"I will not deny, I have a fondness for performers. I am lucky that my wife, Reenah, is a minstrel of no small skill. Listening to my Moon play or practice, sing or dance, is among my favorite ways to pass the time."
((Updated from the original with edits based upon feedback.))
Frost had already made crusty and firm the blades of grass in Gridania’s housing wards of the Lavender Beds. As dusk passed into night, the chill deepened and drove all in the Twelveswood city indoors to stay warm. They huddled by fires, warmed tea and coffee over stoves, and lay under blankets. Aetheric lights were turned on, torches lit, to ward away the darkness inside, while outside the many beads of crystalline streetlamps glowed just brighter than the light of the moon.
The Uesugi household, nestled in the middle of the district, was no exception. The fire crackled in the great stone fireplace, casting a yellow-orange glare through the basement where two of the three family members slept. Reenah sat at the fire, curled in a blanket in her robe with spiced cocoa in hand as she studied her book. She’d been hard at work for some time now, studying the aetheric arts and sciences. An interest borne of a desire to find a solution to Haruka’s draconic affliction, for the keeper it became a subject she wanted to learn for herself as much as for her wife’s sake.
The chop-chop of a knife on a cutting board resonated in fast rhythm as Haruka cut vegetables for beef-and-barley soup. Pot already on the flame, the spicy meal bubbled slightly. The bow of the yukata’s obi at the small of her back bobbed as she passed the knife over another trio of carrots and carefully dropped them into the broth. She reached over and gave it a stir with the spoon sticking out of it. Pausing, she took a sip of her tea.
The squeak of door hinges made her stop. The front door had gained a slight squeal in the past few moons, one that no one was in a hurry to remedy after the attempted assassination some time ago. Haruka looked behind her at Reenah, who met her eyes. Never again would they be caught so unprepared. Drawing a second knife from the block, Haruka moved to ascend the stairs. Reenah was right behind, the dagger that marked her as an Uesugi in its lacquered sheath, ready to be drawn.
At the top of the stairs, just before heading into the house’s dojo-like space, Haruka stopped. Their footsteps had been absolutely silent as they climbed. She glanced back, meeting Reenah’s eyes for a moment, then slipped around the corner.
And stopped.
At the door waited two women. One was hyur with brown-black hair. Her brown eyes shimmered with golden speckles in the light. Robes of light and dark pinks were half open, ornate and warm, of an origin that Haruka couldn’t know but was likely somewhere in the Steppes. The other, clad in similar garb of red and brown, was a raen, horns swept back through pink and blue hair. Each had their weapons stowed, the hyur’s set aside.
Gazing at Haruka, Kumiko let out a huff. It would have seemed indignant were it not for the nerves that showed in her eyes. “Kami, I’m surprised it took you this long to get up here.”
Reenah rounded the corner, finding Haruka still stalled, unmoving. Her wife had worried greatly over their adopted daughter these past weeks with the only word from her being the note left on the table and a single linkpearl conversation a ten-day before their return. The way her heart had ached for that time caught up in a single moment. Haruka was breathless, unmoving.
Kumiko shifted on her feet. Kiku looked both nervous and awkward in the momentary silence. What was going on? Wasn’t Haruka glad to see her daughter home?
A touch at the elder Uesugi’s arm restarted time, gave her breath again. Looking around, Haruka looked to Reenah who nodded. “Let’s not keep them waiting, hmm?” she whispered. She understood, of course. Reenah knew her heart better than anyone.
Turning back, she set the knives down on the bamboo planter and rounded it, each step was almost painfully slow, restrained and intentional. Reenah was just behind, then next to her, catching up quickly, the ladies Uesugi in their own home. Her own pace was less stiff, much more relaxed.
Kumiko stared, her own breath becoming shallow. She knew she’d messed up, but she didn’t think it’d be this bad. She couldn’t tell what Haruka was feeling. Her mask was up, breaking but intact. Was she truly that angry? Sure, Kumiko had run off, leaving but a few words on a slip of paper for them to find. She’d not contacted them until they were on their way to the Steppes. But she couldn’t tell them what she was doing, not yet. She didn’t know what they would do. She had to do this without them, to stand on her own two feet after that terrible bout with Shona that broke her confidence.
