tomako, soon enough, raised her chin and stated, “I’ve picked a name for my horse.”

“You’ve named your horse?”

“Sakura.”

Daigon’s brows dropped on the spot, “You’ve named your horse after a flower?”

This could be taken in as a joke, but the serious look on Tomako’s face suggested otherwise. “Like this horse, the sakura flower is associated with Imperyea. As I distance myself from my home island of Kushyrin, Sakura will bring me comfort. We come from the same village of Boshtang.” Following this explanation, a hand rested over her sword’s hilt. “This sword also comes from Kushyrin. Even if I am destined to die on this so called ‘fool’s quest,’ I will rest closer to home than one might think.”

The samurai nodded with respect, but then assumed a humored face. His eye closed, he chuckled, and then he resumed eating. This unexplained humor naturally provoked Tomako.

“What is so funny?”

The man’s humored face remained, but he now ate while shaking his head. With time, any sign of humor vanished, leaving him to shake his head in disapproval.

“I do not understand your priorities,” he explained. “Your journey to Svatpa is senseless and foolish.”

Tomako glared softly and became quiet for a moment. “You are just like the others, casting doubt and shame on my honorable quest.” She broke eye contact with him, instead choosing to stare past his shoulder. “This poor farmer woman, who has only a mother and father to her name, wishes to fill her pot of honor by rescuing them, and you have the shame to mock her?”

Daigon smirked at the accusation, “You act as though there is no other way to acquire honor.”

Tomako remained on edge and offended, “Now you insult my intelligence. What’s next? Will you insult my horse again?”

“To abandon your parents in Swatsland would be family desertion, indeed a strong blow to your pot of honor; this I am fully aware of. But listen, young one…” Daigon leaned in close to Tomako, looking at her with a strict eye. “Everyone spills their pot. Only the Perfectly Honorable One is said to have flawless control of their pot. For you and I, there are other ways of regaining honor that does not involve embarking on a fool’s quest.” Tomako listened but was shielding her mind from his lecture. “You helped Imperyea yesterday by aiding us in our liberation of Korion. Indeed, a very brave and heroic act, and one that surely warrants a bounty of honor for your pot.”

“With all due respect, can you hasten your point? How does this involve my parents?”

“The actions you take elsewhere can make up for another less desirable action. Between leaving your parents and helping your nation regain independence, the latter is objectively more significant.” Tomako’s eyes quivered a bit. “No one will look down on you for turning your back on your old parents; we will all remember you as a hero in the liberation of Imperyea.”

The woman turned her head a bit, “You mean that I can make up for leaving my family in Swatsland by serving Imperyea in its time of need?”

“In my honest opinion… you already have.” Daigon returned to his food, but still looked at her with a grin. “What say you, Tomako? Let us explore the peninsula for a short time as a reward to you; then we will return to Imperyea, where you can continue to aid the Council of Five in their liberation. Great Lord Otomo would be ecstatic to have you around, and with enough training, perhaps you could be turned into a great warrior woman—provided you find a husband, which you most certainly will.”

These concluding points had Tomako gazing out the window of the cabin, for a moment forgetting that they were moving onward to the Krucifixan peninsula. There did come a moment where she weighed her options. She could return to Otomo and serve him, and along with this, she could be alongside Takeda Nagano as a lover. However, with these two things in mind: Tomako was no warrior, and her heartfelt feelings for Takeda were now dampened by their interaction at the festival. Neither factor came close to her actual reason for disinterest.

Tomako crossed her hands together and explained, “Perhaps to you, the abandonment of family is not so costly in honor. To me, it is without value.” Daigon raised his chin and with an expanding eye. “If I do not at least try to rescue my parents, I am afraid my life carries nothing of worth.”

For those coming seconds, Daigon was left with a darting eye, not sure what kind of response to give. Through his decades of life, he had met many who took Puritonism and their pot of honor to heart—but never had he met someone so unusually devoted to their pot. From his point of view, Tomako’s viewing of honor was admirable, but more so self-harming.

