Private Tales New Beginnings: Rasoul

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer

Katakura Ishi

First Blade of Seluca
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The Sand Gate was much the same as when she had left. Riding in just before dawn, the First Blade's return was met with silence. The men on duty seemed surprised to see her and her warriors. Disappointed, even. Seluca was healing, slowly but surely, thanks in no small part to the efforts of the foreign warriors. Of course, not everyone saw it that way.

'Lady Katakura,' Captain Shabin, commander of the forces garrisoned at the Sand Gate, came to meet her. 'You're back!'

'So I am,'
the First Blade replied, reining in her horse so as to avoid trampling the poor sot. 'Did you miss me?' Smiling down at him, the First Blade slid from her saddle to stand before the Captain as he struggled to formulate a response. Taller than her by mere inches, the Captain was a handsome man, though, he pretended otherwise. Black-haired, brown-eyed, with thickly-muscled shoulders, Shabin was a fighter, not a leader. The men he "commanded" were an ill-disciplined, poorly-motivated lot. Ishi suspected that many of them had joined the Guard after the Tyrant had been dealt with.

Which probably explained why they hated her. Envy, or something so close as to make little difference.

Shabin hated her, too, though for entirely different reasons. 'I... of course, My Lady. No doubt His Lordship will be pleased to see you returned to us, and so soon, I might add.' The Captain's eyes narrowed as he watched the rest of Ishi's hunting party come through the gate behind her. 'If you don't mind my asking, what bit of business took you away from the city in the first place?' Ishi saw him run the figures in his mind. 'So many of you, that is.'

And there it is, thought Ishi, washing away the road's dust with some water from her skin. Us and them, them and us. Why did it have to be such? Did they not serve the same Lord, the same peoples?

Apparently not.

Stoppering her waterskin, Ishi brushed past the Guard-Captain, made for the stables. Stable hands, roused by the commotion happening in the yard, rushed to take their horses. Some of her warriors had already started to drift off towards the city, seeking warm beds or perhaps a stiff drink or two. Ishi would have settled for either. But first the palace.

'I do,' she replied belatedly. 'Perhaps I will tell you over a cup or two. Later. For now, I must see the Sultan. I assume he has not retired to the countryside in my absence?'

'You assume correctly. Last I heard, His Lordship was still sequestered up at the palace. You may find him there, though a wise man might wait until a more... let us say, proper, hour to pay him a visit.' Shabin shrugged, as if it made no difference to him. Ishi suspected it didn't. 'Your call.'

So it is, Ishi mused, waving him farewell.

Rasoul Ibn Shahin
 
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