Part 2: Doma Castle
Percival did not head immediately into the first village they saw, leading her first to a lonely copse of trees where it looked like no one was around. “All right. We made it. You can cry now.”
But though she sat obediently under a tree, she didn’t feel like crying. She had cried yesterday, whether she wanted to or not, and now while the terror of her recent experiences still churned deep inside her, she felt pretty okay on the outside. Especially after that lady had been kind to her. Still, a quiet minute to relax would not be unwelcome, and she sat, and breathed.
But Percival sat across from her on a fallen log, leaning on his knees to look into her face, and he knew how to get her. “Hey. I’m proud of you. You did so good.”
“Are you proud of me for killing someone?” she asked, and immediately her throat felt thick and choked.
“Yes. I told you: it was you or him. I’m proud of you for being able to use your training without hesitation, for keeping it together until I got there. You’re a brave, strong girl.”
“But I didn’t keep it together,” she said, and the tears burst. “I panicked immediately. I’m not brave or strong at all.” She wasn’t like her father, her parents after all.
He pulled her into a hug on his lap as she sobbed, and she hid her face in her sleeves. “How many other people might have gone right to pieces instead of helping me get the hells out of the country? Let it out, let it out. You’ve been through hell, and it’s gonna take time to recover, but you have to let it out when you can.”
“I killed someone,” she sobbed. “Someone died.” Somehow the horror of her own actions was easier to focus on than the horror of the actions of those who assaulted her.
“He died quickly,” Percival said soothingly. “If you hadn’t killed him, I would have, and I might have killed him slowly, in anger. I did kill one of the other ones. You did nothing wrong.”
She didn’t normally like being touched, and Percival desperately needed a bath and his clothes a wash, but the hug was such a relief. She wept and sobbed and wailed, and he just held her, and his breathing, and the occasional squeeze about the shoulders, steadied her. She wasn’t alone.
They returned to the village for the night, but even the next day when they set out again, he didn’t go inland right away. “I doubt any authorities will pursue us overseas for the murder of a couple of drunken lechs. But there’s no need to be predictable, either. Let’s head south.”
“Percival,” she said, and he stopped, because she so rarely called on him. “I want to learn how to fight.”
He turned and looked at her, worn-out and still sad and scared from her recent experiences. “The knife-work not enough?”
She shook her head firmly. “I want to fight with a sword as you do. I want to stand beside you when you work. I don’t want to be a burden any longer.” She wanted metal armour. And respect. Maybe Percival didn’t get much respect but he had more than she did. She didn’t want to be seen as a victim or as prey anymore. She wanted to be the one to protect others, to be relied upon.
“You’re not a burden,” he said. “You’re a responsibility. There’s a difference.”
“I want to take some responsibility for myself,” she said. “I’m becoming old to be adopted, and I have no wish to be married in the near future. I still do not have many skills besides being able to read and write, to speak Eorzean, to tend wounds and do a little cooking. You can teach me to fight.”
“I can only teach you Eorzean style,” he said. “To wear metal armour, to wield a straight sword and a shield, you’ll stand out as much as I do. Worse, even.”
“But I won’t be defenceless,” she said.
“You won’t be any safer. You will be risking injury and death every time you put it on. You will get hurt, and it will be painful. You will have to kill or be killed, and it isn’t always monsters that we fight. None of this is optional. Seven hells, you’ve seen me work. You will have to endure even greater physical and mental hardship, and you will have to learn to kill.”
“I understand.” She met his gaze with determination. Her innocence was already gone. She wanted this more than anything. “This is what my father did. This is what you do. You only kill when there is no other option, and you are merciful and swift. …And perhaps I can protect you for a change.”
He softened and laughed. “That would be gratifying for you, wouldn’t it? All right. You want to be a mercenary knight adventurer, I’m not going to go easy on you.”
She nodded. “I won’t back down.”
It wasn’t easy. Percival found two straight branches on a pine tree, cut them off, and carved wooden swords from them with a knife. In the meantime, he put Achiyo through strengthening exercises. She had stamina from the travelling they had done over the years, but she lacked upper body strength. Too, her footwork training intensified; what she had learned when he taught her self-defence was expanded and took on new meanings.
She needed something to fight in for her lower body that wasn’t a yukata, and he showed her how to make rough Eorzean-style braies from spare fabric – extremely unstylish, and probably indecent in proper society, but she could move her legs properly and freely without worrying about her modesty. Armour was out of reach for the time being. “I’m going to have to save even harder for that,” Percival said, pretending to groan the evening they discussed it, whittling away at one of the swords.
“Think of it as an investment,” she said, flopped drained by the fire after a full day of walking and training. “Once I am equipped, we can earn money twice as fast as I fight at your side.”
“And spend it twice as fast, keeping it in repair,” he retorted. “But yes. And we don’t need to get it all at once. A breastplate, first. Full cuirass. Pauldrons. Greaves. Getting the quality to match will be a pain if we can’t find a consistent armourer to do it.”
“What about a helmet?” she asked. “Why have you never worn one?”
He shrugged. “Good armour comes with a level of enchantment that extends to your whole body. It’s enough that I choose to have full vision and have to duck the occasional arrow, rather than weather the arrows but not see my peripherals as well.” He hefted the sword, testing its balance, whittled some more. “And a good shield does the rest.”
She was clumsy at first, despite her earlier training; she found the practice sword heavy even with both hands on the cloth-wrapped grip. Percival’s steel sword wasn’t so heavy, being that it was thinner, but he shrugged and said it would just make her faster when she got her own steel sword. He was still focusing on speed in her training, making her run and jump for what seemed bells, but now she did all the woodsplitting for their fires, with their tiny axe, or she had to repeatedly pull up her own body to a tree branch with her arms alone, or move increasingly heavy logs and stones. “What if I get hurt and you have to drag me off the field?” he asked.
She gave her rock a final shove to put it over the finish line he’d marked and slumped on it, panting. “I think you had better not get hurt for a few years.”
He grinned. “That’s the plan.”
She went to bed each night utterly exhausted now, and was not without regrets as she was dragged from her bedroll each morning to begin anew. But he was thoughtful and careful about it all, making sure not to injure her by going too fast, feeding her well, massaging her aching shoulders. She did enjoy learning the techniques with the sword, and after a while a wooden shield as well, enjoyed the sparring sessions most out of every day. She wondered if this was something that honoured her parents, though the style was different. She hoped it was. She wanted them to be proud of her choice.
He set the guidelines quickly and firmly – he had experience in more than simply fighting through the world on his own, didn’t he? “And in battle, we’re not going to be as we usually are. In battle, I’m the captain, and you are the subordinate. Follow my orders and we’ll make it through anything alive.”
“Yes, sir,” she said, as she had heard other soldiers do when her father gave orders, and he looked surprisingly shocked for a moment before he nodded approvingly.
After only a few moons, he let her come work with him whenever he had a job. The manual labour tasks were simple enough, but if he was asked to fight some beasts or monsters, she would follow him at a little distance, wooden sword and shield at the ready, and watch. If anything broke past him, wolf or oversized vilekin or once even a tiger, she could defend herself until he could come to finish it off.
For some reason, she found herself much more calm and focused when fighting creatures than she had expected. Perhaps it was because she had more control over her situation than when she was only a helpless observer. Already she felt like less of a burden, and she felt like the two of them had bonded in a new way. In sparring, they didn’t have to speak, yet they communicated. They had a common goal now.
The local dialects in Doma were different from Hingan, but they were more similar than she had expected. Of even more surprise to her was the fact that many people spoke Eorzean. But when she asked why that might be, the villagers she was speaking to looked darkly and for a minute no one spoke. “The Empire,” said one, speaking in a secretive voice, and they all looked or pointed – without actually looking or pointing – to the northwest.
“You’re new here, right? A word of advice – try to speak Eorzean if you see any Garleans around. Otherwise they’ll think you’re plotting against them.”
“And you’re not safe even when there aren’t Garleans around,” said another. “They pay local folks for information.”
“Oh,” she said. At least she already knew Eorzean. “Thank you.”
“And tell your father to be careful,” said another one. “We don’t get many Eorzean travellers here, and they might think he’s a deserter from their army.”