“Idiot.” Tomako dropped her arms and glared. “Why sacrifice so much? Why risk so much? Only to save your parents who have but a decade or so left of life?” The man rubbed his fingers together. “Perhaps if it were your child who had been captured, then yes—but your parents? Tomako, please, enough of this…” He reached his hand out, hoping to convince her yet. “In the time it will take you to reach Swatsland, you could be back in Kushyrin with children in your own womb, a country free once more, the infinite admiration of your people. Why do you insist on a fool’s quest that -”

Finally, Tomako struck her eating utensils down in a rare display of anger. The provoked behavior led Daigon to grunt and glare at her. She stood up from the table in a display of hostility.

“This discussion is over… as is the meal.”

Daigon clicked his jaw left and right for a moment, “How… dare you, woman…” Now the samurai stood up to face her, and he did so in a very confrontational manner. “I offer you humble words of advice, and you insult me with this… childish tantrum!?” Tomako’s eyes remained on the man, but with rising fear. “Do you really believe *you* are the authority figure here? Might I remind you that I am a Hero of the Imperial Court? And you, nothing but a woman farmer. Nothing more than a girl who days ago could not prepare a simple fire.”

Tomako turned her head away with slight guilt, but also righteousness. In her fortified mind, Daigon was firing a barrage of insults to her character by suggesting that she abandon her parents. She feared him very much but would not retreat on this matter.

Daigon waved her off, “Ignore my advice if it will boost your unfathomable confidence in this fool’s quest. A boost in confidence is all I can give you for this doomed adventure.” The samurai stood and walked off without any formality. “I wish you well on your journey, but take as little offense as possible when I declare that today is the last I shall ever see, or hear, of you.”

With this being said, Daigon put a hand to his sword and marched out of the cabin. Tomako found herself with a hand over her own sword but chose not to follow him. Instead, she meditated over this sudden confrontation they had to the sight of open ocean.

Although she refused to admit it, she did find herself questioning the realism of this journey. She had yet to meet a single person who believed in her, even worse being that every person who had doubted her thus far were those she cared about to some extent.

Somewhat casting doubt upon herself, Tomako finally dipped her head down in sorrow. But even with what decline in confidence she felt, she was intent on moving forward.

“The Swatslandic are here,” a man called to another.

“Ready the ropes!”

Those many hours later, the merchant ship would reach land—a decent size dockyard village on the most southeastern point of the Krucifixan peninsula. The dockyard workers treated this like any routine Swatslandic merchant dealing, preparing ropes to secure the ship with, as well as summon additional workers to help unload cargo. Little did they know, the Swatslandic came with nothing to trade this time.

Ropes would be attached to the approaching ship and attached to the dock, meanwhile, both parties worked on getting the loading bridge down. As this happened, Tomako and Daigon stood together one final time alongside her horse, Sakura. Although this was not the first time Daigon had seen Krucifix, it was the first time he had arrived without Krucifixan arrows raining over his head; for this reason, he could enjoy the view in peace.

Tomako had little to say but was just as taken back by the land before her. It was difficult for her to comprehend that once this ship turns around for Imperyea, she would truly be locked into her journey.

“So, this is Krucifix…” Tomako muttered.

Daigon grimaced, “Stay mindful, Tomako. The people here want nothing to do with us.”

She nodded to his warning, but not without an argument to make. “I believe any person can be reasoned with, regardless of the grudge, as long as I remain a friendly enough identity.”

“Heh…” Daigon shook his head. “You do what you can to survive around here. Just don’t let your guard down. Keep in mind that you are *one* and a woman—there are countless things that could happen in a land that despises our blood and faith.”

The ship’s bridge came down, allowing official entrance into the peninsula. This led the two Imperyeans to exchange glances, knowing that their farewell was approaching.

“Well, considering how light I am on supplies…” Tomako looked to the satchels attached to her horse, all of which were pathetic in weight. “I’ll need to meet that one friendly Krucifixan soon so that I can find temporary work. I won’t get far without more money.”

“How much do you currently have?”

Tomako frowned, “A hundred… some…”

“O—oh…” Daigon gave her shoulder a slight tap. “Well, good luck with that.”

Just a few minutes later, the dockyard master and a few other Krucifixan men emerged as a greeting party; what surprised them was the sight of armored samurai coming down the bridge rather than Swatslandic sailors. Eyes widened all around the dockyard in response. The samurai were followed by Tomako on her horse.

Despite the intimidating presence of Daigon, the dockyard master continued, “Excuse me? I thought the samurai had been destroyed..?”