Was Haruka so angry she would lash out? No, that wasn’t her. Would she and Reenah cast her out, disown her? Would she have to go back to her drunk of a father and suffer his wrath again? Would Kiku help her, take her in until she had her own place to go? Where would she go?
They stopped just in front of Kumiko. The young woman’s eyes were wide. Their breathing was measured, both mother and daughter’s shallow and quick.
Slowly, Haruka’s hands rose, taking gentle hold of Kumiko’s shoulders. She gazed into her daughter’s eyes for a heartbeat, then another, then another. Another came to rest, lower on her arm, as Reenah added hers where she could.
“Mom?” Kumiko’s voice cracked. Her eyes darted between Haruka and Reenah, still uncertain, even with the gestures of comfort. Which she was referring to was unknown. But did it matter?
“Did you finish what you needed to do?” Haruka said finally. Despite the mask hiding her emotions, her voice broke with unshed tears.
“I did.”
Haruka nodded. Slowly, she slipped her arms around Kumiko. Her daughter relaxed and returned the embrace, holding her mother. “We’re proud of you,” her mother whispered.
Kumiko giggled her own nerves washing away with tears that fell. Her whole body felt looser, nearly collapsing into her mother’s arms. “You don’t even know what we went to do,” she managed, barely, through a voice broken.
“We don’t need to,” Haruka said, voice choked with emotion. A warmth flowed through the words, despite the tears that now gathered and seeped underneath closed eyelids. “Whatever it was, you needed to do it. We’re just glad you’re back.” Trust was in short supply in the Uesugi household. But they had it with one another.
Another set of arms folded around them as Reenah joined. Those lavender eyes found Kiku, smiling softly from her position off to the side. That her girlfriend was accepted so earnestly, that she wasn’t being chastised, was something she only could have hoped for. That for all the distance that had begun their little venture, Kumiko was not only allowed to return but pulled back into the fold without hesitation.
The keeper’s hand reached out and snatched the raen, sweeping her into hug. Kiku yelped but joined in quickly enough. Letting out a huff, Reenah settled back into their combined embrace, holding her family close. She’d be damned if she didn’t make sure Kiku knew she was welcome in this family.
Somehow, amidst this quiet moment, Haruka’s eyes rose to meet Kiku’s. Tears stained her cheeks underneath bloodshot blue eyes, relief and joy having returned and expressed without being held back. “Thank you,” she mouthed. For what, she didn’t say, at least not then, but perhaps the reason was clear: Kiku had gone with Kumiko. Kiku had helped keep her daughter safe. And in the end, they’d both come back, returned from whatever quest they’d gone on.
In the coming bells, they would speak of what happened: of Kumiko’s drunken father, the letter he sent, their time in the Azim Steppes, and crucially, meeting the Dotharl tribe. The secret that the young Doman’s father was afraid to tell anyone was made open to everyone, with a hint of pride. They sat around the table, eating soup with bread, and later warmed themselves by the fire with cocoa and tea and coffee.
Shiba’s gravelly voice scraped against Haruka’s ears as she rose from her knees. Even now that aethersickness didn’t bother her nearly so much with the ryuujin’s presence and the tie to Bilei, the trip from the Mist to Othard was not short. A distance that before would have left the samurai nearly unconscious now only made her lightheaded, but she still needed time to rest. To hear her magistrate’s harsh tones when she first arrived and still bent over was less than welcome.
Not the least because Shiba Tanemune only met her at the aetheryte when there was something serious at hand.
Haruka raised a hand, finger up. “One moment, Shiba,” she breathed. The half-Doman was nearly panting for the exertion of teleporting so far. “Just one moment.”
Shiba sighed and turned, giving his Lady some peace.