“He is not my father, but I will tell him,” she said.
“Adopted father? No?”
“My guardian,” she said. “And my teacher.”
She met up with Percival later and told them, and he nodded grimly. “I wasn’t planning on running into any Garleans anyway. They nabbed the country of Ala Mhigo just before I left. They had their eyes on Eorzea after that, and not in a friendly way.”
“Do you worry about them?”
He shrugged. “I haven’t heard anything about Eorzea one way or another, so I assume they’re still free. Not much my worry will do from here.”
“What will we do, though? They must… I don’t know, patrol around?”
“Not as much as you might think,” he said. “I’m getting the sense that they don’t see the need in most places here. Doma was pretty heavily subjugated about… thirteen years ago, and the nobles are playing along with them enough that they can devote the majority of their forces elsewhere on Hydaelyn. Like Eorzea.” He growled the last bit.
“So…”
“So it’s likely we’ll see them coming. As for local spies, not much we can do about that.”
“You could wear a Doman hat,” she said. “Then you will not look so out of place from a distance.”
He chuckled. “And what about my armour? Well, I’ll think about it. It can’t be any worse than dealing with drunken Hingan samurai.”
Their travels were surprisingly quiet for a while nonetheless, moving across the coast of the Ruby Sea, meeting tribes of Kojin, learning to avoid the Confederacy, but eventually their path led inevitably up the One River, to the city of Monzen. It seemed to be much more humble than Kugane, which was perhaps one reason why Percival did not avoid it the way he had avoided Hingashi’s great cities, besides Hingashi’s unfriendliness to foreigners. But the work around Monzen was good, and combined with Doma having no policy against foreign travellers, the two of them found Percival gaining a bit of a reputation around the city.
He would have left immediately when he realized, but it was already too late – the very day that he found that he was well-known, a messenger arrived from Kaien-sama inviting them to Doma Castle.
There was nothing for it but to go with the messenger. Achiyo wore her nicest kimono – which was still very plain, it wasn’t like they normally visited high-ranking people – and her sakura hairpin, and they followed the messenger through the city and into the great castle. She could not help looking around at it all, she had never been anywhere so lavishly decorated with bright paints and intricate carvings and even gilded ornaments, not even in a temple. Monzen might be more humble than Kugane on the outside, but it was still wealthy, just most of the wealth was concentrated here. Many of the floors inside were covered in rich rugs and carpets, and she had never seen anything like that before either. Guards in sombre uniforms lined the halls, and that was a little intimidating.
They came to a huge hall in the centre of the castle, and here courtiers mingled and chattered in soft voices. They were all dressed in such splendid robes, with such elaborate hairdos and jewels and hats, that Achiyo felt as shabby as dust and shrank behind Percival. Percival didn’t seem to notice, standing as tall as ever.
Yet the man they were led to, while a very tall man for a Hyur, taller than Percival, was not the most richly dressed of them all. In fact, he was rather simply dressed in a practical red robe with only a brocade obi for ornament. Though his grey-shot dark hair was pulled back from his face, it was rather wild, not neatly combed and oiled like the ministers around him. “Thank you for bringing them to me, Tosho. You may go.” The messenger bowed and left, leaving them with the man – and the eyes of the court watching them carefully. Achiyo wished she could become invisible. She even saw a pair of Garleans, surely they must be, from how their crisp black military uniforms stood out among the brightly coloured robes. She edged nervously closer to Percival as the tall man began to address him. “I am Kaien. I offer you greetings and welcome to Doma.” He was speaking accented Eorzean, for the Garleans’ benefit, she was sure.
“Thank you,” Percival said. “What can I do for you, my lord?”
“I only wanted to know what brings an Eorzean and a Hingan, together, to my realm,” Kaien-sama said mildly.
Percival seemed to remember his manners with a bit of a start. “I’m Percival Byers, a mercenary from Gridania; this is Achiyo Kensaki, daughter of Tamehiro Kensaki, samurai of Hingashi. She is my ward, her parents are dead. We came to Doma to earn a living.”
“Very bold of you, so far from home,” Kaien murmured. “It is an honour to meet you, Master Byers, and Achiyo-dono. How do you find Doma thus far?”
“Well, it looks nice,” Percival said non-committally. “We are getting by. We don’t want to make any trouble.”
A woman near Kaien-sama whispered to him, and he turned to Achiyo. “How old are you, Achiyo-dono?”
She bowed as deeply as she could. “I think I am sixteen, Kaien-sama.”
The woman did more whispering and withdrew. Kaien-sama nodded and turned back to Percival. “You say you are a mercenary. Would you be willing to work for me?”
“I can’t see that I could refuse such a noble offer,” Percival said. “Achiyo is training to work with me, as well, though she hasn’t seen a lot of action yet.”
“A fitting goal for a samurai’s daughter, and I will not ask anything of her that she is not willing to do,” Kaien-sama said. “Shall we discuss further in private?”
“All right,” Percival said, though she could tell he was not very happy about it.
But when she went to follow, the woman from before intercepted her with a swish of silks and a tinkle of dangling pearls. “Achiyo-dono, my name is Chima. Would you be so kind as to keep me company while the men are talking?”
Achiyo looked at Percival, who shrugged. There didn’t seem to be much choice, so she nodded and followed the woman, who led her to a cozy little room painted in warm colours and adorned with fresh flowers. There was a little kotatsu with a little tea set, and two young women already sitting there. The woman sat and gestured that Achiyo should sit with her. “This is Achiyo-dono. As we thought, she’s the daughter of a samurai.”
“Greetings, Achiyo-dono,” said one of the young women. “I’m Mitsu, and this is Tori-chan.” They poured tea for her.
“Hello,” she said, feeling horribly out of place among these elegant girls. How had they guessed she was a samurai’s daughter before they had even met her? “It’s… nice to meet you?”
“And to meet you,” Chima-dono said. “Now, Achiyo-dono, I imagine you have been travelling with your handsome mercenary for some time, yes?”
“I think seven – eight years when autumn comes,” Achiyo said, blushing that the woman would call Percival ‘handsome’. She wasn’t wrong, she supposed, he was good-looking in a rugged, older way. But she didn’t normally think about that. She tried the tea. It was far more delicate than anything she’d had before.
“Goodness, so long? How old were you when you began?” the older girl, Mitsu asked.
“I was eight,” she said.
“Dear me,” Chima-dono said. “So young to be traipsing about with a mercenary. And he’s teaching you to fight, too?”
Mitsu looked horrified; Tori looked intrigued. “Yes,” Achiyo said. “He has defended me against all kinds of threats, but I want to be able to help him.”
Chima-dono clicked her tongue. “But I suppose he hasn’t taught you anything about being a lady.”
Was that what they were after? “No.” She’d had to teach him what Hingan manners she knew, and he didn’t always use them. And that was just normal manners, not lady manners. Okaa-san had been a lady, but she hadn’t really started teaching her how also to be a lady.
“You should stay with us, while your guardian is off fighting for Kaien-sama,” said Chima-dono. “We shall teach you what you need to know.”
“You’ll be so pretty when you have proper clothes and your hair done up right!” Mitsu said. “We only have a few Raen ladies in the palace, you know.”
Achiyo looked at her, at all of them. “But I’m an orphan.” She was too shy to say the rest – that there was no point in teaching a girl with no money or connections how to be a lady. Even she knew that.
“You are an orphan of noble heritage, and surely destined for greater things than to be a common mercenary,” Chima-dono said. “Besides, it has been so long since we had a new girl around. Someone of your forthright manner would liven everything up, I’m sure.”
Was that an insult to Percival? He was an uncommon mercenary, a very uncommon one given how he had taken her on. Besides, what else was she going to do with her life? She couldn’t exactly go and be the samurai of Yamamatsu-jo. The rest of it was not really convincing. “Can I think about it? I want to talk to Percival.”
They seemed disappointed, but they hid it politely and agreed.
Back in the inn room where they were staying, Percival let out a long sigh and sat heavily on one of the sitting cushions on the floor. “Do you want to go first, or shall I?”
He probably couldn’t guess what they had said to her, but that was all right, it could wait. “You first.” She sat quietly next to him.