Daigon and his men then surrounded the men, all with their swords drawn, prompting panic around the dockyard. The Krucifixans who were being surrounded said nothing past this point. Tomako ventured off the bridge and onto the dock but did so with wide eyes.

The Imperyean hero looked to the dockyard master and explained, “We’ve been tasked with delivering a special priority to Krucifix.”

“O- Oh!?”

Following this, Daigon stepped away from the crowd and toward Tomako, where he then offered a parting bow, “We, the people of Imperyea, wish you luck on your travel, Tomako Angel.”

Tomako fumbled around with her mouth for a few moments, contemplating her final words to Daigon. An apology, a witty remark, a confident farewell—there was a lot she could give him given their short but significant history together.

“Goodbye…” she simply said with a wave.

At last, Tomako ordered her horse forward into the unknown—trotting over soil where Imperyeans and Krucifixans alike had died fighting in the thousands for centuries. This woman intended to venture deep into Krucifix, where few Imperyeans have ever gone before.

Once Tomako vanished from his view, Daigon smirked to his comrades and stood straight. From this point forward Tomako had made her final decision—he could no longer intervene and bring her back with him. As such, acknowledging her decision with a nod, he turned back toward the ship in which they came.

With Tomako and Daigon at last parting ways, the adventurer had officially begun her mainland journey. She had little direction, no knowledge of the Krucifixan culture, few coins, low supply, and didn’t even know the name of the village she arrived in. It was no secret that Tomako came unprepared, and with the sun only hours from setting, she had to set and tackle her priorities fast.

As she travelled the most populous street of the village, it did not take long for her to take note of the obvious—skin color. While the build of Krucifixans were not too different from Imperyeans, Tomako was a snowflake among leaves. Her brighter skin color made for an easy sight among Krucifixans, who had a more common Shimuan darkness.

The purple katana to her waist was the most blatant identifier of her Imperyean character, and it resulted in her getting many stares. Men and women alike, regardless of social class, found themselves looking to the horseback rider. Tomako was blind to the attention she was drawing in, as she was distracted by her own thoughts of priorities.

Left to right she searched for any business familiar to her—primarily, an inn. As she went on to contemplate matters of sleep, a pressing issue had been raised.

*…if I pay to sleep somewhere, I may not have anything left for food and other supplies…*

She grabbed her forehead, already stressed by fiscal management. She came to realize obviously too late that her money situation was more severe than first believed. She needed money, and this should have been appropriated back in Imperyea, where she had a home advantage. The realization now started to surface that she may need to find work in this very village just to keep her journey from ending at the starting line.

More eyes came onto Tomako as she took her horse down a different road. Bizarrely, she was now in search of workplaces in evident need of laborers. Horseback work was most desired, but she could settle with mercantilism, using what her old friend Otomo taught her about trade.

Tomako raised a hand over her brow in search of any merchant shacks. She seemed to be in the center of a residential area, however, carriage tracks were present on the ground, and wheel tracks could lead to trade.

The woman slowed down to focus on these tracks, but in doing so finally noticed the many eyes around her. Shock was the initial theme of the onlookers, but many gave her curious looks as well; no one appeared welcoming to the Imperyean woman seated atop a horse. Naturally, the woman attempted to break any communication with these people by turning her head another direction, but this was to no avail, as even more stares came from this way. It became abundantly clear to her that she unintentionally captured the village’s attention.

“Y- Yes, hello?” she called out. “Could someone point me in the direction of work, please? Trade, animal husbandry, perhaps?” A cold silence, mixed with some silent chatter, left her feeling very uncomfortable. “You see, I am not from Krucifix. I am from Kushyrin—an island of Imperyea. I need money, and food, and -”

“The Imperyeans are here to take our jobs!”

This was the spark needed to instigate a soundly riot, as the crowd broke out into protest in unison. Tomako responded with a shocked expression, straightening her back and looking around the crowd with panic. More Krucifixans would emerge and wrap around the scene, joining in to protest the Imperyean’s presence in the village. No one appeared ready to attack her, but the faces of some suggested that they could if shoved.

Tomako ordered Sakura to retreat very slowly, but said, “I am no threat to you! I just need food, money, and water!”

