A Time Traveller's Guide To Feudal Japan

The hors.e.m.e.n barely managed to reign themselves in, lest they be engulfed by the flame before them. The fire had no doubt surprised him, but he did not remain stationary for long, and quickly lead his men left, searching for the point where the wall ended, ready to demolish whatever force lay in his way.

The sounds of the explosion drew the attention of the men in camp, and the wall of fire rendered them rather panicked. Many men ran about camp, stumbling, looking for their armour, as they cried out maniacally.

"The enemy is here! They’ve set fire to the forest!"

The attention of the commanders would be caught quickly, but Gengyo could not remain stationary as they went about organising the troops. The forest was vast, and it was highly likely that some of the other encampments had not heard the noises.

Oda was right in judging that the fire did not extend the whole length of the forest – that would have been impossible. But still, Isabella performed her role admirably. It had taken a good deal of preparation, but she had chosen to believe what the young man had promised her. After all, he carried out the first part of their deal as promised – leaving the jar of opium exactly where he had said he would.

With a horse from the stable, she had ridden. Within days she arrived inside the land Owari, and had set about her task with haste.

The first few days she simply spent observing – identifying any men of note. And then, she selected her target: an officer under Nobunaga’s command, but one that was prone to drinking far more than he could tolerate reasonably.

And then, on that very same night, she had made her way into his tent, and lay there on his bed as he stumbled in drunk. He had rubbed his eyes, wondering whether he was dreaming, as she lay there, n.a.k.e.d, her curvaceousness fully admirable. She wore an innocent look on her face, and blushed, as though she were a maiden.

Taken in by her timidness, he had let his guard down. He was a person who was prone to the seeking of pleasure, and with such a beauty before him and his mind a drunken mess, he did not ask too many questions, assuming it was a gift from one of his fellow officers.

He had undressed hurriedly, and rushed into bed, his hands reaching out to touch her. But she skillfully guided them away, and put a finger to his lips. It was then that she revealed the brown powder, as she emptied it seductively upon her tongue.

He watched her, entranced, and as she leaned in to kiss him, he returned it passionately. Before he knew what had happened, all the powder had coated the inside of his mouth.

She – as she used one arm to cover her n.i.p.p.l.es – reached down, offering him a glass of wine. The most beautiful woman offering him his favourite drink of all? He was not likely to refuse. He took the glass from her, those eyes not leaving her body for a second, and he emptied the cup greedily, swallowing the opium in the process.

It did not take long before his mind was overwhelmed by the effect of the powder – especially in such a dangerously large quantity – and from then on, he effectively became her property. She lead him on just enough so that he would not grow angry, and offered him more opium as he requested it. But not once did she have to give herself up to him.

His addiction toward the substance was fast, and his addiction for her was almost immediate. She stayed hidden in his tent throughout the day, and as he came home on a night, she welcomed him warmly, as though they had been married for years.

Not wanting to displease her, he had told her almost everything that she had asked, and was rewarded with more opium. And if he ever felt hesitance in offering her some of the more sensitive information - that he had to swear secrecy over - such as when they planned to attack the Imagawa camp, she would guide his eyes towards hers and ask.

"Do you not love me?"

With a face so sad that it could break even a statues heart. And with that, he would always relent. It was pointless upsetting her over something so trivial. She was his lover – a playful kitten, and a bundle of innocence. She merely wished to know how his day had gone, and he had insulted her with distrust.

"Ah, forgive me sweetling... I grow tired from the day... I forget myself."

And like that she had captured his heart, taking from him all that she required. Oil, whenever she had asked for it. He asked no questions, even if an entire jug full disappeared in just one evening, when she claimed it was just to help the fire start because the wood had grown wet.

Gunpowder, too. She demanded vast amounts of that. So much so that he had to struggle to get it. But she claimed it was an important ingredient in making the opium that he loved so much, and had to be burned in large quantities to make such quality powder.

But what did it matter to him? He had all that she needed within his grasp. It was his honour to reward her, as she rewarded him. It was a beautiful relationship, he felt, and they were clearly destined to be together for a long time.

Whenever the day was long, she would provide him with a feast for his eyes, and take all his stresses away with the powdery opium that he grown to love almost as much as her.

And then, one morning, as he came home, she was gone. Her, amongst a few other things. His seal, and his horse, and his carriage. They had all disappeared on the same day that the love of his life had.