“I was wondering what in Azeyma’s name he’d need a foreign hired sword for, but it seems that someone of my talents and background would be well suited for watching the border of the Azim Steppe.” He made a gesture that told her that wasn’t the entire story, but he couldn’t tell her more.
Secrets for the king of Doma? And Percival had agreed? “What about the Garleans?”
He sighed again. “It’s true – they’re going to know about me. But with official work orders from Kaien himself, they won’t be able to arrest me for doing my job. Theoretically.”
“Theoretically?”
“They’ll keep a close eye on me, I’m sure,” he said, frowning. “I have be on a registry to work here, which I hate, but that’s how it is. Beyond that, there’s a resistance movement, even after fourteen years, and if someone like me was to do something suspicious, they’d assume I was helping them. And that would be lights out for me, obviously.”
“Are you sure you want to take his offer?” she said. “I will be afraid for you.”
“I feel it’s a better deal than I’d get otherwise,” he said, and patted her shoulder. “Hey. I didn’t go on this journey because I thought it would be easy or safe. But you sound like you have another plan for yourself.”
She fidgeted, thinking. “The woman offered to teach me to be a lady.”
He frowned. “Okay. Why?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think they gave me a straight answer.”
“What do you think?”
She looked at her hands. “I’m not sure yet. I’m not done training to become a knight.”
“But you were a samurai’s daughter before you were a knight. I certainly can’t teach you that.”
“No, but do I need it to be a knight?”
He looked away to the night-dark window. “No. But I think you should take it. When else would you get a chance like that?”
“Percival… I always had the impression you didn’t like nobles.” Why should he want her to act like one?
“It’s not that I… Well, look. Nobles are just as much people as anyone else, but they have power, so it affects a lot of people when they’re selfish pricks. I’ve seen a few like that and they make me so angry. And even the less prickish ones aren’t always taught to be sensible. I don’t think Kaien is a bad sort. If you became a noble, you would be pretty good. But you need more education than I ever gave you, than I ever could give you, and I… I think I’ve failed you on that account.”
“You taught me so many things…”
“Piecemeal, haphazardly, and not anything that would make you ready for adult life. I… didn’t realize – I forgot how old you were. I thought I still had time. I knew you were strong but I didn’t ever dare test that strength, not until you rightfully demanded it.” He inhaled restlessly. “I can make all kinds of excuses… When we first met, you were so… fragile. If nothing else, I wanted to know you would survive, that no one would exploit you.”
“I know,” she said. “You said as much to Oji-san. That’s why you didn’t give me to a farmer to raise, or a weaver, or a fisher. They all have honourable work, but it would be hard work, from the first moment, even if they did not see me as disposable. And merchants and nobles do not want a child not their own.”
“That’s not all of it,” he said, and buried his face in one hand. “You yourself said you were getting too old to be adopted. I wanted you to have a childhood where you didn’t have to worry about labour, or hunger, or fear, and yet those things were exactly what I gave you, because I couldn’t trust anyone we met to care about you the way I thought a child should be cared for even if I couldn’t do it myself.” She saw with a shock that a tear had run down his cheek, and he turned away to hide it, but she could still hear it in the roughness of his voice. “And the years went by as I dilly-dallied, and so I stole your childhood from you, and now you’re nearly a woman grown with nothing that should be yours because I- am too weak-” He used both hands to cover his face from her.
She was almost too shocked to move. They never had serious conversations about this. As far as she felt, she was still a child, her adult body notwithstanding. She crept forward and reached out to touch his shoulder. “Without you, I would have died or worse a thousand times over. The alternative was to grow up in an okiya, with no autonomy of body or mind. I would rather live difficult and free with you than comfortable and fearful there. You did not take my childhood from me. Those who killed my parents did.”
He sniffled loudly and reached out with one arm to pull her against him. “I’ve made so many mistakes. You may be in one piece, but your life could have been so much better if I’d tried harder. You should be glad to be rid of me.”
“No,” she said. “Even if I stay here, I don’t want you to leave me behind forever.” That was a fear she’d had often when they first met, that he would become too tired or annoyed to take care of her and cast her aside like everyone else had.
“I could never,” he said, half interrupting her.
“I guess you’ll be glad to be rid of me,” she went on, half-interrupting back. He would be free of her for the first time in seven years.
He squeezed her shoulders tightly. “Never. I may not be the guardian I should have been; I’m not your father, and you’re not my daughter, but you’ll always be- my girl.”
Her heart melted and she hugged him. “Yes.”
She decided to stay in Doma Castle. Once the two of them were calm enough to examine the situation with more cold-blooded logic, it made sense for her to jump at this opportunity. She’d learn how to behave in a manner befitting the station she had been born into – even if she never again attained that station – and probably a lot of other things besides; and Percival promised he would still work towards getting her equipment against the day that she might decide to join him as a mercenary. “Kaien’s going to pay me well, so it probably won’t be long. If you accidentally get married, and don’t want it anymore, I can just sell it, I suppose.”
“If that should happen, give it to me anyway, as a wedding gift,” she said. “Or sell it to me, so you are compensated properly for your hard work – let’s assume this hypothetical future husband is rich.” It was no more far-fetched to imagine him rich than to imagine him at all.
He chuckled. “In the meantime, you’ll finally have a pleasant life. And maybe I’ll get laid again without you around to be my first priority.”
She really didn’t want to think about that, and clutched her horns to block out further sound, and he laughed again.
Then he sobered. “In all seriousness, Achiyo, take what you can from this… but if it’s not what you want, if they don’t treat you right, if there’s some hidden catch, just tell me and I’ll get you out. Make sure they know that, too. I’ll arrange with the innkeep here that if I’m away and you need to leave the castle, you can stay here. Just in case.”
She nodded. The people in the castle were complete strangers to her. It would be foolish to trust them blindly. And she knew herself to be a trusting, forgiving person, uncertain of her own worth. She would remember what Percival thought she was worth, she would remember his pride and confidence, and use that to protect herself.
Starting out her training was terrifying and exciting. It was a bit frightening not to have Percival nearby, for one thing, she had never been far from him for more than a few days before, and to be among so many people who were absolute strangers too. And she knew so little of what they expected her to know, besides reading and writing and calculating, that she got the distinct impression they actually thought she was stupid.
Most of the women who were present at court did not live in the castle itself, but with their husbands in Monzen, and the younger women attended them as maids and servants. Those who did live in castle were the highest ministers and their families, and their attendants had their own tiny corner of the castle to call their own. Achiyo was officially taken in as Chima’s maid; Tori and Mitsu, who were the daughters of Doman samurai, were also technically Chima’s maids. Her duties were pretty light, and she found them easy to take care of – or at least no more difficult than anything she had done to help out Percival, even if completely different in scope.
But because she had to start from the beginning, she wasn’t allowed out of the women’s quarters for a fortnight while they taught her how to bow properly, how to walk properly, and the proper language she should use for speaking to people of different ranks, and what she was allowed to talk about in public. And the mechanical things had to be practiced to perfection, until it was automatic, just like combat training, but even more meticulous, and nearly as strenuous in its own way, in mind if not in body.
But she dug in and did her best, and there were things that were more interesting as well. All her old clothes and belongings were packed away into a box, and she was given silks to wear, snow-white undergarments to protect the kimono, shimmering robes of rosy pink and verdant emerald and cloudy blue, though pink was her favourite. And there was hair-care, which was far, far more elaborate than she’d ever had the resources to do before. Not simply washing, combing, and letting the wind dry her hair, but treatments with oils and serums, and complex styles, and jewelled ornaments to hold it in place – and more ornaments dangling from her horns, which was impractical and felt weird but was very pretty. And cosmetics, which she’d never had before, skin-care treatments, to keep her face young and smooth for as long as possible, and to enhance her luminous eyes in ways she never could have imagined.
“It’s a good thing we caught you young enough that your barbaric travelling didn’t utterly destroy your hair and skin,” Chima said. Achiyo was of the opinion that whatever else was going on, the women of the palace were enjoying dressing her up like a doll. They cooed over her flat, delicate figure and how well it draped in layers of kimono and furisode. And she didn’t hate it, either. She missed having simpler clothes, did not like the ‘proper’ way to walk, but it was nice to be pretty.