It was a rest that didn’t extend to her retainer, however. She felt a hand on her back, rubbing slightly. “It is quite far to travel,” Sute said with humor in your voice. “But still, at least you aren’t this way with every little technique you use.” It was a jibe, but not a cruel one. Sute, the former mercenary who Haruka and Reenah had brought into their clan as a means of redemption for the young woman, had begun to regain some of her old humor of late. Her recovery after her fall into Kugane’s harbor that had shattered the Doman woman’s body was proceeding apace, and with sword in hand she’d begun training once again with Shiba and Haruka’s distant cousin, Megumi. With things returning to a sort of normal and purpose restored, Sute felt more free to be herself. Haruka and Reenah encouraged this return, and even if Haruka and Sute never returned to the nearly flirtatious friendship they had before, it was good to see the woman she’d met aboard the 88th’s airship return to something akin to her old self.
“There was once a time I did,” Haruka said, playing along. “But then I turned five.”
Sute chuckled. She’d heard Haruka’s history of learning her arts and understood quite well exactly when she’d first picked up the blades. Continuing to rub her back, she went quiet, smiling a little.
After a few more moments, the raven-haired hyur straightened and took in a deep breath. “Now, what brought you out here, Shiba?”
Shiba sighed and faced her full on now. The kimono and hakama he wore were his formal set, but there was mud smeared on the pleats over his thighs. The scabbard of the warrior’s blade was brushed with dirt, something he would normally have taken care of. “We might have a situation,” he said, taking a slightly informal approach to his wording. His arm rose, and he offered her a dagger. It was dirty but otherwise in good repair, clearly used and sharpened multiple times if the slight nicks on the flat were any indication.
Haruka shook her head in confusion as she took the blade. “It is a dagger. Many carry daggers. Should I be…”
Voice dying, she tested the weight, hefting the blade in her hand. With a flip of the wrist, she set it atop one of her fingers, hilt parallel to her finger, and released it. It was nearly perfectly balanced from tip to pommel.
Shiba waited. He saw the recognition in his lady’s demeanor.
“You came from the bamboo forests, then.” It was a guess, but one that accounted for the mud without Shiba’s clothes being messy. Flipping her hand, Haruka took the dagger by the blade.
“Further,” the magistrate replied. “It was raining near the old castellum.”
Haruka’s eyes flicked from Shiba to Sute. The retainer nodded. “I went with, thinking it best he not be alone out there. There are still some bandits, after all, even if your bastard of an uncle isn’t backing them any longer. We went over the, um…” she gave Shiba a confused look.
“Grey Hare Bridge.”
“Yeah, that. We went over that and up to the broken lands when we were caught in a storm. We managed to catch shelter with one of the scouts out that way, and he explained what he found.”
Stepping in close, Shiba lowered his voice. “He managed to get close to the castellum. He heard voices inside, but he never ended up going inside, instead choosing to contact us. After the storm we took a look, and we found no one. But we did find that.”
Haruka looked back down at knife in her hand. It was single-bladed but straight, the edge arcing near the tip to form a point on one side. The grip was solid light wood but unremarkable, hilt metal and strong. Well made, but there was no maker’s mark visible. She suspected there would be none, even on the tang. “No rust, so it’s not from an old resistance raid or camp. It still has an edge, recently ground on a whetstone.”
“And there’s no enchantment on it,” Sute said. “We had some of the smiths look at it, and they found nothing.”
Haruka paused, pondering. “No sign of miners or other workers? Maybe drifters?” Sute shook her head. She sighed and shook her head. “Alright. Send out the scouts in pairs. We cannot risk that whoever this is might not be preparing something nefarious. I will contact Reenah; perhaps she can begin training more. Shiba, send…” she paused then shook her head. “No, I will give orders to the patrols myself. Best I do it with Megumi present.”
Shiba raised a brow. “You’re trusting her a lot, recently.”
“I am. She proved herself loyal, and she needs the practice.”
Sute looked between them. “I can go on a couple patrols. Uesugi Megumi can take one in a direction, I can take another.”
