Before he could let his intended words pass out from his lips, a man stepped forward, looming above him on top of the walls. The man did not look to be dressed for battle, neither physically, nor ntally, for he stood there in his kimono with a peaceful smile resting on his lips, as though he had just climbed out of a soothing hot spring.
"Welco to Honkaido, Matsudaira Motoyasu." Gengyo announced, speaking in a comparatively quieter tone, so that the surrounding people had to strain their hearing to catch what he was saying, but Matsudaira caught him loud and clear.
"Who might you be?" The man responded, mimicking how loud he was.
"My na is Miura Tadakata. Commander of the Red Feather forces, ex-soldier of Imagawa, servant of a murdered master, sibling of a murdered brother, and survivor of the betrayal of Okehazama." He spoke louder this ti, so that his words reached everyone in the vicinity, even the Matsudaira. He did not shout. Nor was his voice full of hate as he uttered such sorrow-filled words. It was peaceful, and reasonable. His felt Akiko’s fingers clasp around his as he spoke.
People for miles around drifted into silence. This was not a man who desired power. This was not a man who chose this path because of fa and riches. This was a man on a quest for his own source of justice in a cold and heartless world.
The villagers looked at one another, finally understanding. No one had known what had occurred at Okehazama. They only knew that Imagawa had suffered a defeat. No one cared to speak about a naless samurai by the na of Niwa Nakatane, and the n he commanded.
But there were n on that field who saw and rembered. n who had witnessed their end right in front of them, as they charged into a plu of smoke. n that had gazed at the remains of the crazed carnage that they had bestowed.
These were n of the most frightening sort. These were n that should be their comrades. n they should have on their side. n they should be kneeling down in front of, and pronouncing their respect to. What they had endured and overco was nothing short of a journey through hell.
"...You served the Niwa?"
"I did, and I continue to."
Matsudaira looked towards the ground from his horse, feeling a shaful sorrow scratch at the inside of his organs.
"He did not deserve to die the way that he did. For what it’s worth, I am truly sorry for what happened on that day. From what I heard afterwards, it was due to the efforts of the Niwa n that we were not imdiately overrun by Oda’s charge." He spoke honestly, true sadness tainting his voice. And then, it hardened once more. "However. I cannot act in accordance with my sympathy. My loyalty lies with Imagawa. As you serve your master, I must serve mine." His head flickered upwards, as he t eyes with Gengyo, unflinching.
"I do not bla you Matsudaira. However, as it would stain your honour to be lenient with , it would stain mine to surrender. I do not wish to spill your blood, yet that is the path I must take. I will not take pleasure in killing you." He stated simply, yet kindly. Both n understood.
"...You are an odd man, Miura Tadakata. I will not take pleasure in killing you either. I will rember your na and the na of your master even after you pass." He whirled his horse around and began to trot backwards towards his n. An odd feeling hung in the air. None of the bloodl.u.s.t of a usual battlefield could be found, instead, what they felt was reluctance. Fate had decreed what must be, and with their hands tied, two similar n found themselves at each other’s throats.
Perhaps on that day, Matsudaira could have abandoned his position of servitude to Imagawa, but as much as he wanted to see the man fall, he had his own principals to maintain. It was not only the result that mattered, it was the process one took in between. Integrity is like v.i.r.g.i.nity, once it is gone, it does not co back.
As Matsudaira did not surrender, nor did Gengyo give the order for him to be shot in the back as he ran away. Even with such impossible odds, it would not be worth sacrificing his honour.
He turned to look toward his beautiful wife who stood by his side, and noted the tears in her eyes as she looked back. Both of them understood the significance of the day, and as he brought her in close with a hug, he resolved that he would not allow their loss to happen.
As they parted from each other’s touch, Gengyo assud the face of a commander and addressed his people.
"n of the Red Feather, hear ! We have worked hard for this day. We have done all that we can. There is not a single reason we should not co out on top. Trust in , and trust in each other. The gods will our victory!"
"HAH!"
The n slamd their heels into the floor, assuming a position of complete attention, as they raised their weapons high, indicating their readiness for battle.
They heard similar cries from across the field as Matsudaira rallied his own n. Their own shouts dwarfed their own, from the sheer mass of n, resonating their voices in one great overwhelming wave of aggression.
The army began to shift in accordance with Matsudaira’s orders, and the musket infantry rushed to the front, preparing themselves to move forward, and confront the walls.
"SOLDIERS! STAND BY!" Gengyo grouped all his n to the front of the wall. He had multiple observers in and outside of their great fortress to warn them should Matsudaira attempt a more subtle stealth tactic.
"HAH!" Their rifles were loaded and ready. The cannons had far greater range, but should the enemy be foolish enough to co closer, then their firearms would be just as keen to punch a few holes in them.
"BY THE FRONT, QUICKKKKKKK MARCH!" They heard one of Matsudaira’s subordinates call out, and swing down with his arm, and the dispatchnt of two thousand matchlock wielding n began marching forward, with Matsudaira trotting keenly behind them, ready to react should anything untoward happen.
A steady rhythmic march across the unscarred plains. When they were a hundred tres out of the matchlock’s optimal range, Matsudaira prepared to give the order for them to pause their advance, but Gengyo was busy setting into play a hand of his own.
Five cannons pre-loaded with Takeshi’s cl.u.s.ter shot, each angled in order to ensure maximum range. "FIRE!" He barked, knowing the distance to be perfect. Takeshi had schooled him thoroughly on their capabilities.
The cloud of deadly tallic balls launched swiftly into the air, and imdiately, Matsudaira knew them to be bad news. "RETREAT! DOUBLETI!" He ordered, and the n began to sprint backwards, as fast as they were able. But with the accelerative effect of gravity, and the power of the gunpowder ignition, they were not quite fast enough.
The cloud of deadly balls crashed to the floor like a shower of teors, catching the back rank of n, killing many instantly, and wounding several others as it caused pieces of shrapnel to fly in all kinds of directions.
The retreating n continued back, until Matsudaira knew for certain that they were completely out of range, and he turned back to observe the chaos that such a weapon had caused.
There was a line of complete destruction where they had once been standing, leaving the earth battered and bruised, and a good amount of n dead or wounded.
He looked out towards the unard commander of Honkaido stoically, pausing in thought. "Miura Tadakata... Quite the weapon you’ve kept up your sleeve."
Within the first testing act of the siege, he had co to an understanding. This was not a battle that would be won or fought utilising conventional tactics. To treat the enemy as inferior, and wield numbers as his weapon would only be to ensure that his n were sent to the grave.
He brought his hand toward his chin, as he lost himself to obsessive thought. A tougher nut to crack would be hard to find. But one thing was for certain: he could not fight them on this front. The cannons were too powerful.
"PREPARE TO MOVE! WE WILL ASSAULT THE EASTWARDS WALL."
It was a sha to give up the attack on the gate, which was an obvious weak point, but the cost it would take to secure it was far too much. Against those cannons, they were not even be able to utter a response. Their weapons were ineffectual at such a range.
The huge army began to whirl around and march towards the east with practised orderliness, dragging their baggage train along behind them.
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