Maybe she was more than just pretty. The first time she joined the other women in the actual court, she attracted nearly as much attention as the first time – when she had been shabby – and it was much more approving attention. Although, even the approving attention bothered her a bit. She did not like how some of the men looked at her, especially some of the old ones.
There was more to being a lady than looking and speaking correctly, though, and she found to her dismay that she had to learn music and dancing as well. That was an uphill battle for her. Dancing, to be sure, she thought she could find a use for – she already knew something of balance and rhythm from her combat training, and this would be related, kind of. Learning how to control her body could only be useful. So although she began her first lessons terribly inept, she applied herself, and practised outside of lessons, until some of the other girls began to complain that she was showing them up. She didn’t stop, though. This wasn’t about them.
Music was more difficult. She did not have an intuition for it; she could not make flutes speak, and her voice when she sang was so soft and breathy that she might as well not have sung at all. They eventually decided for her that the koto would be the instrument she would learn, and she dutifully plunked away at it a bell every day, but it never came easily to her. Now the other girls seemed to take pleasure in showing off how much better they were than she was, though Chima reminded them all that they had been playing from a young age, and it wasn’t her fault that she could not match them after only a few sennights.
She missed Percival immediately and terribly, but happily for her, he visited Doma Castle every few moons, to see if Kaien-sama had work for him, and to check on her. Not all his tasks took moons to complete, but he was also going about and exploring the land and picking up other work. She knew he didn’t want to be beholden to one master.
The first visit, he saw her and his eyebrows went up. “Well, you’re looking fancy. Very nice.”
“Thank you,” she said, smiling and doing a slow spin to show off for him. “Have you been well?” She was not using all of her newly-learned speech mannerisms, but why should she? It was Percival. She had no wish to install a formal barrier between them where there had been none before. She practised it with everyone else at court anyway. It was a bit like being an actress, constantly, and it was tiring.
He told her, sort of, of the lands he had seen, the people he had met – Percival was not very descriptive with his words, but he assured her she would see them herself someday. “What about you? Tell me what you’ve been up to. Is there anywhere we can talk, just us?”
She led him to an alcove on one side of the hall, with Chima to ‘chaperone’… “Why does she need to be here?” Percival grumbled softly. “Do people think I’m going to be inappropriate to you?”
“Sorry,” she said with a smile, because it was a bit silly. “It’s indeed what is proper.”
He made himself comfortable in the chair and nabbed a sweetmeat from the dish sitting on the table. “So what are they teaching you besides how to never have privacy?”
“The first thing is to be graceful in all things, in word and deed,” she said, and he nodded.
“Sounds about right. I think you’re doing a good job.”
“Thank you. I have a long way to go.”
“You already sound more refined too.”
“I wasn’t trying to, not with you.”
She told him about the dancing, about the music, and saw his eyebrows raise again in amusement. She told him about the hair and skin treatments, and he asked where he’d be able to find such things and how much they’d be.
“Why?” she asked, confused. “Do you want to try them?”
He burst out laughing. “Hardly. But if you get used to them, you’re going to want to keep it up when you come back adventuring, aren’t you?”
She blushed. “I-I don’t know yet. I will find out.”
“I can help,” Chima said, gracefully inserting herself into the conversation. “I can tell you where to find such things – though perhaps they might be beyond the means of a mercenary?”
Percival shrugged. “Maybe I can’t afford the top stuff, or every single item you get to use here, but if it’s important to her, then I’m sure we can find a way.”
“Assuming, of course, that Achiyo-chan wishes to return to such a life at all…”
“Assuming,” Percival said easily. “But that’s up to her. So Achiyo, you like it here?”
“In some ways, yes,” she said. “I am learning about many things – though I make many mistakes.”
“Mistakes are how we learn,” he said.
She looked down. “Mistakes in manners are not so easily forgiven here as mistakes in sparring. Perfection is necessary.”
He frowned. “That’s a lot of pressure. Unfair pressure.”
“It is the pressure of court,” Chima said. “Achiyo-chan does not mix with the full court often, have no fear. But should she become accustomed to it, then no other society will challenge her poise.”
“Huh.” He looked at Achiyo. “As long as you’re okay. You don’t have to be perfect to be good. And if you’re only satisfied with perfect, you won’t appreciate the good anymore.”
She sat and thought about that for a while. “But it’s not about my feelings, is it? It’s about how I reflect on others. In sparring, we aim to practice perfectly so that when real combat happens and the situation is uncontrolled and unpredictable, we are still good enough to not get hurt. But if we are not good enough, then we will get hurt. Or even die. And that would mean those relying on us could also be injured or killed. You taught me that. If I do something shameful, it will not only cast shame upon me, but upon Chima-dono, and possibly further, and she will be less respected because of me. We can’t make real mistakes in combat, and we can’t in society, either.”
He leaned forward. “Achiyo… it’s not the same. You don’t have to be perfect to be worthy of respect, care, and compassion. Be yourself perfectly, even if it’s someone else’s imperfect. And that’s all that really matters.”
He’d cut directly through her overthinking, through the labyrinthine rules of court, and said simple, incontrovertible truth. She stared wide-eyed, forgetting all her new manners, and she thought Chima might have stared a little bit too. Was that how Percival had all his self-assurance?
Percival sat back with a sigh. “Combat is one thing. But a society that can’t forgive imperfections of manner in a sincere heart isn’t a society I think worth living in. If you show a lack of integrity, or compassion, something with your actions or your deliberate words that shows you have a defect of character, that’s something to be condemned. Not forgetting to make the ‘correct’ angle of bow to the next random person you meet.”
“I think that’s a different society than they have here,” she said. It sounded better, honestly. And yet she couldn’t help but want to please those around her by striving for the same perfection that they did. After all, she was here to learn the correct bows for everyone, wasn’t she? “Oh, but to be truly polite, we can’t show when something bothers us, either. It’s not forgiveness for these mistakes, exactly… or rather, they forgive without forgetting… and it doesn’t help me know when I have made a mistake… but it’s the graceful thing to do.”
“I guess that’s something,” he grumbled. “It all sounds tedious and you have my respect for putting up with it. I suppose my rough manner is horribly offensive here,” he said, and glanced at Chima. “I guess I should thank you for your forbearance.”
Chima smiled and hid her smile behind her fan. “Not at all. Your lack of refined manners is… intriguing.”
He went back for a second look, observing her properly for the first time. “Is it.” He stood and stretched a little. “Well, I aim to please, my lady. Achiyo, I’m going to head out. Are you all right to say farewell for now?”
“Yes,” she said, standing with him. “Thank you for coming to visit. I greatly appreciate it.”
He smiled. “Someone’s been practising. Come, see me out.”
They managed to leave Chima behind in the cloud of courtiers. “Who is that woman again?” he asked. “The one who’s training you, right?”
“Yes,” she said. “Chima-dono is the wife of Naotsune-sama, the minister of agriculture.” She added, a little mischievously: “She has told me that you are handsome.”
“Hm.” He seemed amused and annoyed at the same time. “Married, hm? We’re not playing that game.”
“Game?” Wait, had Chima actually been flirting with him? Why would she do that, when she was married?
“Don’t worry about it. Well, I’ll be back in another moon or so. Take care, all right?”
“All right. You as well.” A bell’s visit was not nearly long enough, but it was sufficient to strengthen her resolve.
Achiyo might not have interacted with the full court often, but she did attend on occasion. Gradually, she became aware of her ‘function’ in court society, along with many of the other younger girls – decorations, ornaments, there to give the male ministers something to look at and someone to talk to about unserious things. It was a marriage market, as far as those women were concerned.
It was not universally true; there were women who were politicians, as there were men who were there simply to be seen. And there were some women who were not officially politicians who were also playing politics, using their beauty and gentle arts to sway the opinions of the lords and ministers they spoke to. But none of that applied to Achiyo. Kaien-sama alone seemed above all of it, seemed as straightforward and pragmatic as any warrior, but he had to listen to his advisors. And everyone tried to be normal around the Garleans, but they were always there, two or three of them, watching, listening, in their black uniforms. Achiyo stayed away from them, and luckily for her, they ignored her as unimportant.