Shiba looked skeptical, but Haruka nodded before he could say anything. “That is a good plan. No one is alone, but trusted commanders will be guiding our troops.”
“And I keep the watch rotating in Takko,” Shiba said.
“Good,” Haruka said with a hint of finality. “Let me get dressed appropriately and contact Reenah on the pearl. You two gather the troops who are awake. Let the ones who are asleep rest and have them take guard shifts in town. We meet in one bell at the training grounds.”
They parted, and Haruka made her way to the apartments. With the House of Summer still being constructed – and likely ending up much smaller than previously anticipated to save on resources – they had what some would consider meager quarters that they shared with their daughter when she was around. However, it gave them adequate space to be themselves, with the wall having been mostly soundproofed and with space enough to sit, eat, and sleep. It was utilitarian in a way Haruka liked. She would likely miss it when they were in the rebuilt lord’s home, a place that would be more appropriate to her rank.
But as she walked, the Lady of the Southern River Valley thought little of the progress they had made with Takko and Xiatien. Instead, her thoughts went to the dagger still in her hand. A plain dagger, unornamented, could easily belong to any hunter. But with an edge so sharp and with little damage, it clearly had only seen a little use. It was not a stretch for the weapon to belong to some shinobi in their territory with ill intent. Perhaps it was the Iga returned for vengeance, despite their deal. Or maybe the Saito clan had infiltrated her territory. Or it could be any number of other enemies. Truly, it was better to be prepared, to take care and investigate than not. And not just with troops, but with other resources.
Haruka, in her role as lord of the region, never forgot where she came from, those old lessons her father taught her: prepare for the worst, strike when and where it is unexpected, and keep your best resources away from the prying eyes of any others.
The repairs to the streets had been finished. Flat-topped and without many great gaps between individual stones, Takko’s avenues were covered in a sleek grey stone, similar to the sloped walls of the House of Summer’s terrace. Carts passing over would only find a few bumps in their path. The stonemasons and stone layers obviously took pride in their work to have such a fine path through their central road through the small town.
Small, but growing. Haruka and Reenah walked into the small market of Xiatien’s main settlement and found crowds -- honest crowds -- of people buying goods or trading services for their needs. Not truly long ago, the people of Takko were downtrodden, plagued by bandits and trying to merely survive to see another sunrise. Now, they talked and laughed and plied their trade. Their ashigaru guards, trained from a group of volunteers, held their vigil, but there didn’t seem to be any odd events for them to intervene. For now, at least, there was peace.
Apparently, there were also a number of newcomers, as only about half the people present bowed to her and Reenah as they passed. Well dressed traders and rugged travellers were beginning to come downriver, seeking to trade on the frontiers between Doma and Nagxia, and word of the region’s slow ascent had apparently encouraged immigration as craftsmen and farmers took to the markets to sell their bounty. Their efforts -- the daimyo and her wife’s, as well as the joint efforts of her magistrate and the people of Takko themselves -- were bearing fruit.
But today, the two had business. The iron was hot, and Haruka, who had happened to find the opportunity, would make sure her people saw sparks from the new venture. There were just some hurdles to overcome.
Haruka’s eyes flitted about, taking in all the goods and services, bowing her head on occasion when someone caught sight and paid the traditional respect to their station. Despite the functional kimono and hakama she wore, she was noticeable by the family crest and the ornate sword at her side. The lovely Keeper on her arm was certainly also a good indicator, however, dressed in a floral printed silk kimono that accented her maroon hair. It was Reenah’s thought that they should make this appearance at the market more official than not, for despite her wife’s misgivings and desire for subtlety. After all, to see the Lady of the Southern River Valley, the woman who redeemed the Uesugi, strolling through town to see after her people, perhaps they would feel pride in their home.