A woman, with clothing only the lowest of class could wear, stepped up close, “Just because the Swatslandic have taken your nation doesn’t mean you can pour into ours!” She struck both fists against her chest. “We are a proud people who know better than to house Imperyeans!”

Growing ever more fearful of the developing protest, Tomako picked up her speed. Soon enough, she sent her horse galloping away at a speed that could not possibly be pursued on foot. The crowd continued to protest in her direction, shouting words of resentment even after she could no longer be seen.

A very short time later, Tomako would find her moment of peace. Any sign of danger was now gone, as was the mass attention centered around her. With this, she could resume her search for potential work or information, but she now came to understand that finding work in this village could be dangerous for her—maybe even impossible.

The woman had been forced into traveling into the less populated side of the village, and it was here she found workshops. She came to identify pottery making as a very popular job in the village, followed by the less common weaponsmiths, and finally a school. Unfortunately, she knew not of pottery, weapon crafting, nor what went into teaching Krucifixan youth. Everything around her seemed to require experience or even education, and nothing played into her expertise of horsing and farming.

Growing anxious, Tomako squirmed over Sakura, “Why can I not find a simple food market..?” Then, with a clueless finger to her lip, she wondered. …*Krucifixans do eat regular food, yes..?*

There was more to be found in this marketplace, but not a single location stuck out as a general store, food stand, or even so much as a mailing post. The village had a mysterious lack of basic merchandise. Such being the case, Tomako was left to grumble to herself.

*…impossible. There must be a general merchant somewhere here. Maybe it was near that angry mob…*

A woman in plain red clothing walked with a bag over her shoulder, going about her day as normal, but upon passing the school, found a towering shadow come up from behind. The woman turned to find the horsed Tomako approaching.

Eye contact was made for a split moment before the Imperyean took a humble bow, “Excuse me, yes. Where can an honest person, such as myself, find a food store around here?” The Krucifixan did not answer. “I am interested in acquiring food… or work. Both.”

With reluctance, the woman pointed in a direction, “The general store is not here, but over there, where the trees hang lowest.”

Tomako smiled, “Thank you.”

The woman displayed hesitation to say or do anything more, but gradually, a temper began to form that would again impose fear into Tomako.

“But you are better off searching across the sea, and never return.”

The Imperyean’s eyes shook for a second, “Excuse me?”

The woman cautiously retreated, seemingly self-intimidated by her own escalation as if she were being commanded to act belligerent. She continued to speed walk away until at a structure’s corner, in which she finally looked back.

“Go back to Imperyea!” she shouted before fleeing.

This scene left Tomako shaken. First, she was practically ejected from the village by a mob, then a lonely woman as simple as this was suddenly made agitated. Tomako was not able to so much as field an argument in her defense in either of these cases. She had grasped a much clearer understanding of just what kind of trouble her Imperyean identity was going to cause her in this land.

“Mm…” an older man in a merchant shack examined a ceramic pot of slight age, yet splendid quality. “Erm…”

“Excuse me.”

He looked up from his pot and found Tomako now before him. She pointed up to a shelf, which contained various Shimuan sun hats—coned in shape and made from straw.

“How much might a hat cost?”

The man remained distracted on the pot, “My hat..? E—Eh… Fifteen coins should do it.”

Tomako thus pulled out her pouch of remaining coins. She still had a hundred and some left, but every last one would need to be spent on life needs after this hat. The shape and size of this hat would, with luck, provide enough shade and head coverage to hide her Imperyean face.

At last, the man set the pot down and announced, “It is decided. I will sell the pot for seventy…”

Overhearing this listing, Tomako raised her chin in shock, “Wha—a? Seventy coins for the pot?”

“It’s not just any pot. It is a faithful replica of an ancient royal piece from Greater Krucifix. Notice the purposefully messy texture, an iconic feature of any ancient Krucifixan works.”

Tomako titled her head, “There was a Greater Krucifix? What happened to it?”

This question—normal to her, but obscure to the man—led the merchant to finally face her with low brows, “Greater Krucifix—up north.” Her look of confusion was plain to see. “You know it, the region north of the peninsula. Surely you know of Greater Krucifix.”

His eyes remained centered on Tomako, and he became ever so suspicious of her with every ensuing second. Tomako, meanwhile, found herself avoiding eye contact by staring at the sky.