And gradually she became aware of admirers. There was one man in particular, probably in his mid-twenties, wearing brocade robes, who did nothing but stare at her for several days. It made her uncomfortable, and she had been a champion of staring before Chima began to teach her how to properly use her gaze to speak for her. Perhaps she should have skirted the rules and stared back, trying to make him uncomfortable in turn, but she was worried he would take it as encouragement.
Eventually he presented himself before her – Mitsu and Tori scattered, leaving her with nowhere to retreat – and bowed in the most cursory way. “Greetings, my lady. I am Kawanami no Hiromune, heir to the Kawanami clan. May I ask your name, o gentle flower from heaven?”
“I am Kensaki no Achiyo, daughter of Kensaki no Tamehiro,” she answered him, struggling to hide her utter disinterest while bowing at a much deeper angle. It wasn’t just that he’d been staring at her; he also had a feeling of arrogant blandness about him. She wasn’t planning to get married anyway, but definitely not to him.
But the second rule after “always be graceful” was “never say things directly”, which was really a subset of the first rule, so she had to somehow convince him to leave her alone without actually telling him that.
He gave her lavish compliments, and an expensive hairpin of kingfisher feathers which she could find no way to refuse, and then stuck around monopolizing her time until court adjourned. Every word he spoke was so self-assured as to his status, and yet not a single word he spoke was interesting enough to remain in her head. And he talked of himself a lot, his family, his estate, his income, and did not ask her a single question about herself beyond her parentage. On one hand, that was fine, if he was talking about himself, she could safely think about more interesting things while she waited for him to be done; on the other hand, it was a struggle to keep a graceful demeanour the whole time.
The other girls seemed excited for her when they returned to the women’s quarters. “Kawanami likes you! He’s super rich, you know,” Mitsu gloated.
“Yes, he mentioned it several times,” she said. “I don’t know why he would like me. I am not.”
“He’s a bit of a connoisseur of beauty,” Tori said. “It’s okay that you’re poor. He was chasing me all around a couple moons ago.” She giggled.
“And it does not bother you that he has turned his attention to me?” Achiyo asked. The more she heard about this man, the less she liked him, ‘connoisseur of beauty’ or no.
Tori giggled again. “It’s fine! I’m more in love with Daito-sama, anyway.”
Achiyo looked at the kingfisher hairpin. It was very pretty, the blue-green shimmering and glittering even under the weak candlelight. But she didn’t want it. She would much rather have her silk sakura. Ah! She knew what she would do with it. As soon as she was out of this place, she would sell it for travelling funds.
It was strange, upon reflection a little while later – her childhood seemed to fade in her memory, as if taking ship to Doma had closed a book on her past. She had been too busy to contemplate her past for a while, but Tori had asked about her true parents, out of genuine curiosity, and after seizing her etiquette-bolstered self-control to not weep over them, she found all her life in Hingashi hazy in her memory. Only Doma was still sharp and fresh.
One thing she was grateful for was that Chima seemed to take her seriously when she said she could and would leave if her teachers were overly severe with her. And she was glad that Percival had given her the agency; some of the girls, even those of local noble birth with living parents, were not so lucky. They were stuck in the women’s quarters until they were married, enduring harsh words and even physical punishments if they did not fulfill the expectations placed upon them. The politics of the households did seem difficult to navigate, and she tried to stay out of it. She could not stay out of it entirely, of course, but it certainly was good practice for staying calm and graceful in the face of intimidation and adversity. In fact, this was rapidly becoming one of her best skills, to not show any signs of emotion without any effort. Strange to think when she had been so emotional as a child. She was rather proud of it.
A new skill that she eventually took on was horse-riding. Percival and Chima both disapproved for very different reasons. “That thing has four legs,” Percival said, watching her trot on a lovely brown horse at the royal country estate in the summer.
“They are faster than my two legs,” she said. She had to wear hakama to ride properly, and that was the main reason Chima did not like it. She said palanquin-riding, or carriage-riding, were the only civilized modes of transport for a noblewoman. But Achiyo, in a fit of unusual forthrightness, had sought out the stablemaster at the summer estate before she could be told not to, and he had agreed to teach such an eager student regardless of her circumstances.
“This wouldn’t happen in a country with chocobos,” he muttered.
“Horse-birds,” she chirped, still enjoying the Doman translation of the word. “But the horse can do anything that a horse-bird can do.”
“Chocobos are better fighters, and they’re more nimble,” Percival said.
“How do you know they’re better fighters? You haven’t even ridden one.”
“I’ve got eyes,” he retorted. “Turn for me.”
She nudged the horse around, still at a trot.
“Too wide,” he said. “A chocobo could do it in half that arc.”
She huffed at him. “Well, maybe I’m still learning.”
“Maybe.” He uncrossed his arms. “I’m giving you a hard time. It’s good that you know how to ride anything.”
“It’s not like there are chocobos on this continent,” she said.
“Maybe I’m just jealous you get to ride something so exotic.”
“Shall I show you how to ride a horse?” she asked.
As she and the horse-master showed him how to ride a tall dappled horse, she caught sight of Chima lurking in the shadows near the edge of the field, watching intently with a dreamy smile.
Achiyo knew she had several admirers, but Kawanami was the most persistent and the one least likely to accept or understand rejection. He did not let up in pursuing her, and before too long there appeared a matchmaker, offering to bring Achiyo into Kawanami’s family. The deal was insultingly simple. Kawanami did not know much about her, having never asked, but he knew she was an orphan with no money, so he offered to give her a life of luxury and ease – except he wasn’t even asking for her to be his wife, but his concubine.
Achiyo flatly refused. Her desire to please the people around her extended a long way, further than most other people, it seemed, but this was well beyond the limit. She’d already escaped being bought for an okiya, and she wasn’t about to sign away her life to be an okiya for a single client – which was how it appeared to her. And when they didn’t appear to be listening to her, she said so out loud, breaking the rule of never saying things directly.
Everyone was scandalized. “It’s not like that at all, Achiyo-chan,” Chima tried to tell her. “Kawanami-sama may yet make you his wife. This is just the first step. And of course your children would still inherit, regardless.”
Achiyo was revelling in using her most lady-like behaviour to look coolly at her and retort: “Kawanami-sama is most generous with the things he has. But I am only interested in that which he does not have.” Was that an indirect riddle enough for them? If she absolutely had to get married, she wanted someone kind and open, someone who treated her as an equal, who was interested in her for her soul and not just her appearance. Surely that was a vague enough request of the kami. Kawanami just wanted to collect her like a doll.
Kawanami sputtered. “This is ridiculous! You’re just an orphan, homeless and without a gil to your name. How could you not want to share in my family’s wealth? Everyone else does! Believe me, if you were not beautiful, you wouldn’t have a chance either.”
“So I should become less beautiful, clearly,” Achiyo said. She glared and he flinched. “That’s simple enough.”
“Achiyo-chan! Don’t do anything you’ll regret,” Chima scolded her. She was right about that, at least – if Achiyo was as beautiful as they said, she would like to save that in case it pleased someone she did wish to marry. But the threat was satisfying.
“Kawanami-sama,” said the matchmaker soothingly. “Achiyo-dono was very rude, but you cannot be rude in turn, or else she will never accept you.”
“You must forgive her,” Chima said to them both. “She was raised by a Westerner, and though she has made great progress in learning proper behaviour, she still has these ways of thinking that we are… working on.” Achiyo wanted to scoff. “Achiyo-chan, this is what your parents would want for you. You would honour them well by accepting.”
Achiyo paused to think, but she did not believe it. She did not know what her parents would have wanted for her adult life, and the idea that someone who had never known them could say they knew with such certainty was… nonsensical to her.
The matchmaker took a minute to consider her options. “I think I see the problem. She has no clan to think of. The honour, the connections, the benefits of such a match will not spread to others. If her birth parents were here, they would undoubtedly accept and smooth the way for her.” In other words, she had no one to pressure her into it anyway. “And her Western guardian will certainly not understand the advantages, and perhaps even encourage her in her stubbornness. I understand they’re all very backwards over there. But if she was raised with Western thoughts, we can adapt. Kawanami-sama, you must court her in the Western way. I believe it is through spending time together that Western affections are kindled, is it not?”
“If I must,” Kawanami said. “The things I do for you, you strange woman.”