And so they did, as Haruka saw merchants display their better, more valuable wares more prominently. Bowls of ceramic, bamboo, and wood were displayed, each with designs carved or painted into the glaze itself. Pots with images of samurai stood beside hanging scrolls of Doman characters. The blacksmith sold not only horseshoes, utensils, and tools, but also blades, complete with a hallmark pressed just before the tang, where the tsuba would go in longer swords and a grommet would be fitted for a dagger.
“You’re not seeing anything yet,” Reenah said in quiet Eorzean. And it was true. None of the goods seemed to catch the woman’s eye for more than a moment. When Haruka shook her head, Reenah nodded slowly. “There is a lot to sort through. And I know you want this perfect. Best not to squander this chance with Amirah’s house, hmm?”
“Perfection may be what we need to look for unfortunately,” Haruka replied. “Her low standing in the house makes it all the more difficult, as they may not take her word. I can only hope her father looks kindly upon her and that will help all parties involved.”
It was a worry Reenah had heard before, but she merely nodded again and gazed out over the market. “You seem more worried about this than you have with other business with the village.”
Haruka winced. It wasn’t an accusation, but it still made her cheeks grow a little pink in embarrassment at being so plainly seen through. “She sees herself as a liability to the Shamaat because of her heritage. They do not value her.”
Reenah went silent. Of course, of anyone, she would understand Haruka’s need to help the young woman. They’d both been treated the same way since returning the clan to the fold, only managing to scrape together some respect with the fruits of their labors. “Well, we’ll see that settled, then,” she said, her voice blending with the general murmur of the crowd for all but Haruka.
“Thank you,” her wife said, barely audible, herself.
After a moment, a cat-like ear flicked, and the Keeper turned. There was a barely restrained smile as she found the violinist who happened to catch her sensitive hearing. “I see an opportunity, love,” she said. “Perhaps we should divide and conquer, and we can both make headway with our people and find the right way to help Amirah.”
The half-Doman nodded, then pressed a small kiss to Reenah’s lips. Between her and her two partners, Haruka was always publicly more affectionate among the somewhat conservative Domans. “Enjoy yourself, my moon,” she said. The softness in her voice was a rarity, reserved for a spare few.
As Reenah left, Haruka’s gaze followed after her for a spare few moments before turning to the nearby stalls. Marchants haggled, dealing fish and rice, exchanging coin for pottery. Townspeople went to and fro, stopping at a stall for a moment, picking up a piece, then setting it down to pick up another. It was a normal day for them, and they had business to handle. Soon enough, the farmers were leave their stalls, heading back to the fields they tended and pastures their beasts grazed on, while the craftsmen would box up their wares and put them on carts or walk them back to their homes. What was sold here was essential, as befitting the poor region of greater Doma. The people had been desperate for so long, victim to Garlean and rebel in their ongoing fight for the land of the Kami. They had no real room for luxuries like what Haruka was looking for.
Haruka approached a number of stalls one by one, some well built with shingles on the roof, others barely qualifying as being worthy of being called a lean-to. Each merchant bowed respectfully, showed their appreciation for the lord of the Southern River Valley’s visit, and revealed their best wares. It seemed automatic. They were trying to impress her, seek validation for their work as much as show appreciation for her and Reenah’s for their efforts. It was handy that Haruka didn’t actually have to ask -- one of the few benefits of being a lord.
However, their best wasn’t quite what she was looking for. Haruka would love to own such a beautiful ceramic tea set for her home, or make dinner for Reenah and Kumiko in such a fine iron skillet, embossed with patterns. The fine wood furniture was well made and would withstand the test of time. At each stall, she showed appreciation for her countryman’s work, and a couple times the samurai even convinced a nearby villager to buy it, if it was cheap enough and they needed such an item. Several wall scrolls bearing Doman proverbs in the local language or art were tucked under her arm as examples of calligraphy and Doman weaving.
Scrolls under her arms, she glanced about, searching for more and sighing. Perhaps she could find something from the Enclave to hand over to Amirah but that would defeat their purpose. While they could help little with farming or craftsmanship, Haruka and Reenah had a chance to bring honest gil to Xiatien, taken from Thavnairians with money to spare. A treaty or contract was something they could help with, and should, given the chance. They just needed to find the perfect piece to convince Amirah to make the contract. Haruka looked around in the center of the market, hiding her consternation but feeling the unease of potential failure settle like a ball of lead in her stomach.