“Oh…” he muttered. “You’re… not… from around *here*…”

Tomako cautiously moved her eyes onto him, then offered a swift nod, “No, I am traveling through this fine kingdom. It is my great pleasure to meet you.” Her friendly greeting went unanswered for many seconds, prompting her to move on. “So, these coins should cover the cost of the hat.”

He looked down at her hand of coins, then with one eye closed, looked back up at her. “I’m… going to need more than that...”

“What?” Tomako’s eyes widened. “Twenty coins—did I count incorrectly?”

“I said fifty coins.” Tomako opened her mouth to argue but was cut off. “Imperyeans pay a special tax.”

She raised her arms in disbelief, “I may not be a math genius, but even I know that taxes on a fifteen coin hat should not equal thirty-five…”

“Emphasis on *special* tax…”

With this, the woman sighed and looked down in despair. “Please, I am in need of money.” This initial pleading led the man to glare. “Just for a day, or two, I need to find work that pays. Can you help me?”

Now his mood switched from negative to somewhat hostile. “You can always prostitute yourself. Such is the deserved role of an Imperyean woman.”

Despite the cruelty of the suggestion, Tomako answered calmly, “Prostitution is not a viable option. Thank you for the suggestion, anyway.”

“Then you are running on borrowed time. There is no work for your people here. There is no respect for your people here beside hostility.”

With watery eyes, Tomako continued to plea, “Is this honestly over the samurai attacks of the past? Can we not put aside the past and -”

“Put aside the past!?” The man struck his fist down. “For *centuries*, your cruel people—men and women alike—have *scorched* this entire peninsula to ash, abducting our lovers, stealing our arts.” He pointed to her with an accusing finger. “We may not like the Swatslandic, but we view them as the lesser of evils for at long last containing your people’s horrendous aggression! I do not care if you are fleeing persecution—no one here does. This is a nation of victims, and our tormentors are not welcome here.”

Tomako’s eyes continued to water, “B- But… I had nothing to do with past conflicts…”

The man closed his eyes and sighed. “The Imperyean people supported the samurai wars against us; so you are all guilty of the suffering we’ve long endured.”

Wordless, Tomako turned to her side with a frown. She hadn’t a clue how to judge this claim; being someone of little interest in politics and war, there wasn’t much she had to say at all. Nevertheless, the merchant gradually began to cool down his hostile attitude. He sighed and reached up for the hat in question.

“I will sell you the hat for twenty coins, lest you be identified as Imperyean so easily.”

She looked back up at him, “But… the tax..?”

He forced the exchange to be made, with her money disappearing into his pocket just as quickly as the hat came upon her head. “The Imp Tax is encouraged, not enforced. You seem like a behaved enough sort—for someone of naturally boiled blood.”

“I suppose.”

The hat, as expected, cast shade down her face, which would go a long way in shielding her identity, at least from afar. Of the handful of Krucifixans that she had now encountered, this man was, sadly, the kindest.

Tomako bowed, “I thank you for the reconsideration.” He returned a nod, rather than a respecting bow. “Now, might I inquire where an Imperyean may acquire a *virtuous* job?”

His eyes became still on her, and soon transformed in a hostile way. “Nowhere. Nowhere at all. That is, unfortunately, the honest truth for you. You need to turn around and return to Imperyea as soon as possible.”

She trembled a slight bit, “There is no place to make money around here?”

“I want you to leave in the next minute or two. My shop will be doomed if I’m seen with an Imperyean.” He leaned forward to deliver a quiet explanation. “…no sane person would hire an Imperyean assistant—it is a marketing death sentence. No one wants to hand their money over to Imperyean blood, nor would they desire to eat anything you have touched. Your country’s evil acts have forever tarnished the reputation of Imperyeans in the peninsula—but perhaps not so much in Greater Krucifix.”

With wide eyes, Tomako whispered, “Surely, you exaggerate. There is no one here who can help me?”

“I am afraid not. There is only one job an Imperyean could land around here, and it is reserved for women only.” Tomako lowered her eyelids, preemptively showing disinterest. “Any Krucifixan man in these parts would kill to have a nightly session of dominance and revenge over an Imperyean woman; there is no greater feeling for many than to take from Imperyea’s women for a change. If you are unwilling to market yourself, then there is absolutely nothing for you.”