“You can save your time,” Achiyo said. Apparently subtlety wasn’t working. “I reject you. Nothing you can do will sway me.” No reasons – if she gave reasons, they would try to reason her into acting against her own inclination.
Kawanami grumbled, threw up his hands, and walked out. Really, she didn’t understand how he didn’t expect this from her.
Chima looked frustrated. “You are a very stubborn girl, Achiyo-chan. Don’t you see how good this is? One would think, after a life of stumbling around the wilderness, that you would enjoy living in luxury. Once you are no longer my maid, I will not be able to support you anymore.”
“Luxury is not the only important thing in life,” Achiyo objected. And she did not say it just because she fully intended to return to a life of stumbling around the wilderness – but elegantly, this time, and in armour. Chima’s half-threat held no fear for her. But also she had the growing sense of unease at court. The people there were afraid, afraid of the Garleans, afraid of war. Every once in a while, someone would say something foolish, and disappear before two suns had passed. They tried to hide it by dressing beautifully, and eating delicious foods, and listening to beautiful music, but no matter how much money they spent on pretending nothing was wrong, she could still sense it. Even the little drama she was unwillingly participating in was just a way for them to distract themselves from the fear.
“Perhaps it is not,” Chima said. “But it can make up for a multitude of ills.”
Achiyo stood. “I am not an ornament for Kawanami-sama to place in his halls for his pleasure. I will not accept him in any fashion.”
Chima sighed to the matchmaker as Achiyo also walked out. “Achiyo-chan… is young and idealistic. Let us go with your plan, my lady. If Doman courtship will not do, Western courtship might.”
Achiyo found her public time very annoying from that point on. Kawanami was forever giving her expensive gifts, sticking to her like glue in court, and seemed to think that ‘Western courtship’ meant writing and reading to her long poems extolling her beauty. Chima pressured her to wear the gifts, and Achiyo resisted. Kawanami was a fool, and would take any sign of encouragement at face value.
Not only that, but a lot of the other women at court were making snide remarks about her now for being so stubborn. Some of them told her she’d never get married. A lot of them thought she was a fool for not accepting riches, regardless of whom they came with. A couple of old dowagers wished ill upon her to her face, but at least Chima would defend her against those, saying she was a good girl in all other things. Mitsu thought she was crazy, Tori thought she was brave. She didn’t feel like she was either of those things.
When she wasn’t in lessons or doing her duties as a maid, she now avoided everyone else, sneaking over to the section of the castle that had been modernized for military purposes. She wasn’t being disobedient, just… not asking permission. Well… she was definitely skipping her practice times in the arts to do so… but it wasn’t like she was improving at the koto anyway. There was a large portion of the castle that might once have been for men-at-arms, stables for horses, armouries and training grounds in traditional Doman style, but they had been taken over by the Garleans, and now they housed soldiers in black armour, the stables had been converted to hold strange metal monsters, and the armouries and training grounds were filled with Westernized weapons and techniques.
She discovered a secluded spot on a roof of the inner palace, where she could just peer into one of the training grounds, and watched the soldiers train with their gunblades. The Garleans might have been the enemy, but watching them was better than listening to Kawanami talk about his family’s peach groves for the tenth time.
One day, while she was sitting there, enjoying the fresh spring breeze and the blue sky above, she heard someone calling her from behind. “Uh… my lady? Why are you there, that’s dangerous!”
She turned to see one of the Doman guards, leaning out of the window that she used to slip onto the roof. “Oh, I’m very sorry to worry you. I was just…”
“Oh, it’s you, Kensaki-dono,” he said, and grinned. “You’re the one making a fool out of that Kawanami-sama.”
“He is making a fool of himself without any help from me,” she said, smiling back. She vaguely remembered this guard from around the castle; he was pretty young, maybe only a couple years older than her, and he was kind of cute.
He looked back behind him secretively, then back at her. “Can I come sit with you, Kensaki-dono? If anyone asks, we can tell them you fell out the window and I was heroically saving you.”
She giggled. “Very well. What is your name?”
“I’m Yorihiro. Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too, Yorihiro-san.”
He was much better company than Kawanami; he actually wanted to hear about her life in Hingashi, and they talked for a bell about the differences between Hingan and Doman yokai before he jumped up, exclaiming about how he was going to be late for his patrol. “Would you be willing to chat again, Achiyo-dono?” he asked as he helped her back through the window.
“I would be glad to, Yorihiro-kun.”
Percival finally returned for a long-overdue visit, and even before he could ask Achiyo to go somewhere private to chat, Chima accosted him. “Percival-dono, Achiyo-chan respects you and looks up to you, wouldn’t you say?”
“I guess?” he said, looking confused. “Maybe? Why?”
“Would you kindly persuade her to accept Kawanami-sama’s courtship? She has been very uncooperative in this matter.”
“Chima-dono, you must truly be desperate if you are hoping to enlist Percival’s aid,” Achiyo could not help saying.
Percival still looked confused – and suspicious. “Huh? Courtship? Like marriage courtship?”
“Exactly,” Chima said. “It would be so beneficial to her, and to you as well. Think on it – she would be with the heir to the Kawanami clan, rich and comfortable and pampered, and commanding considerable power and influence of her own-”
Percival turned to Achiyo. “I take it you don’t like this guy.”
“I have no interest in him,” Achiyo said. “I have told him so several times, with most unconscionable rudeness.”
“Then what are you asking me for?” Percival asked Chima. “Achiyo’s old enough to make up her own mind – and if she wasn’t old enough, I damn well hope you wouldn’t be trying to marry her off.”
“She’s making a mistake,” Chima said, trying one last time.
“Then let her make it,” Percival said. “Achiyo, want to go for a walk? I feel like we’re always in here when I visit. Do you ever get to leave the castle?”
“On occasion,” Achiyo said. “My duties usually require me to stay with Chima-dono, however.”
Chima made an elegant gesture of exasperation. “You are excused for a bell, ungrateful girl.”
Achiyo bowed to her. “I am very grateful – for a bell to spend with my guardian.” Chima only turned away.
“Having trouble?” Percival asked as they crossed the bridge to Monzen. She had to take tiny little steps in her furisode, and her geta went clip clip clip next to Percival’s long-legged stride.
“A little,” she said. “I can handle it.”
“Great,” he said. “You do seem different. Tell me about this guy. Should I beat him up?”
“That is not necessary,” she said. “It would only get you in trouble. If it came to it, I think I could do that myself, even though I haven’t been able to practice since I came.” And that had been nearly two years ago.
“So, all money, no substance?”
“Exactly. He talks of himself all day and only wants me as an ornament to delight his eyes at all times. He doesn’t even actually want to marry me.”
“Huh? Then what’s this courtship for?”
“He made me an offer… to be his concubine.”
She learned several new Eorzean words in Percival’s ensuing outburst. “By the Twelve, if I run into that little peiste…”
“He’s not interesting enough to enact bodily harm upon,” she said. She had a personal theory that Chima had taken her in to set her as a target for Kawanami, to distract him from pursuing more ‘valuable’ girls. If that was true, it was working. But she didn’t know that for certain. “Anyway, it’s beginning to affect my studies. He is trying to monopolize my time. When the matchmaker did not change my mind, they suggested he court me ‘Western-style’, because you raised me for so long, and I don’t think he knows what that means. I don’t know what that means. What does that mean?”
He laughed. “It depends a little bit on class and race, but the basic… ‘courtship’ ritual in Eorzea is dating – the two of you would have dinner together, or go to a play or other activity, to have fun together, to learn about each other. And if you don’t like what you learn, you don’t get married.”
“I could not possibly enjoy myself in his company,” she grumbled. “A matchmaker is supposed to take into consideration each couple’s personality and interests, to make such… ‘dating’ unnecessary, but in this case they are ignoring all of that because he’s wealthy. And he’s already told me all about himself, and hasn’t asked about me at all. If it wasn’t for…” She trailed off.
“Go on?”
“Well.” She found herself blushing for no reason. “I made a new friend – not one of the girls.”
“One of the boys?” Percival joked. “I see.”