A scent wafted through the air. Fire. Coals. Burning… stone? Haruka turned. That wasn’t the heavy tang of iron she smelled. Through a door to a nearby shop, she could see a small, flickering flame. Above the door was a sign carved with a single pot. Despite the faint onset of dread, Haruka’s curiosity rose and overwhelmed her. Tilting her head, she took a slow step toward the door, then a second, then she was following the call.
Inside was what appeared to be a forge. There was an anvil, but there were also multiple tables, including ones with petals that spun. A layer of grit seemed to cover many surfaces, as if dirt or clay had been flung everywhere. Near the back, a man -- no, perhaps just a boy -- worked on something that seemed to glow on a pair of tongs. Haruka approached him, her steps intentionally making sound on the stone floor to alert him.
He still didn’t notice her. The boy was still so absorbed in his work that he didn’t realize someone had entered the workshop.
When she was perhaps a half dozen fulm away, Haruka cleared her throat. The boy jumped. The glowing creation on his tongs nearly fell with his loosened grip. Eyes were wide when he gazed at her, and while she couldn’t quite see, she could see blue eyes under his brow. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you!” he stumbled out quickly. Then he saw the crest on Haruka’s chest and he inhaled sharply. “Lady Uesugi! I am so sorry!”
The boy made to bow, but Haruka lifted a hand. “No need for that, young one. Might I ask your name?” Her eyes drifted to the creation. Was that… glass?
“Tatsunori, though most just call me Tatsu.” He shook his dark hair. How old was he? Sixteen? Maybe seventeen?
“And what is it you work on, Tatsu?”
The boy looked down at the creation, then shook his head. “I-it’s nothing, my lady. Just a bit of fancy.”
“A bit of fancy I am interested in knowing about. Please, explain.” Haruka watched the boy recoil a little. Perhaps that was a little too firm when she was genuinely interested. However, it had the intended result.
“It’s a glass figure. I hope to make a crane out of it, though they are rare around here.” He took the rapidly cooling piece and dipped it into the flames. When he pulled it out, the melted sand was glowing a bright orange. Lifting what appeared to be a thin iron stake, he rotated the piece and poked it into the glass, slowly pulling it forth and molding it. It was the neck, Haruka saw as it curved. He then nudged parts of the top of the curve, creating the head. Shears were taken up next, and he snipped where the beak would end before molding it slightly with the needle.
“Where did you learn how to do this?” Haruka asked with some fascination. She’d of course seen glass figures before, but to know such a craftsman lived in Takko was a surprise.
Tatsu’s focused expression turned a little sad. “My grandmother, before she passed. She wanted to pass along the trade. My father also knows, but he’s been so focused on trying to support me and my mother that he hasn’t made anything but bowls and plates and some utensils in such a long time.”
Haruka nodded and sighed. Such a waste, she thought, but this was the way of those who had lived in the village of Takko during the occupation. “Will your creation remain intact if you set it down? Do you have anything else that you can show?”
The boy nodded and set down the tongs, letting the half-made crane hang from the iron before rushing off deeper into the workshop and through a rear door. He seemed so excited to show her that she had to wonder if no one else appreciated what he did.
He soon returned, however, with two pieces. One was a lithe figure with four legs and a feline head. Small scratchings were made along the pelt in stripes that would reveal the figure to be a tiger had the shape not already done so. The other, however, took her breath away. As he set it down, she saw a pair of birds sitting on a branch. So intricately detailed, from tiny beaks and eyes to the etchings on feathers, she couldn’t help but be amazed. This was a portrayal of the Uesugi mon in realistic form. Haruka knelt to gaze at the details, taking in all of it.
