A Time Traveller's Guide To Feudal Japan

Chapter 221 - Fire

"The night’s here, Okabe-sama."

"Do you think me to be blind?" The general replied with irritation, sitting upon his horse and looking at his troops with distaste. "What a waste of time having all the men gathered here. With a mere five hundred we’d be able to hold the river with ease."

"There’s that rumour about Zerok m-"

"Another word out of you, and I’ll disembowel you myself." He snapped. With Matsudaira gone, things should be looking up for him, but why did everything feel exactly the same? He had been a thorn in his side for the longest of times, and yet even with him gone, he still felt the same irritating itch. "A god would not interfere in the affairs of man. It is a rumour spread by a pathetic coward’s intent on shirking their duty."

The gate was raised temptingly, as it always was during sieges, and the moonlight glanced off the surface of the flowing river. It was a chilly night. Certainly not the kind of night one wanted to be caught outside waiting, feeling idiotic.

Each man held a small bow, so that they could reign down the maximum amount of fire. Not a single man was equipped with a spear, though no one neglected to bring a sword for the unlikely occasion that the enemy managed to make it to shore.

Torches were lit so that they could see the area around them, but perhaps they were more of a hinderance than an asset, as their eyes adjusted to the brightness, and their night vision was crippled, making it difficult to see ahead of them, and into the darkness along the river.

"I will give this ridiculousness five more minutes, and then we will send the troops back. What general would do exactly as he has forecast he would? It’s quite obviously a ploy to run us ragged, and ruin our sleep. To be here is an insult to my intelligence." He continued to complain quite loudly indeed, prompting some stealthy glances of contempt from those that had actually witnessed the terrifying words of Zenok the previous night.

He certainly did not have their loyalty. Their feet were not even faced towards the river. They had no intent of doing proper battle. As soon as anything supernatural happened, they would flee.

As all this went on, Imagawa was sound asleep, reassured that he would be well protected, casting such thoughts entirely from his mind. Such an insignificant force would crash against his wall like a thousand eggs. It was only the mess that they had need worry about cleaning up.

He was likely the only person asleep in the entire fortress. Even the servants were on edge, after hearing the rumours. They kept a close eye on the river side gate, waiting to see whether they truly were safe or not.

"MEN ON THE RIVER!" A scout called out, having better vision from his archer’s tower.

"MEN ON THE RIVER! FORM UP!" The officers responded immediately, bringing the men to attention. The sound of thousands of men moving and the creaking of their armour filled the courtyard, rather ominously indeed.

"Men on the river?" Okabe repeated with a frown. If it were a scout from his own personal forces who had reported something so lack-l.u.s.ter, he would have had him whipped on the spot. "HOW MANY SH.I.P.S?" He shouted up, his tone aggressive.

"I AM UNSURE, GENERAL! ONE... TWO! TWO SO FAR, LORD!" The scout replied nervously, unable to see as deeply into the dark as he would have liked to, attempting to try and find some extra piece of information that he might be able to give. "THE SH.I.P.S ARE OVERLOADED WITH MEN, LORD! THEY MAKE EASY TARGETS FOR OUR ARCHERS!"

The general tutted, but raised his hand for them to load none the less.

"NOCK!" His officers repeated the will of their general loudly, and soon, every man with a bow in his hand had an arrow ready, waiting for the order to draw as soon as the ship came within range.

There was an uncomfortable wait before the next command, and the men began to shift nervously, a terrifying feeling in the air. There had never been a feeling like this before battle. Not this kind of chill. This worming fear. There was even a light fog in the air, uncharacteristic of this time of year. They shared many an anxious glance with each other from beneath their helmets, their eyes wide and fearful.

When the ship finally drifted out from the darkness, they received the order gratefully.

"DRAW!" And a split second later, "LOOSE!"

It helped to instil a certain amount of confidence as they let loose that thick cloud of arrows. Thousands upon thousands. No matter man or beast, they would fall under such an onslaught. They heard it land with a satisfying thunk, and though they could not yet see the men – only the sh.i.p.s themselves - they knew they had hit their targets.

They shared a nervous laughter, releasing those nerves, breathing in a sigh of relief. It had been an illusion, one quickly shattered. This was business as usual. They had merely need follow orders, and the enemy would fall. Their confidence was reignited.

Even Okabe had a satisfied smile settling on his lips. "Well, I suppose this isn’t so bad." He decided. It was good to have sport in between major battles, and something like this filled the gap perfectly.

And then the ship caught their torchlight, and they saw a sea of men standing firmly on the decks of their sh.i.p.s, almost domineeringly. The light flickered off their black armour, giving them a demonic quality. If not for the assortment of arrows that decorated their bodies, then that display might not have unnerved them to the degree that it did.

Some figures had more than thirty arrows, and still stood straighter than most men did even without those kinds of injuries. Just what kind of monsters were they engaged with?

As that deadly disease of fear began to spread, a familiar voice made its powerful presence felt, asserting dominance across the vast field of battle.

MEN OF THE RED FEATHER... I GIVE YOU FIRE!

By its command, the front most ship burst into flame, entrapping all the men within. There was not a single scream of pain from them, as promised. Not the slightest change in their posture. Not a single man dropped his weapon.

Carried on by the river, the blazing boat drifted forward at a hauntingly slow pace. The men’s knees weakened and shook. Their bladders loosened, and their warm urine coated the floor, whipping up a foul stench.

"I-It was true..." The whisperings began. The holds on their weapons were pathetically loose. Fear had captured them entirely. They backed away, ever so slowly, tears moistening their eyes.

"DEMONS!" They shouted, horrified, and a few men even broke rank, unwilling to bear this anymore.

"A TRICK!" Okabe roared, convinced that they were being had. It was not many that truly listened to his claim, however, as they were too caught up in the moment. Seeing the men flee, he drew back his bow, and killed them with his own hand. "DESERTERS WILL BE KILLED ON THE SPOT!"

His officers took up the rule, and killed the few men that dared to flee in his place.

"LOAD YOUR ARROWS!" He barked, taking control of this chaotic battlefield, anger filling his voice. To be had by such a pathetic trick. As the ship neared, and was about to pass under the wall, he could tell – because he was looking for it in the first place – that the men wearing that armour and the men wielding those swords – they were not men of flesh, they were men of straw.

He knew this ship nearing them would not contain a single man. The flame had spread too wildly. It encompassed the entire boat. He would ready his men, and get them to fire at the second ship, which he knew would contain the soldiers that he sought.

’Pathetic attempt, rebels. Had it been another general, your ploy might have succeeded, but it is your misfortune that the true gods do not favour you, and it was me that you fought against today.’

As it passed under the gate inside of the wall, he was convinced that the men would soon be able to see the truth too, and he retained a certain calmness of mind, expecting such an eventuality.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM

And yet the world rocked, and that which they thought to be chaos was dwarfed. A tremor more powerful than an earthquake. It threw those nearest to it from their feet, and sent a cloud of rubble in its path. The catalyst. They could bear it no longer. Their ears rang, and their reality was destroyed. The men broke rank by the masses, and fled.