What did he see? “His name is Yorihiro-kun, and he has twenty summers, and his family lives in a village called Karahua. He is very knowledgeable about yokai, and he loves dogs, and he has a younger brother named Yukihiro, and he works as a guard here at Doma Castle.”
Percival sighed. “Well, that’s nice to hear after hearing about the last guy. But I’m on my guard now. I didn’t think about… I didn’t think people were going to start chasing you, just because you were here, and worse, not taking your answer.”
“I guess that doesn’t happen in Eorzea?”
He winced. “I’m not going to say it doesn’t happen ever, but it doesn’t happen often. Maybe because our traditions change faster – though saying that as a native of Gridania is a bit of a joke… Anyway, while we’re here, if you need a tall, armed and armoured man to tell someone to go bugger off, I am at your service.”
“My wish to go to Eorzea is becoming stronger,” she said, smiling.
“Can’t deny it seems more reasonable the longer I stay here,” he said, and he was looking towards the Moon Gates, where the Garlean force-fields controlled all traffic on the river. “But… while there are wondrous things to see there, and I would love to show them to you, there are here too. And I’m… not ready to go back yet.”
“I understand.”
Chima was distant that evening, and while Achiyo wasn’t going to ask, she was told anyway. Surprisingly, it was not about Kawanami for once. “Achiyo-chan, how old is your guardian?”
“I do not know,” Achiyo said. “He did not seem much different when he first took me in, nigh ten years ago.” Maybe there was more grey in his hair now, more creases around his eyes. And he seemed to have decided that cursing around her was fine now that she was an adult.
“Mid-thirties, you might say?”
“Perhaps.” She truly did not know.
Chima sighed. “Every time he comes around, I am reminded of how dashing he is. His quiet, steely demeanour, his easy swagger… I begin to long for my life to be as one of those romance novels where he might take me in his strong arms and-”
“My lady,” Achiyo said, trying not to scold, but she didn’t really want to be thinking about her guardian’s ‘quiet, steely demeanour’ or ‘strong arms’. “Your husband would surely be upset to hear you say so.”
Chima looked at her with a hint of anger, but then realized that Achiyo was sincere, and not threatening to blackmail her. “I married my husband for many good reasons, but passion was not one of them. Where then shall I find what I seek, outside of these escapist novels?”
“Percival does not read romance novels,” Achiyo told her a touch dryly. “He will not understand what you are looking for, and he has too much honour to accept advances from a married woman.” He’d already told her so. Not to mention, if he did accept Chima’s advances, it could even be a danger to his life if they were discovered together. She wondered if Chima cared about that at all. Or if that just made it appear more exciting to her.
“I gathered that,” Chima said crossly. “And I suppose you are not going to help explain it to him. As for you, I noticed you’ve been spending time talking to one of the guards. You really shouldn’t.”
“He is only a friend,” Achiyo said. “I do not have many friends.”
“You might have more if you spent more time in court – everyone likes you, you are very charming when you put your mind to it. Anyway, don’t talk to that boy. It would be bad for your future. Some folk may get the wrong idea, you understand. And if it did develop into something more, it would not lead you to a good life. You would be unhappy.”
Achiyo was silent.
Chima sighed again. “You may go, Achiyo. Sleep well.”
Achiyo bowed. “My lady.”
She was a little irritated, and rather uncomprehending why Chima would confide in her. Chima had chosen the marriage she wanted, and it was not for love. It seemed a bit unfair that she’d consider disrespecting her marriage to get love too. And in such a corny way – real life wasn’t a romance novel.
The only way she could think of it was that she herself had determined if she did get married, she would be in love with the person she married. And if that person happened to not be materially comfortable (she did not name Yorihiro to herself, but his face did come up in her mind), she would work to alleviate it. However. She would not look outside her marriage for it.
Chima was living in a dream within a dream – imagining a life of freedom where she did not have to worry about her husband, while using her husband’s wealth and influence to not worry about the Garleans. Maybe she hadn’t chosen her marriage, been forced into it the same way she tried to influence Achiyo. Maybe she should feel sorry for her instead.
Well, as long as Chima didn’t annoy Percival. Achiyo being annoyed by Kawanami was plenty enough annoyance to go around.
She certainly did not stop talking to Yorihiro, and eventually let on that Percival had started teaching her to fight Western-style. He seemed intrigued. “I’ve seen him when he comes to court, a couple times. He looks like such a warrior! All covered in metal, and different from the Imperials. Is it very different from Doman fighting?”
“He says it is,” Achiyo said. “He says that samurai find it difficult to predict what he will do next, though he has become experienced in fighting samurai.”
“And you’ve learned a bit from him? I’d love to see it.”
“It has been a long time since I was able to practice. I will not be very good.”
“Oh, come on,” he wheedled. “It’s so brave of you to learn something like that.”
Gradually, he won her over, suggesting they meet in the disused archery range on the Doman side of the castle, which was now basically used as a hobby range for the handful of nobles who fancied it as a sport. When those few weren’t there, no one went there; it would be safe.
So the next day they met late in the evening. She was wearing an old yukata and her riding hakama, because she certainly wasn’t going to be fighting in her silks. Most of the court was still partying, and the two of them were not going to be missed. Still… “Are you sure we’re allowed here?” Achiyo asked, looking around.
“Yeah, it’s fine, no one comes here at this time. You look so funny in hakama!”
She did prefer braies for fighting, but she wasn’t going to get those here. “They feel too large on me,” she said with a little giggle. “Even though they were made to fit me.”
“They look great – just funny,” Yorihiro said. “Let’s do some hand-to-hand. I’ll go easy on you, okay?”
“No,” she said. “Percival would say that is a disservice to us both. Do as you normally do, even if it is unfair.” Percival knew how to hold back enough to teach her, but Yorihiro wasn’t Percival.
“Okay, you asked for it.”
It had been a long time since she was able to train, and her make-shift self-imposed exercises cobbled together from running laps around the back corridors of the palace and doing push-ups and sit-ups in her room were no substitute for what Percival had been putting her through before that. At least Yorihiro hadn’t suggested doing anything with weapons. She hadn’t been able to so much as touch a sword in moons. So she wasn’t expecting to do very well, as she assumed a ready stance.
He also assumed… a careless pose, gesturing for her to come at him. “Don’t be scared. Try and hit me.”
She circled him a moment longer; was he still underestimating her, going easy on her even though he said he wouldn’t, or he thought this was some kind of flirting? If that was the case, she didn’t know how to fight in a flirty way. She just knew how to fight.
Yes, it seemed the answer was all three. He wasn’t using proper technique, and was trying for some wrestling moves – probably as a precursor to getting handsy. She did not want that; it would probably bring back bad memories. She was too fast for him, ducking, sliding, weaving around his grapples to throw jabs back at him. Maybe she should have stopped and made sure he was in the same fight that she was. But she didn’t think to do so.
She slipped past his guard and connected solidly with his gut, throwing him backwards to the ground. He lay there dazed for a minute, a series of emotions crossing his face – shock, confusion, anger, disbelief – before he climbed to his feet. “Heheh… uh, lucky shot. You’re not bad for a girl.”
She briefly considered her training and experiences with real combat, planned and unplanned, and wondered what his own experiences were. For surely he did have experience, defending his village, defending his younger brother, training at the castle. He was just underestimating her – still. She didn’t say anything, all her focus on what he was going to do next.
He came at her more suddenly, sudden enough to activate a panic response, and she grabbed his arm, spun, and put him on the ground again over her shoulder.
That had probably been too strong, and she jumped back. “Sorry! Sorry, I was startled. Did I hurt you?”
“I’m fine,” he growled, climbing to his feet again. “You stupid… How dare you-!? You just got lucky!” He looked angry, and like he wanted to fight her for real. She shrank away. She hadn’t meant to… Why was he so angry? He stormed towards her, winding up to strike her, but this didn’t feel like sparring anymore-
“No, she didn’t,” said a voice from the shadows of the hall, and a messy-haired boy stepped out towards them. “You are careless, and a sore loser, Yorihiro.”
Yorihiro stopped as if he had been turned to stone. “H-Hien-sama?”
Achiyo gasped. “Hien-sama!?” The prince was rarely in the castle; this was the first time she had seen him. She quickly bowed her deepest bow.
