A Time Traveller's Guide To Feudal Japan

As he wandered down the stairs, he could already hear the movement of some of his men, as they called out groggily to one another, apparently in quite the bad shape. He glanced behind him to make sure that the servant wasn’t still following, and to his relief, the man had heeded his instructions, and done what he was told.

It was burdensome to have a man so eager to please. He did not blame him too heavily though. No doubt he’ll have suffered quite the bit at Imagawa’s hand, and it would take him a while to accept that Gengyo did not seek the same sort of dominance over every person around him.

There was so much going in these castle walls that held no utility, other than pleasure to the Daimyo. The many women he had bathed himself in – what would they do now? It seemed they would be needing less and less servants, because he did not expect much from them.

Though, he supposed, having extra hands available when he wished to pursue a project might be useful. To give them something to work at, in providing something genuinely useful, without having to give up their souls in the process. He wondered whether they would be inclined to accept such tasks, or whether, given the choice, they would simply leave. Either way, it would be fine, he supposed. If they were to leave, then they could simply recruit new servants that were not as want to punish themselves.

With the celebrations concluded, he could not spare too much time inside this castle, so he hoped that these internal matters might be resolved to a state of functionality soon enough.

As he descended those final few stairs, he was amused to see not a single man standing. They were quite definitely awake, because they spoke to one another – albeit in something approaching a whisper because of their murderous headaches

"How are we feeling?" His voice swept across the room, only slightly higher than the rest, causing them to flinch.

"Morning boss... Do you think you can tell me whether my head is open?" One of the soldier’s greeted him, his face contorted in a grimace as he tried to deal with the throbbing pain.

"No, not quite yet. I think you’ll be doing fine."

"Ah, thank you."

"How about the rest of you? Are you ready to march?" He asked, his voice innocent. They stared back at him in horror, as though he were some kind of demon that had just crawled its way up through the tunnels of hell. "Joking. You can relax today. But I would go easy on the drink – we’ll have to begin moving tomorrow. Now... Has anyone seen Matsudaira?"

He spread his gaze across the room, searching for a sign of him, or a man that might know his whereabouts. Their eyes pointed to a single point, where a man sat, eyes closed and mouth open, lying back against a wooden pillar, a bottle in each hand.

Gengyo could barely contain his chuckle, seeing him like that. He’d finally learned to loosen up a little, and would likely feel better for it. Well, not quite at the moment. Currently – as soon as he awoke – he would probably feel like death reincarnated. But after that, he would feel brilliant. Maybe.

He put his hand on his shoulder, to shake him a little, but the man did not stir at all. His snoring only grew louder, and he collapsed to his side, landing on the tatami with barely a flinch. "Oh." By now, even Gengyo was impressed, as nearly the whole army watched their general completely dead to the world.

One of the bottles in his hand began to tilt, ever so slowly, threatening to spill out all over the floor. Gengyo quickly snatched out at it before a drop managed to escape, regretting undoing all of the servants’ hard work. He sighed, holding it in his hand. He took a whiff, and flinched for the power of the stench. He recognised it, and knew he too had certainly been drinking it, but it smelled like pure ethanol.

And still, Matsudaira lay there, unmoving, in the soundest of sleeps, his nostrils narrowing and widening with each breath. Seeing that motion, and with the bottle in his hand, Gengyo grinned to himself, coming up with a devilish idea.

He held his head just off from the ground, and directed his nose towards the nozzle of the bottle, getting quite close indeed so that he would be able to get a full waft of the foul-smelling liquid. He could see his nose begin to twitch more rapidly when its function changed from breathing to smelling. Alarm bells went off somewhere inside, and his eyes flickered opened, and he jumped back, gasping for breath.

Gengyo moved the wine bottle just in time so that it was not swiped by the sleeping man’s awakening, and he stood there with a cruel smile on his face. "Good afternoon, Matsudaira." He greeted him.

He had awoken to the soldiers around him chuckling lightly as they beheld what he happened, and he blinked his eyes sleepily, trying to find his bearings. "What’s..? Miura?"

"The very same. Sorry for waking you, but it is getting rather late in the day, and we still have business to attend to."

"Where are we..?" He awoke, looking around him, not remembering a single thing. All he knew was that he had been involved in the most wonderful of dreams.

"Shigeto castle."

"Shigeto castle..? It wasn’t a dream then?"

"I’m afraid not. Hence why we must begin movement. Come, get to your feet." He instructed, helping the man up. "Let us go for a walk, and we’ll right your thinking."

"Aye... I think that would be best." He held his head, immediately regretting standing up. He had never been a big drinker, but this was by far and away the most alcohol his had ever consumed. It was a huge shock to his system.

They stepped over and around the many men that lay on the floor, exchanging greetings here and there, and they approached the entrance of the castle. The sun shone fiercely bright, and they could not help but shield their eyes.

Once they grew used to it, however, they found its warmth to be ever so pleasant, and its light illuminated all the beautiful gardens of the inner wall of Shigeto. It was quite the place to be able to walk. The realization that all this belonged to him felt ridiculous.

"This castle has never looked so pleasant." Matsudaira breathed, taken aback by his beauty. With a different reason for being here, came different emotions, and a new perspective on the features around him.

"It’s not bad, is it? The day is getting late though, Matsudaira. Will you still be fine to ride back to your clan?"

"Even if it was the dead of night, I would still be able to take the road back, worry not. I would not let an army of a thousand stop me from delivering this news."

"Even still half drunk, as you are?" Gengyo asked with a smile.

"Even then!" He proclaimed, not denying that he was indeed still rather drunk.

"Good man. A week, you said, didn’t you? For Takeda? Then we will meet on the border a week hence."

Matsudaira nodded, growing serious. "And shall I take my men, and visit the villages and cities in my half of the province, and inform them of your victory, and call more men to our cause."

"Indeed. And I will send forces to collect them from the other half. I will also get a man to deliver a message to Oda, and we can only pray that it arrives before battle."

"I hope you are skilled with words. It will take quite the letter to catch his attention, and get him to show at all." Matsudaira warned.

"I feel like I might be able to do at least that – capture his attention. But whether or not he bites, we’ll have to see. We will not be relying on him showing, in any case. He can merely be an added boon, like finding a man’s coin in the street – you do not expect it, but it is nice nonetheless."

"Very good. I would have you meet with the elders of my clan, if you will? Meeting you should clear up any worries that they might have."

"I’d be happy to."

"Thank you, Miura. For everything – truly. I will prepare myself to leave immediately, and then when we next meet will be just before battle. If the gods are good, we will survive it, and Mikawa will be allowed the opportunity to recover – under the rule of a good man."

"Hah, you do not have to thank me, Matsudaira. You have gained all you have because you deserved it. If not by my hand, then it would have been by someone else’s."

"I don’t think its possible that another man like you exists. Nevertheless, I thank you again, and I bid you goodbye!"

"See you in a week, Matsudaira."

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