Simarachi’s Shadow

At Hiromani Castle with its high solid stone walls, heavy timber gates and yellow blossom tree courtyard gardens through which waters flow contrasting with the stables which are packed with prized horses is Dyag Velsom. It’s been a few days since the destruction of Herki. Enough time for him to rest and reflect on his actions. He’s been kept under guard. Not in cells but far from the welcome many initially believed he deserved; which was to be treated like a hero. The Hero of Herki was what they called him that first day he returned with Lord Ito’s men.

They had ridden to Herki following Felis and the other first group of survivors return to Pensaftu. As Dyag urged they warned the village and then the Lord.

A knock at the door is swiftly followed by a young head popping around the edge to inform, “Lord Ito is ready. You are to be judged.”

The young head disappears from view. It had belonged to a woman, a servant, to Lord Ito Hiromani. This is his castle, his ancestral family home. He is the latest in a great line of successive lords who have protected these lands. At one time it had been in the name of both Tsuaru and Ymbal, for a few generations it has been only the former and rightly so for they did not cede their lands for pastures new like the Ymbal. Not that any of the history of why, how or who matters now. At least it does not to Dyag as he climbs off his knees and back to his full height. He feels much stronger now than he did that night and not only because of his rest and the lives he saved. No, he feels stronger because he is. Having done away with the rigid structure of the Tsuaru tribes’ honour he is more. Yet, for his actions he will be judged. Seldom accounts exist of those being judged in the Tsuaru for dishonour for it has occurred so rarely. Alas, the punishment is clear in all instances which do exist. Lord Ito will abide by the rules of his ancestors; of this Dyag has no doubt. He could break free, potentially; escape to pastures new but sees little reason. Simarachi is his home. It is the only home he has ever had and so will not forsake it. He might have deserted honour in many forms but he has a code. It is largely unchanged from when he had been a Tsuaru warrior, something he is no longer. He ceased to be one the moment he took to skulking through the shadows, killing without declaration using silence and surprise.

If he could go back and do it again he would change nothing, except to perhaps walk this path sooner. It’s funny for him to admit that as he finishes preparing himself for what will ultimately be his execution clad in full armour, armed with twin blades, one short and one not. If he were like the Ymbal, who fled across the border and are yet to return, though they inevitably will, he might be inclined to kill his executioners, maybe even his Lord. But he is not like the Ymbal. He never will be like them. Nor will he be like his people, the Tsuaru, who he will in death no longer be counted amongst.

The former warrior with orange eyes emerges from his room; guards line the corridor to the courtyard beyond on either side. They hold weapons in hand as they stand there at attention. It is partially ceremonial and partially as deterrent. If they knew Dyag they would know he intends to harm none of these men. Many are young, yet to see battle, he takes note of that as he passes their fresh faces.

When he steps out from the confines of the stone walls and wood beams of the castle the sun stings his eyes painfully. He shields them. Caution fills those surrounding him. Lord Ito, standing at his full height, a few inches more than Dyag’s, with those yellow eyes waves to dismiss any intent these warriors might have to strike the former compatriot down. It seems the Lord is not as rash to judge as those who he commands. Dyag should not be surprised for he is a Lord, a noble, and protects these lands. They are not his, in the literal sense, though they fall under his purview. An ancient family tradition handed down from father to eldest son, though occasionally having needed to skip to a nephew from time to time. Nevertheless, each Lord of Simarachi has a direct lineage to the first who had this honour bestowed upon them. Dyag does not know that history. It is the sort of thing known only to scholars and the family in question.

“How do you feel Dyag? Well rested, ready?”

“Yes, my Lord.” Is the reply the man with the orange eyed and shaved head utters succinctly.

“Then we will begin.” Ito says while the former warrior stands close beside him with Tsuaru warriors ready to strike if he were to get any foolish ideas.

Dyag believes it more likely Lord Ito would be the one who struck him down if he tried anything. The man is in full armour, ornate, decorative, bulky, thick, metal, a dark cloudy blue green with sections of burnt red around the edge and three swords. Two are full length; the third is a shorter version much like Dyag’s own. His own short sword is all that remains of his old armour. It was Tsuaru and so with him no longer being a warrior he was not permitted to wear it. In its place he has been clad in greys and black. It too is metal, old fashioned but clearly well crafted. It will be the outfit he dies in. He knows and accepts that while Lord Ito announces, “We are here today because of what happened at Herki. I am sure you have all heard by now of the invasion by Ymbal forces that snuck across the border and assaulted the camp. And I know some of you lost loved ones as a result of their heinous deeds.” Ito bows his head. He is sorrowful and filled with remorse. The Ymbal will pay, some day, but Ito cannot afford to risk war. It seems the Tsuaru are outnumbered according to all reports, which is worrying to say the least.

“We shall continue to mourn those lost. However, some of our own were saved. It was this man here, Dyag Velsom, who prevented greater losses. Alas, we are not here to congratulate a warrior for Dyag broke our code, turned away from honour and killed in secret.” Lord Ito pauses for a couple breaths and then continues, “These are tactics we do not condone. And so we are here to pass judgement on him for these crimes.”

With his speech concluded Lord Ito turns away from the people, his people. They look hurt, though whether by the voicing of Dyag’s crimes or the fate which will befall him the former warrior cannot say. He expected to be heckled and berated not met with sorrow and remorse.

“Dyag Velsom, do you believe your methods were appropriate?”

He already knows what his response will be. He’s ran through it in his head a few thousand times and so without issue answers, “I did what I did not for honour but for my people. In that way yes, I feel what I did was appropriate.”

There are gasps, audible ones. Nothing else, just gasps. Lord Ito is not amongst those who gasp. In fact his expression betrays nothing of how he might be feeling or thinking.

“Do you regret your actions?”

“I do not.” Another gasp follows; this one perhaps slightly less severe than the last.

Lord Ito Hiromani nods. It’s what he expected, it’s what he knew. Long before this moment he conversed with Dyag, questioned and queried. The answers were not as shocking as he had expected them to be. It was clear that in Dyag there remained a decent man, devoid of honour perhaps but shaped by something else. The Lord of Simarachi could not put a name to it and in the days since Dyag’s return the people could not stop themselves from speaking, and embellishing, the tale of Dyag Velsom as he stood against the Ymbal invaders led by Eiron at Herki.

“Do you know what the punishment is for your crimes?”

“I do.”

“Do you except it?”

“I accept it without pause for death is what I am owed.”

The Tsuaru, his people, are shocked. They stand with mouths agape. The expressions on their faces are fearful. It is what Lord Ito thought might be the reaction and why he announces, “Dyag Velsom, you shall not face execution but exile from these walls and the walls of Pensaftu village. If you ever return you will face death. This is no longer your home; take him away, release him at the gates.”

The exclamations are numerous; the warriors even hesitate until Lord Hiromani delivers a strong commanding nod. It’s a silent demand and it is adhered too.

While Dyag is being led away, quite perplexed, to be set free the Lord’s wife, Eema, sidles up beside her husband and queries, “Why are you letting him go? He has broken the laws of the Tsuaru. The records are clear. He should be executed.”

Ito strokes his beard which ends in a sharp point and says, “Because it is better Simarachi has a shadow to guide and guard it than it is for it to have a symbol.”

“And why is that Lord?”

“A shadow fades in time, where as a symbol remains, even perseveres.”