The Way of The Sword

The forest around the Sovereign Lands was a mix of green and gold, sunlight peeking through the leaves to dance on the ground.

Atenzi walked alone, his steps quiet on the mossy floor. He'd left his crown back at the palace, enjoying a moment of peace.

As he walked, Atenzi thought about everything that had happened. He'd gone from a simple thinker to the ruler of humanity's last safe place, from a man of peace to... what? A conqueror? A messiah? He wasn't sure he liked what he saw in the mirror these days.

Suddenly, he saw something move.

In a small clearing ahead stood a man who looked like he'd stepped out of a legend. He was average height, skinny but strong-looking. He wore simple, worn clothes but moved like a dancer and a master swordsman.

He had two swords at his hip—both well-used but perfectly cared for.

But it was the man's face that really caught Atenzi's attention.

It was weathered by time and many battles, but still looked calm. His dark, sharp eyes seemed to look right through Atenzi, judging him in an instant.

Atenzi's breath caught as he realized who it was. "Impossible," he whispered.

The man raised an eyebrow, looking amused. "Is it?" he asked, his voice sounding a bit different. "I find that very little is truly impossible, young ruler."

Atenzi stepped forward, then stopped and bowed deeply. "Miyamoto Musashi-sensei," he said, sounding awed. "It's such an honor to meet you."

Musashi bowed back, but not as deeply—like a teacher to a student, not an equal. "The honor is mine, Atenzi of the Sovereign Lands. I've heard about you."

As Atenzi straightened up, he had a thousand questions. What came out was maybe the least dignified: "How are you here?"

Musashi chuckled warmly. "That's a good question, though I'm not sure I can answer it. I was... somewhere else. A place of rest, maybe. And then I was here, called by powers I don't understand." His eyes twinkled mischievously. "Though I think you might know something about that, oh 'Messiah'."

Atenzi felt his face get hot. "I... that title wasn't my idea," he said, sounding a bit defensive. 

"Few who really deserve such titles choose them," Musashi replied, his tone neutral but his gaze sharp. "It's our actions that define us, not the names others give us."

Atenzi nodded, feeling like a scolded schoolboy. Then, gathering his courage, he went on. "Sensei, I... I've read your work. 'The Book of Five Rings'. It was... life-changing."

Musashi's eyebrows went up slightly. "Oh? And what did you learn from it, young ruler?"

Atenzi's eyes lit up with excitement. "The idea of the 'Way'—that mastering the sword isn't just about physical skill, but about understanding yourself and the world. The idea that battle strategy can be used in all parts of life." He paused, then added more quietly, "And the importance of being flexible, of using whatever tools you have to win."

Musashi nodded slowly, looking thoughtful. "You've understood the surface, at least. But tell me, how have you used these ideas? I hear whispers of a big win against a powerful enemy."

Atenzi's face darkened a bit. "The vampire queen, Báthory. Yes, we beat her. Used mirrors to turn sunlight into a weapon." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It was necessary, but..."

"But it troubles you," Musashi finished. "Why?"

"Because," Atenzi said slowly, choosing his words carefully, "it was a turning point. Before, I wanted peace. Believed in it completely. But now..." He waved his hand, pointing to the forest, the distant city, the world beyond. "Now I'm not sure peace is enough. Or even possible."

Musashi was quiet for a long moment, looking into the distance. When he spoke, his voice was soft but intense. "The Way of the Sword and the Way of Peace aren't as different as many think. Both need discipline, understanding, and above all, knowing clearly what you're trying to do." He looked hard at Atenzi. "What are you trying to do, Atenzi of the Sovereign Lands?"

Atenzi opened his mouth to answer, then closed it, frowning. "I... I'm not sure anymore," he admitted. "To protect my people, definitely. To take back humanity's place in this world. But beyond that..." He trailed off, sounding frustrated.

Musashi nodded, like this was the answer he expected. "Then maybe it's time to find out." In one smooth motion, he drew his sword, the blade catching the sunlight with a flash. "Would you like to have a friendly match with an old swordsman?"

Atenzi blinked, surprised by the sudden challenge. "I... I'm not sure I'm good enough to—"

Musashi cut him off with a wave of his hand. "You find out if you're good enough by doing, not by thinking about doing. Besides," he added with a sly smile, "I'm curious to see what tricks the 'Fake Messiah' has up his sleeve."

Despite himself, Atenzi felt a grin spreading across his face. The idea was crazy—him, fighting one of the greatest swordsmen in history? And yet... the challenge called to something deep inside him, a part of himself he was only starting to understand.

"Okay, Sensei," he said, bowing slightly. "I accept your challenge. Though I warn you, my sword skills are... unusual."

Musashi's eyes gleamed with approval. "Good. Unusual is interesting. Now, get a weapon."

Atenzi looked around, realizing he had no weapon. For a moment, he felt panicky. Then, remembering Musashi's teachings, he forced himself to calm down. Use whatever tools are around, he reminded himself.

His eyes fell on a fallen branch, about as long as a sword and pretty straight. Without hesitating, he picked it up, testing how heavy it was and how it balanced.

Musashi raised an eyebrow. "A bold choice. Let's see if it works well for you."

