Slowly and reverently, Doru Solofi held up a mirror and tilted it in the sun. A colossal image of the Hegemon on his trusty steed, Réfiroa, appeared against the canvas backdrop. The rearing horse foamed at the mouth while the rider brandished Na-aroénna and Goremaw, his double-pupiled eyes staring into the face of every rebel, sending shivers down their spines.
“Companions of Tunoa,” intoned Noda Mi solemnly. “More than nineteen years ago, the Hegemon composed this poem to express his determination to rid Dara of tyranny. Tragically, his illustrious career was cut short by the despicable Kuni Garu, a lowly bandit who betrayed the Hegemon, a man he once called brother, in order to steal the throne of Dara.”
He paused and surveyed the rebels: Within a few short months, they had coalesced into a formidable force. Suspecting his once-loyal nobles of ambition, Kuni Garu had finally showed his hand and forced Théca Kimo to rebel. Inspired by the examples of Théca Kimo, Noda Mi, and Doru Solofi, others who were unhappy with Imperial rule had pledged support of various kinds. Hereditary nobles in Haan offered treasure, idle and landless veterans offered their experience, and even men of learning who had failed to place in the Imperial examinations came with advice.
Now that they were awash in funds, Mi and Solofi equipped all the rebels with gilded armor and even better weapons from Arulugi—Théca was now quite eager to restore trade, given the Imperial embargo of his realm—as well as formal regalia for themselves as befitting their station as Tiro kings (“There’s a time to appear as men of the people to gain their faith,” said Noda Mi, “as well as a time to appear to be above them to inspire awe”).
It was really too bad that they had to make do with their existing supply of magic mirrors to inspire the rebels in their cause. Noda often regretted not kidnapping the family of mirror makers when they were still alive.
Of course, with the new money, the ranks of the rebels also swelled with the inevitable inrush of faithless bandits and desperadoes interested only in making a fortune, who posed a threat to discipline. On the whole, however, the Tunoa rebels appeared to be a formidable force.
“But the Hegemon had made a prophecy,” Noda Mi shouted. “He said that the double nine would be a special day. Two years ago, during the ninth month of the ninth year of the Reign of Four Placid Seas, the Year of the Wolf, the goddesses Kana and Rapa handed us these spiritual mirrors…”
Doru Solofi had to keep himself from laughing as he listened to Noda’s bombast. He and Noda had hardly thought to endow the date of their discovery of the mirrors with such significance until much later, of course, but he supposed that if he squinted really hard, what Noda Mi was saying wasn’t exactly a lie. The prostitute from whom Noda had stolen the money purse with the first magic mirror was indeed dark-haired, and the girl he had been with that night had been a blonde. They certainly had been billed by the indigo house as of “goddess” quality. Anyway, as Noda Mi always said, “The grace of kings lies in graceful lies,” which he claimed to be a palindrome when written out in Ano logograms.
“…This is the Year of the Cruben, a time when greatness rises and ambition is rewarded. We shall make the prophecy come true and march into Pan to avenge the Hegemon!”
The rebels clanged their golden spears against their golden shields, and shouted as one. The noise drove the birds and beasts out of the woods for miles all around.
“How did things get this way? How?” Phyro, who had always been close to “Uncle Rin,” now screamed at the spymaster.
Rin winced. How he wished he had never listened to the empress. At first, he had been pleased with the growth of the rebellion, thinking of the extra funds he’d be able to request to fight such a sizable insurgency. But the news from Arulugi made him realize that he was no longer in control, as he had thought.
The rebels of Tunoa had surrounded Zyndu Castle. Phyro and Rin weren’t in immediate danger, as the castle, even after it had been turned into a shrine, still retained its ancient, thick walls. Even the rebels seemed to have been surprised by their own success and had not come prepared with heavy siege machinery, only flimsy ladders. Well provisioned, the five hundred defenders under Prince Phyro’s command should be able to hold out for a while. Still, gazing down upon the golden-armored host, Phyro felt his stomach tighten.
“I didn’t realize how much they had turned the population against us,” protested Rin. “In the past, Imperial administrators were able to gather a lot of useful information from the villagers….”
Phyro’s glare made Rin think better of bringing up how the policy of outlawing all private veneration of the Hegemon had likely played a role in souring the population against them.
“But these mirrors… they’ve changed things. Now, practically every person in Tunoa, from a child barely able to walk to old women with all their teeth fallen out, really believes that the Hegemon has returned and is manifesting through these mirrors. Even those who aren’t fighting with the rebels secretly give them shelter and aid—we lost the patrol airships because the cooks at the airfield set fire to them! Our garrisons have lost every encounter against the rebels during the last two months.”
“But you were telling me everything was going according to plan!”
“It was… sort of.”
“Have you sent for aid?”
“Three waves of pigeons have already been dispatched.”
Phyro said nothing, but he now deeply regretted not asking for aid earlier. He had wanted to show his father that he was no longer a child and able to take care of a few superstitious bandits in these far-flung isles. With the rebellion of Duke Kimo raging on Arulugi, the last thing the emperor needed was this further distraction.
He hoped that once aid arrived from the Big Island, he would be able to redeem himself.
The rebels camped beneath the walls of Zyndu Castle for three days and three nights as their numbers continued to swell. By now, almost eight thousand men laid siege to the keep. But the rebels didn’t go into the forest to cut down trees and construct catapults or arrow towers. They mostly sat and listened to speeches, chanted, and prayed.
Phyro and Rin watched them, puzzled but also slightly relieved.
Then, on the morning of the fourth day, the rebels attacked.
It was a most disorganized assault. The rebels simply rushed up, pushed the rickety ladders against the walls, and started to climb, holding up only flimsy wicker shields. Mi and Solofi and a few of their personal guards held up magical mirrors and projected images of the Hegemon onto the castle walls to inspire the rebels.
Phyro watched the brazen but chaotic scene in astonishment. The attackers were completely unprotected, and the defenders on the ramparts, ready with boiling pots of oil and night soil–infused water, as well as rocks, heavy beams of wood, and thousands of arrows, ought to make short work of them. This was a mistake even the rawest of military commanders would not make.
“This is why Noda Mi and Doru Solofi crumbled before Marshal Mazoti during the Chrysanthemum-Dandelion War,” Phyro muttered. “You can dress a sheep in wolf’s clothing, but it’s still a sheep.” He gave the order for the defenders to begin the slaughter.
But few of his soldiers moved.
“What are they waiting for?” Phyro shouted, panic creeping into his voice.
Rin Coda rushed away and returned a few moments later, his face ashen.
“Some of our men, especially the locals, believe that the rebels have the Hegemon’s protection. They think that arrows cannot pierce the rebels’ armor, and spears and swords cannot harm the rebels’ limbs. They believe that the rebels have been endowed with the spirit of the berserkers of Mata Zyndu and anyone who stands against them will be cursed.”