Exiles of Mossflower: Prologue
#1 of Exiles of Mossflower
Prologue
In the third year of our eternal exile from the Musteline Republic, during the month of the Otter, Lady Shukko, long may her line thrive, led her army to one of the key victories in her first campaign. The navies of Terramort were utterly crushed, paving the way for the foundation of our new home on the ruins of the House of Tratton. The priestesses declared that the fourth year of our exile would become the First Year of Shukko.
Lady Shukko's first and last edict as daimyou of Terramort was that the city and ships of the searats be put to the torch. A new city, a city sacred to Itazou, was commanded to be built over the ashes of the old. Forty years of hard work later, Shukko's new city and castle were complete. Kokeshuto, the city that Shukko built, was the new, true home for nearly three thousand of Itazou's Children. Seicho Castle, and the tower upon which it was built, dominated the city. While the castle was built for Lady Shukko, the wolverine never lived within its walls. Indeed, she only ever entered the complex a single time after its completion, to abdicate in favour of her eldest daughter, Mayume.
Shukko chose to live out her years anonymously, refusing any and all requests for interviews or invitations to social functions. Her isolation was broken only once, five years before her death, for her words to be recorded. She had granted permission for a young historian to visit her, so that the full and honest truth of her adventures and campaigns would not be lost to time.
[From Reflections on Our Lives in Mossflower by Kiyone Odai Rumiko (raccoon) 53rd year of Mayume]
The single room hut belonging to Shukko the wolverine was quite plain in appearance. There were no frescoes to add beauty to the plain white of the plastered adobe walls. The only furnishings were a small table built from unfinished red cedar with four attending chairs in the center of the room, and a futon against the wall opposite of the door. Nothing in this place would give the slightest hint that the occupant was once the daimyou who led some five hundred soldiers and civilians into a new life far from home. Least of all the wolverine herself, who saw no need to adorn her body with gold and jewels, preferring to dress in simple gray robes.
Shukko usually ate and slept alone, but on this day, she had a visitor for her evening meal. A young fisher barely in adulthood sat across from Shukko as the wolverine ate her stew. The fisher flipped through the pile of papers in front of her, trying to organize not only her notes but her thoughts as well. The prospect of being the first beast in more than twenty years to be allowed an interview with the reclusive former leader filled the young fisher named Gutei with excitement. When Gutei was invited to take a seat at the table, Shukko firmly informed her that no questions would be answered until the wolverine's bowl was emptied.
When an unintentional "dook" slipped out of the fisher's mouth, Shukko sighed and put down her spoon. "I can't eat while you're fidgeting like that," the wolverine said in a gravelly voice best suited for shouting commands over the din of battle.
Gutei's bottle-brush tail became limp and still with her shame at the wolverine's rebuke, "Please forgive me, Lady Shukko. I-It's just that you're one of the few of the first generation still alive. If you died before sharing your story, part of our history would die with you."
Shukko chuckled at the worries voiced by the fisher, "Don't let the graying pelt fool you, child. I have more than a few years left in me. And please, don't call me 'Lady Shukko'. It's been many years since I gave up the office of daimyou."
The wolverine picked up the bowl in front of her, which was still half-full of stew, and buried her snout into the food. With three deep breaths, Shukko emptied the bowl. Letting the bowl clatter to the floor, Shukko licked her muzzle and whiskers clean of gravy. "Now that the bowl's empty, I am ready to begin.
"Our eternal exile in these lands began more than fifty years ago. There were a hundred and thirty-four of us then, soldiers in the service of the Musteline Republic. Our nation was under attack from both within and without. The five-year old civil war against the fanatics had shattered the country, and the rodent nations saw an opportunity to crush us, their ancient enemies.
"We had been ordered to relieve a unit fighting several tribes of squirrels. The bush-tailed rodents were sending raiding parties into our territory. Three days out from the fort, our convoy had reached the Hyuga trans-shipment center, were we were to board a ferry to Otouwa near the Mitsugawa Confluence. We would never make that ferry run, or see our home cities again. Earlier that day, an unnaturally thick fog settled over Hyuga and the surrounding area. There was a sign outside the ferry terminal informing all who read it that ferry and rail service had been suspended. Angry at the delay and perceived cowardice on the part of the Navy and transportation workers, I stormed into the ferry terminal. I had my orders, and by Itazou, I was going to fulfill them, no matter the weather." As the elderly wolverine delved into long-buried memories, her body crouched in her chair and tears moistened her eyes as the pain of lost friends and a lost home filled her mind.