Red the Sage's Roots
Great trees grew from the hillside like an army encamped: sturdy, protected and dangerous. Maples stood as sentinel and rampart alike, the split-trunked, shorter trees near the bottom of the hill providing cover for the taller, single-trunked trees further in. Even in the middle of Descending Fire, in the waning days of summer, the maple's five-pointed, finger-like leaves were mostly a bold red; these only served to mask the camp's other soldiers, the thin bamboo that grew in clumps between the stations of maple. Choshu Ishi moved towards the forest with the incautious haste of one who had not long tarried beyond the veil of the city or the battlefields of men. He rushed headlong into the army of nature.
Theirs was an impressive, if veiled, show of force. Animal spirits in fangs of five paced him, barely visible, from the brush; bow-armed dryads served as gunchei, directing those spirits carefully from the cover of tree trunks; wood spiders chittered their reconnaissance in the branches above. The army was as wild and patterned as ever a forest was, a seeming chaos with implicit order, and Ishi slowed his pace to wonder at it, and for lack of a trail.
The terrestrial exalt did not know where to find the object of his search; he guessed the heart of the forest, but the phrase had no more meaning for him than the words of sorcery. He simply marched on, through the underbrush, letting his enameled armor protect him from the grasping brambles and over-stiff thorns. He marched on, and he hoped.
Only when day gave way to moonless night was his hope answered. He had lost sight of the forest's army as the sun waned, except for the occasional gleam of a predatory eye, but now he saw a faint light ahead. He walked for it and though he had long lost any sense of expectation for what the night might bring, the sight before him still took him by surprise. He was in a forest glade lit by foxfire burning in the nearby trees. An open, wooden pavilion grew like a tree from the earth in the center. In the pavilion sat a beautiful, pale woman in green scholar's robes. Ishi would have thought she was a dryad, if not for the maple leaves which crowned her hair and her imperious grace. "Lady," he said, "are you the Red Root Sage?"
The lady smiled at him and gestured for him to approach. She said, "I am."
Ishi stepped across the glade and up into the pavilion. A low table, grown into the structure, sat before the Sage and on it were a small wooden pot and two tea bowls. "I am Choshu Ishi, and I would be a hero of the Marukan. I have heard that my lord and your father, Storm of Amber, watered you with strategy and fed you a diet of tactics as you grew."
The exalt paused for breath and the Sage's green eyes flashed. She gestured to a wooden direlance that rested on a bench nearby. "That spear was Storm of Amber's gift to me. With it, I can send you back to my forest's edge, to begin your wanderings over again. Storm of Amber is no father of mine and you'd do well to remember it."
"Lady, I am sorry." Ishi bowed low to the Wood Queen before him. "I had thought that you would honor the man who raised you as your... Never mind. I see you have no love for him, but I come not for his sake, only for my own, and under my own banner. If you will not deign to treat with my lord's dignitaries, then I humbly beg you to treat with this one unworthy, independent petitioner."
"Pretty words don't suit you, Choshu Ishi. Speak plainly and I think you'll be better liked, and understood."
The exalt laughed. "Sorry. The forest's been so confusing for me, and I thought... Never mind. May I?" He sunk into a chair opposite the Sage.
The Red Root Sage smiled. "What brought you here, Ishi?"
"Heroism. I want to be a hero, but Chumyo Nekuto thinks I have to direct armies to do it. He complains because I leave men to walk behind me, but where is the bravery in waving men forward with your fan? Nekuto calls it the difference between a hero and a duelist." Ishi shrugged uncomfortably. "They say you're a great war sage; I hoped you could tell me what he meant."
"The blossom is what people remember, but it's only a small part of the tree. Without the tree, no blossom; without the blossom, no tree."
The exalt shook his head, smiling. "Now it's my turn to ask you to speak plainly."
The Sage leaned against the low pavilion wall. "People will never love you for putting yourself above them; soldiers will never cheer you if they can't understand the danger you face on their behalf. Lead them forward, keep them organized, so that when you fight their foes they'll have wits enough to see the work you do."
Ishi frowned. "That's a cynical attitude. I'm sorry to say it, but you've a vain view of heroism."
"Heroism is vanity, Ishi. Why do you do it if not for praise? If not to have your name remembered? Do you truly love the Marukan, as your lord does? Do you love the soldiers who fight for you?"
"I'll bleed with them." The exalt leaned forward and his armor clanked as it settled around his shoulders. "I'll bleed for them."
"But will you let them bleed for you? Can you lead your men into the fray, direct them in formation against the enemy lines, so that you can fight a foe who could crush their mortal selves with one Essence-powered stroke while they do their part and keep the rank and file from dragging you down with their numbers?
"This is the stuff of heroism, Ishi. Their shields blocking sword-strokes aimed for you, your blade driving down those who would do them harm and stories of your deeds shared later, with laughs and warm sake."
Ishi pictured the battle she described. He thought back, to the war games and the way Storm of Amber's unit had moved about the field as one. He thought of the tales he had read of Lookshy. And he knew that she was right.
He stood. "Thank you, lady. You're right, and you've given me a lot to think about. If I can ever repay you..."
The Sage stood as well, and smiled. "Dedicate your next battle to me and I'll consider it honor enough. Also, please tell your Shai Mei that if she ever misses home too much, we have a small reminder of it here for her."
"I will. Now please excuse me, for I've a long way to go before I'm gone from your forest."
"I can send you to the forest's edge, Ishi." The Sage picked up her wooden spear. "Or have you forgotten?"
Ishi smiled. "I wasn't sure the technique could be used in peace as well as in anger."
The Wood Queen laughed and stepped down from the pavilion, Ishi following. "In truth, I owe Storm a debt. I am stronger than either of my predecessors, and wiser, and it is thanks to his ministrations. He may well be like my father.
"But what father ever got by without a child who treated him with scorn, even though her heart was filled with love?" The two shared a laugh.
Then, the Sage turned Ishi around and where a moment ago there was a pavilion, there was now a bower complete with leafy blanket, perfect for a night's sleep. "Rest in my glade tonight, Ishi, and tomorrow I'll send you on your way."