“Please, don’t do that,” Prince Hien said awkwardly. “I get enough of that all day. Yorihiro, I’m very disappointed in your behaviour. Your sparring partner does better than you expect, and your first reaction is to tear them down? Get out. You’ll be guarding kitchens from now on.”
Yorihiro scrambled to get away, and Achiyo was alone with Prince Hien. She bowed again – not quite at a right angle as she had the first time, but still very low. “Thank you, Hien-sama. I… I don’t know what happened.”
“You’re really good,” Prince Hien said. “You’re Kensaki no Achiyo-dono, right? The one who was with the Eorzean who Father hires now and then?”
“Yes, that is so,” she said. “He trained me a little.”
“I hope you get the chance to keep going,” he said, smiling. “You move very well. I don’t suppose you want to spar with me?”
“Oh, no, I could not,” she said. She couldn’t stop bowing, it felt like, and Prince Hien didn’t seem to like it, but what else was she supposed to do? “But thank you. The praise means a lot to me.”
“Good. Um. I guess I’ll be going now.”
But she bowed one more time and scurried away, lest it look like she was being arrogant in front of Prince Hien. She also needed to get away to understand everything that had just happened, and why she suddenly felt like crying.
Yorihiro never spoke to her again, and when she saw him on the castle grounds he never made eye contact, blatantly ignoring her. It hurt her deeply, though she did not show it in public. But that her friend, whom she had admired and who she thought admired her back, would break their friendship because of such a thing…
Mitsu and Tori saw that she was upset, and pieced it together quickly enough over tea privately. “He was embarrassed that you defeated him,” Mitsu said. “Of course. He’s a guard, he’s supposed to be good at fighting! To be defeated by even a girl… he was humiliated.”
“What a dummy,” Tori said, munching on sweet manjuu. “He forgot who your adopted father is, obviously.”
“He is not my father,” Achio said for the ten-hundredth time. “But yes, I don’t know what he wanted me to do.”
“He expected you to fight like me or Mitsu,” Tori said, giggling a little. “All, you know, ‘kyaa!’ and stuff. Play-fighting, you know?” She waved her fist weakly. “After all, one can have an interest in something without being good at it.”
“I think it’s for the best,” Mitsu said. “You shouldn’t have been associating with him anyway. But take it as a lesson for the future – you can’t show up a man at anything, especially not what he’s best at. Don’t do that again.”
“You sound like Chima-dono,” Achiyo muttered into her tea.
Mitsu huffed. “Men who are humiliated tend to take their revenge as quickly as possible, and they often have the power to do so. It’s for your own sake that I say such a thing.”
“Ah, but women who are humiliated will find a way to get their revenge in the end,” Tori said, and winked. “We may not have the power, but we have plenty of time to think long-term.”
“I do not want revenge on Yorihiro-kun,” Achiyo said wistfully. “I only wish… well, it doesn’t matter now.”
It did matter, inside where her heart was breaking yet again, and she cried alone in bed that night and for several nights after.
She entered court with her gracefully smiling mask firmly in place, ready to face Kawanami or any other unwanted suitors. It was easy to have poise when she didn’t really care about the outcome. And it was a good thing, too, because Kawanami came right over as soon as he came in. “O my lotus of the dawn, how do you fare today?”
“I am well,” she said. Infinite patience. Serenity. Forbearance. He cannot affect you.
“Have you considered my proposal in a more favourable light?” he asked, as he always did, like a child asking if they had reached their destination yet.
“Not by sun, moon, or stars, Kawanami-sama. Surely you must tire of asking.”
“Surely you must tire of rejecting me,” he said. “Why do you resist your own happiness?”
“I am as tireless as a stream,” she said, smiling insincerely. She was water-aspected, wasn’t she? “You can build no dam that will ever contain me.”
“I probably could,” he said thoughtfully, then his face darkened. “And if I can’t, surely the Garleans will. It’s not safe out there, my little flower. Your only true hope of survival lies with me.”
“And yet I am unswayed.” She kept smiling, because that always seemed to irritate him when he was trying to be threatening.
“Treasure your smiles now, then, for without the protection of clan and kin, all flowers will wither under the Garleans.”
They’d had some variation of this conversation every week for moons. But today it would end differently. A shadow loomed up behind Kawanami. “Is this person bothering you, Achiyo?”
“Percival!” she cried, with real joy. “It is good to see you.”
“Good to see you too. Who’s this?”
“I am Kawanami no Hiromune, the heir of the Kawanami clan-”
“Oh, that guy,” Percival said. “Well, go away. I want to talk to Achiyo.”
“You would dare come between this pearl of the sea and her future lord and master?”
“Yes, I would,” Percival said, his face hardening. Kawanami was a couple ilms taller than Achiyo, but Percival was significantly taller than him. “I’m an adventurer, and you’re not my boss.”
Kawanami puffed up angrily for a minute, turning very red, but Percival stood there, immovable, stern-faced, and Kawanami shut his mouth and turned away.
“Thank you,” Achiyo said quietly. “When I am dressed in armour likewise, perhaps men will take me seriously.”
“I take you seriously,” he objected.
She smiled at him. “Yes. But most of them here do not. I would like to leave. I think I am done being objectified- I mean, educated.”
He laughed. “I don’t think I’ve heard you use sarcasm before. But what about your boyfriend?”
“He is not, and never was, my boyfriend,” she said. “There was a… misunderstanding.”
“Oh?”
She hesitated. “I would like to tell you later.” She was afraid that if she began, she would not stop. It was still too close to her heart.
“Then go get your stuff, and let’s head out.”
“This moment? I really should finish my duties to Chima-dono…”
“Do you want to? Does she really need you? It would be nice to be on the road before sundown.”
She didn’t really want to. She wanted to be free, that instant, but she was dutiful…
“She has two other maids, doesn’t she? What’s she going to do, track you down in the middle of Yanxia and scold you? You’re an adventurer too. You’re free. Tell her you’re going if you like, but she has no right to hold you against your will.”
She decided. She was probably supposed to have a greater obligation to someone who had been incredibly generous to her when she had no way to repay it, but they had never told her what they expected of her, and if they told her now it was too late. “Then I shall go and change my clothes. I will meet you at the bridge to Monzen.” Perhaps she could find a way to repay her after leaving.
Even though she didn’t tell her yet, Chima guessed what she was doing, somehow, and burst in upon her packing – luckily, she had already changed. “Achiyo-chan! You can’t be leaving!?”
“I have decided,” she said calmly. “Percival is here, and I shall go with him. I am very grateful for everything you have done for me, Chima-dono,” and she bowed very low, “and I return everything you gave to me – and these gifts besides. I have no need for them, and they will look better on you.”
“B-but… Achiyo-chan… They were for you. I can’t just…”
“If they are mine, then they are mine to do with as I will,” Achiyo said. “These are for Mitsu-sempai, and these are for Tori-chan. But I cannot fulfil your desire by accepting Kawanami-sama, or any other man at this court, and I have nothing else to thank you with. Please – take them.”
“Achiyo-chan…” Chima actually had tears in her eyes, and Achiyo wondered – maybe a little unfairly – if they might be real. “I truly can’t stop you, can I? Oh, certainly, I could have orders given to keep you in the castle, but you’re a clever, resourceful girl, and that wouldn’t keep you for long. And I can’t persuade you, I know.” She threw her arms around Achiyo. “I will miss you, whatever you may think of me. You are a good girl, no matter what they say, and I hope you’re not miserable out there in the wilderness. At least you will have your brave, strong Eorzean to watch over you.”
“Yes, he will,” Achiyo assured her, accepting the hug. “Thank you for understanding.”
“I only… I will worry. With bad food, and icky clothes, and monsters everywhere…”
“I have done it before,” Achiyo assured her with a smile. “Now I will do it again with grace and elegance. Please have no fear for me.”
Chima let go of her, only to pounce on the pile of neatly folded kimono that Achiyo was not bringing. “You must keep one of these, then. My last gift to you. You like the pink one, yes? I shall have it wrapped in linens and waterproofing, and then you’ll have something nice to wear when you appear somewhere proper.”
“That is very generous of you, Chima-dono,” Achiyo said. “I will miss you and Mitsu and Tori as well. I wish you all the best of fortune.”