He searched endlessly for her, until the early morning, only to come home, his heart torn to pieces. Upon his pillow, he saw a single bowl – one that he had completely ignored earlier – and in it, he recognized a familiar powder. With shaking hands he had consumed more of the precious powder than she had ever given to him, and been transported into a land of bliss, before he promptly breathed his last, and died.

With his horses and with his carriage, she had loaded up all the gunpowder and oil she had extorted from him. And, covered in a cloak as she was, no one called out to her. The seal was merely an extra reassurance in case things took a turn for the worse. But on the road to the temple, as they were, the sight of carriages moving in and out of the encampment was not uncommon.

She had set up all that she needed to within a day, and had waited, away from prying eyes, as the forces of Imagawa started to enter the forest. She did all this for a mere promise. A promise given to her by a man that she did not know. But it was the only hope she had, and so she had grasped the lifeline had thrown to her with both hands and did all that was asked of her.

Oddly, she did not feel any bitterness toward her task. Quite the contrary – she found herself enjoying it. It had been years since she had moved about so freely within the outside world, and because she did so with a clear purpose in mind, she was able to appreciate it to the fullest.

Even as she tormented that pathetic man who could not see past her beautiful appearance, she did not feel displeasure. Quite the contrary, she enjoyed playing with him, and wrapping his pitiful existence around her finger.

The only time she began to feel frustration was when she had to wait. She counted off the days upon her fingers, having remembered what the officer had told her. That, and one more piece of information – one given to her by Gengyo – was all she had available. Gengyo had told her that the attack would be held in the afternoon. That was all he himself knew. There was no exact date.

And when the destined day had come, as noon came around, the heavens had opened, and all the pent up rain had poured down. She had taken cover under the trees and watched anxiously. Had that man who predicted that it would be noon... was he wrong? She did not dare to light the line of oil yet. The fire would be unable to spread under the force of the rain.

Instead, she had been forced to wait, stressed to her limits. And as the rain finally died down, she had returned back to the now-watery oil path, and the now rather sodden crates of gunpowder, and to them, she had held a torch, almost half-heartedly, not believing that they would light.

But she had underestimated the combustibility of the black liquid, and even yelped in surprise as it roared quickly into a vicious flame, and that flame soon spread all down the path that she had prepared. There were loud gunpowder explosions along the way, causing her to flinch.

She watched the chaos with a degree of triumph, wondering whether it had been on time. But as she felt the drumming of hooves upon the hard earth, she knew that her timing had been just right, and she recalled his final order.

’...When that is complete, head as far away from the battlefield as possible and...’

She did not need to be told twice. The bedroom was more her domain than the battlefield.

"I have performed my duty, young man. If this was all a trick, then I will take great pleasure in making the rest of your life difficult."

She spoke to the wind, as she mounted the horse and rode away, leaving the chaos of the smoke and fire to the men.

As Oda Nobunaga galloped down the wall of flame, he only just missed the sight of her fleeing figure. He rounded it with haste, sparing a glance backwards to see whether his men had kept up. They had. But the infantry was lagging behind.

Further east he saw a camp. One that was not as busy with activity as the one that he had just left behind. With a predatory smile, he set their path toward it.

’Even if a traitor attempts to thwart my plans – it shall not be that easy.’

He said to himself. Such a perfectly timed wall of fire positioned exactly where they intended to attack? That was information only privy to some of his closest men. It was undoubtedly the act of treachery.

He stormed toward the camp, leading the charge with his sword drawn. His eyes watered from all the smoke that had stung them, but his vision remained clear.

A drunken man danced with an arm around his friend.

"Toooo theeee goddsss weeee giveee thanksssss... forrrr annn easssyyy victorryyy... let’s dance..."

They sang. He felt a slight vibration beneath his feet, and turned back in time to see Oda’s sharp blade creeping toward his neck.

SLURP

And like that first blood was drawn. The ill-prepared men screamed out loudly in dismay as they were cut down by the sudden force that descended upon them. Though their screams and shouts were loud, no commander emerged to their aid – assuming it was merely the noise of men heartily celebrating, as they had been all throughout the day.

The Oda forces partook in the buffet of blood, not spending too long on each group of men, they tore swiftly through the camp, cutting throat after throat, and hacking men to pieces.

//Author’s Note

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