Those coming moments were spent murmuring and grunting in shocked awe. Tomako felt compelled to cover her eyes from stress, put against a very bad set of options.

“You say that the people of Greater Krucifix may have more of a heart for me?”

“Those living down here in the peninsula despise everything having to do with Imperyea. Up in the flowered lands of Greater Krucifix, where the samurai have never set foot, the people do not have the same tortured memories that we do.”

She nodded, “How long would it take to reach Greater Krucifix?”

“I must again tell you to return to Imperyea at once.” A silence came between them, provoking him to grumble. “However, since I am supposing you will not take that advice… If you travel nonstop—preferably half a day of travel—you would reach Greater Krucifix in, say… erm…” He squinted, trying to put the math together. “About a week.”

Tomako bolted up, “A week!?”

“Roughly. That is assuming you make efficient ground each day with few stops.”

In a moment of slight rage, Tomako clenched her fists while facing her horse. “I do not have nearly enough supplies to last a week, and with this Imp Tax, I will have very little opportunity to get more.”

“If I can make a suggestion?” Tomako looked to him. “You can sell some of your gear, then hopefully, afford the bear minimum needed to get away from the peninsula.” His eyes came down to the most obvious piece of her person. “That sword could potentially land you major wealth, not from me, but perhaps someone interested in relics.”

It went without saying that this was not an option. There was nothing she was interested in selling, and so like it or not, she would have to make the weeklong trip on what few resources she still had. Her horse would be able to work off of natural resources—as bad as this may be—but Tomako was the one who would need to stress her stomach. Suddenly, she was in deep regret for cutting her meal with Daigon short.

With a most humble nod, Tomako said, “Thank you. That is all.”

He nodded back, “Just a warning, but if anyone asks me about you… you were attempting to rob me and I scared you off.”

“I will hope then for my sake that no one asks.”

The woman mounted her horse once more with the man watching with concerned eyes. He knew not of why a lone woman from Imperyea intended on traveling so far north, and while he wouldn’t admit it, such a strange ambition did leave him trusting her a bit more. For whatever purpose she had in Krucifix, he trusted that her reasoning was an innocent enough one.

“Hey!” the man called. Tomako looked back down into the shack, a hand to her sword’s hilt while doing so. “You’ll want to move in that direction,” he said pointing north.

The woman, with a calm expression, replied, “Thank you, again.”

With a coned sun hat now over her head, Tomako moved north reluctantly but ready for the challenges ahead of her. An unknown land, few supplies, low cash, and a very unfriendly peninsular culture would be recurring obstacles of this step of the journey. There was no resting for Tomako, who seemed to always be on the move and with pressure surrounding her.

As of right now, it was the worst possible time to be alone on this journey…

To be continued!

**Chapter 10 < | > Chapter 12**

## Author Notes

#### Shift of Theme

This is considered the first chapter of 'Season 2,' or the 'Krucifix season,' and with it came a change in theme from what was common in the first season. With this season, I wanted to emphasize the tension between Imperyea and Krucifix by showing that Tomako is not only alone, but antagonized in this foreign land. At the same time, however, I set out on a mission to show that while the Krucifixans have an irrational hatred for Imperyeans, this attitude comes from a history of being victimized. The idea presented is supposed to communicate that the Imperyeans are fully in the wrong for bringing war to the Krucifixan peninsula so many times, but that this does not justify so brutally harassing the individual Imperyean—one who simply wishes to pass through the country at that. This theme and complex issue of a victimized people proceeding to victimize Tomako simply based on her blood is something that would become the major focus of Season 2.

## Chapter Illustration

This chapter illustration depicts Tomako wearing a straw sun hat to conceal her identity, discussing with the Krucifixan merchant who would sell her the hat. This illustration is the first to represent a scene erroneously, as Tomako would only wear the hat on her departure, while this image suggests she is carrying on a discussion in it. This minor error was the consequence of creating the illustration before the writing.

One notable thing about the background is that it attempts to establish a common type of architecture unique to Krucifix—or at least peninsular Krucifix. This architecture seems to suggest that Krucifixan roofing is constructed with two layers, and the walls made from a smooth material (though this could simply be the result of a simplistic art style at the time.) The common structure colors here are brown and green.

This image was made entirely through Adobe Photoshop.