They faced each other in the clearing, Musashi's sword gleaming in the patchy sunlight, Atenzi's makeshift wooden sword looking silly in comparison. Yet Musashi didn't look like he was making fun, only very interested and a bit excited.

"Begin," Musashi said softly, and the world seemed to hold its breath.

For a heartbeat, neither moved. Then, with a speed that didn't match his age, Musashi attacked. His blade was a blur of silver, slicing through the air towards Atenzi's neck.

Atenzi reacted purely on instinct, bringing his branch up in a clumsy block. The impact shook his arms, nearly making him drop his makeshift weapon. But he held on, spinning away from Musashi's next strike.

"Good reflexes," Musashi commented, his tone casual as if they were chatting about the weather rather than fighting. "But you're too tense. Relax your grip—let the sword become part of your arm."

Atenzi nodded, forcing his fingers to loosen a bit on the branch. He circled carefully, looking for an opening. Musashi seemed to leave himself open, but Atenzi knew better than to trust what he saw.

Deciding to test the waters, Atenzi lunged forward with a straight thrust. Musashi deflected it easily, but nodded approvingly. "Better. You're thinking, not just reacting. But don't let your mind completely take over your instincts."

They continued like this for several minutes, Musashi attacking and defending in turns, offering advice and criticism with each exchange. Atenzi felt himself getting better with each passing moment, his movements becoming smoother, more purposeful. But he was still hopelessly outmatched.

Musashi moved like water, each action flowing smoothly into the next. His blade seemed to be everywhere at once, and more than once Atenzi felt the flat of the sword tap him lightly, a reminder of a killing blow avoided only because Musashi held back.

As the fight wore on, Atenzi felt frustration building. He was learning, yes, but he was also losing. And losing had never sat well with him.

In that moment of distraction, Musashi struck. His sword flashed out, aiming for Atenzi's heart. Time seemed to slow as Atenzi realized he couldn't block or dodge in time.

Then, without thinking, he felt power well up inside him. "Stop," he said, and the word carried the unmistakable power of Lashon Kesef.

Musashi's blade stopped an inch from Atenzi's chest. The swordmaster's eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed in concentration as he visibly fought against the command.

For a moment, they stood frozen like a statue. Then, with visible effort, Musashi took a step back, lowering his sword. "Fascinating," he said, his voice slightly strained. "I've felt many kinds of power in my time, but never anything quite like that."

Atenzi let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "I... I'm sorry," he stammered. "I didn't mean to—"

Musashi held up a hand, cutting him off. "No need to apologize. In a real battle, you use every weapon you have. And that, young ruler, is quite a weapon indeed."

They walked to the edge of the clearing, both sitting on a fallen log to catch their breath. Musashi put away his sword smoothly, while Atenzi simply let his branch fall to the forest floor.

"So," Musashi said after a moment of friendly silence. "Tell me about this power of yours. This... Lashon Kesef, I believe it's called?"

Atenzi nodded, still feeling a bit ashamed of using it during their fight. "It means 'Silver Tongue' in Hebrew—a language from our original world. It lets me... make others do things, I guess. To make my words carry the weight of absolute authority."

Musashi's eyes gleamed with interest. "A powerful ability. And a dangerous one, I imagine."

"Yes," Atenzi agreed, his voice quiet. "It's how I rose to power here, how I united the people against Báthory. But sometimes I wonder..." He trailed off, looking into the distance.

"You wonder if you're truly leading, or just forcing people," Musashi finished for him.

Atenzi looked at the swordmaster in surprise. "Yes, exactly. How did you know?"

Musashi smiled, a hint of sadness in his eyes. "Because it's the doubt that bothers all great leaders. The fear that their power, whatever it comes from, has corrupted them. That they no longer serve their people, but instead force their people to serve them."

They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of Musashi's words hanging in the air between them. Finally, Atenzi spoke.

"How do you avoid it? The corruption, I mean."

Musashi thought carefully before answering. "By never forgetting that power is a tool, not a goal in itself. By always questioning your reasons, your actions, your goals. And," he added with a slight smile, "by surrounding yourself with people who aren't afraid to challenge you. To remind you of your humanity when the weight of leadership threatens to crush it."

Atenzi nodded slowly, turning the advice over in his mind. "Thank you, Sensei. Your wisdom is as great as the stories say."

Musashi chuckled. "Stories have a way of making things bigger than they are. I'm just a man who has lived long and seen a lot. Speaking of which..." His expression grew serious. "I sense that big changes are coming to this world. Your win over Báthory was just the first move in a much bigger game."

Atenzi sat up straighter, giving Musashi his full attention. "What do you mean? What's coming?"

Before Musashi could answer, they heard the sound of running footsteps. A moment later, a servant burst into the clearing, out of breath and wide-eyed with urgency.

"My lord Atenzi!" the servant gasped. "You're needed at the palace right away. We've got word—Genghis Khan's army is on the move. They're marching towards Báthory's realm!"

Atenzi and Musashi exchanged a look, the swordmaster's earlier words echoing ominously in the sudden silence. The game, it seemed, was about to enter a new and deadlier phase.