“Tatsu, what are you doing?” said a voice. It wasn’t harsh so much as firm. Haruka rose to face whoever it was, and he took a step back. “Lady Uesugi?!” Long brown hair overhung a broad body and a dirty kimono, covered in ash and dust. Green eyes glowed, wide at the appearance of the Lady of Xiatien.
“Aonji, if I remember correctly,” Haruka said openly, bowing slightly.
The merchant and smith bowed deeply. “Yes, my lady. My apologies for you seeing me like this, and for my boy bothering you.”
Haruka quickly shook her head. “He was not bothering me, Aonji. Tatsu was kind enough to show me his collection when I asked. He is quite talented.”
Aonji swelled with pride and gave his son a soft look, burgeoning with affection. Tatsu puffed out his chest, so pleased at the compliment that he appeared fit to burst. There was so much love there in the look between them that Haruka couldn’t help but feel a little envious of their relationship. How would her own life be different had her father cared so deeply about her. “He is,” the father said. “I have tried to give him time to create, but I often need help with the forge and wheels.”
“That is unfortunate. And I hear you enjoy the art, as well?” Haruka’s mind was reeling at the chance encounter. Nymeia certainly had her influence here, just as the Kami did.
“I do,” he said. There was some hesitation before he continued. “M-may I show you some of what I’ve created?”
Haruka nodded, and he rushed off. What composure the craftsman had maintained was swiftly falling away. Had no one taken interest in his art before, besides his own family? Or was it that her lord was there asking? She couldn’t be sure, but his excitement was on full display when he returned with multiple pieces. Bears and tigers, beasts of burden and birds locked in flight, many colored to reflect reality. The man was an artist alongside his prodigy of a son. Haruka marveled at it all, her eyes wide as she took in all the tiny details.
“Do our creations please you, my lady?” Aonji asked hesitantly. He was standing beside Tatsu, a hand on his shoulder.
Haruka nodded. “Yes. Yes, quite a lot. And I believe I may have an opportunity for you.” She straightened, passing her gaze before the two. “Would you consider selling some of your pieces?”
Aonji’s eyes widened and Tatsu’s jaw dropped. “Yes, we would love to, as long as our work gets out into the world.”
True artists, Haruka thought. She knew that feeling all too well. “I am attempting to find a pieces to sell by contract to a Thavnairian merchant house. I was hoping to add some of your pieces to the shipments. You would be compensated accordingly, of course, though I would have to take some of the profits to benefit the Valley.”
Tatsu’s eyes widened. “Thavnair? So far? How?”
Haruka smiled warmly at the boy. “I have my contacts, young Tatsu, and I happened upon this opportunity by chance.”
Aonji looked at his son, then back to Haruka. “Yes, I think we would be more than willing to have our pieces be sold. Can we have some time to determine what we would be willing to part with?”
Haruka nodded. “Absolutely. I will be in Takko for a few more suns. Feel free to find me when you have determined what you would like to sell.”
Tatsu was grinning ear to ear. He not only was being recognized for his work, but also helping his home and see his name be sent far and wide. It was a chance of a lifetime. Slowly, he pulled himself from his father’s hand on his shoulder and took up the sparrows. Slowly, he gazed at it, pride showing in his eyes at his own work, then offered it to Haruka in both hands. “A gift, my lady.”
Taking the piece, in both hands, careful not to drop her scrolls, she gazed at the piece. After a few shallow breaths, the samurai bowed to the pair. “Thank you, Tatsu. It will show proudly in my home, and later the House of Summer when it is rebuilt. And thank you, Aonji, for accepting my intrusion into your workshop.”
The boy beamed, and Aonji looked a trifle embarrassed. “No, my lady. Thank you.”
Haruka left shortly after some mild pleasantries. She needed to talk to Reenah, and she had some commissions she wanted to mull over before speaking with them again. As she left, however, her sensitive ears managed to overhear a few last words from Aonji to his son.
“Come, my son. We are going to make you a hallmark stamp so others will know who made your pieces.”
There was so much pride in his father’s voice. Tears rose in Haruka's eyes.
