OOC Chat 1
Posted: Thu Apr 04, 2024 12:36 am
The ruins of Otosan Uchi, the ninth day of the month of the Hare, 2080
The kick as Hachi dispersed the fire kami in the jeep's engine shocked Dr. Naruse from his reverie. They had arrived somewhat the worse for the journey, dustier at any rate. He fussed with the creases on his pants as he stood worrying his lower lip on the edge of the dig.
And what a dig! 700 years since the last inhabitants--the Yotsu--abandoned the city. A cursed city, the histories claimed, but one with 1100 years as the center of national government for the Rokugani people. An age of clans and daimyo orbiting a divine emperor in mimicry of the planets around the sun. Or something to that effect. And that emperor-the Hantei-resided here, just a couple meters below the surface, within enchanted walls.
They'd found the foundations of those the previous season, of course. Very exciting. Much more funding, now. There was talk that Yoritomo Enterprises would kick in for a new wing of the museum. The sherds alone--mountains of them!--had provided fascinating insight into the pace of development of material culture in the face of the 12th century upheavals, and just under the burn layer as well! Nothing to it! But Naruse had a feeling that last season's glories had been just the first step. Today was going to be a good day. If Dr. Vargas' projections were correct, and he had been right on the money about the Treasury (largely looted, probably contemporaneous with the second sacking, though it was difficult to be absolutely sure. Disappointing, nonetheless.), then the Imperial Archives should be just about…here.
He stopped, looking down at rivers of sweat rushing down Mikio and Rashida's backs. He rolled up his sleeves, banished thoughts of Kakita University for the moment, and applied his hands to the soil. As their ancestors drew life-giving grain, so he and Mikio (and Rashida, though her ancestors were from further afield) would draw history from this heaven-blessed earth.
*****
It took them two days of careful digging, a feature of the site's abandonment, Nimuro's curse a blessing to the archaeologist, until Mikio's pick struck firm stone. It took longer than that to carefully brush away the earth to find the entrance, but find it they did. Right where Dr. Vargas had projected. They were lucky. A stone exterior. They had had to make much of post-holes before, but apparently these feudal Rokugani had valued their documents. Yes, much had been made of his people's commitment to education, at least for the wealthy. And the noble.
No time for that now. The paper could wait. He could feel Mikio and Rashida's anticipation a steady pressure against his shoulder blades. His heart rising into his throat, he put his shoulder to the door and pushed. Dust billowed under his feet; he stumbled , framed by the sunlight through the doorway. He Looked up, fumbling for his lost cool. And there they were: hundreds of scrolls, still in their cases. The motherlode!
******
In retrospect, he should not have squealed. Nowhere in Naruse's imagination had the Moto samurai who had stumbled into the City of Night been anything other than stoic. But then, they were not professionals. They had no idea what they were dealing with. Who could blame him if he got a little excited? He'd have to dress up the report, though. Surely he'd think of something cool he would have said in a more perfect world.
They'd spent hours since then, sorting, cataloguing. 800 scrolls in the first chamber, some in poor condition, admittedly, but who knew what they would find deeper within.
"Professor?"
"Hnn!?" he sputtered, jerking out of his stupor. Rashida pursed her lips and a crease appeared in her brow, he'd like to think out of affectionate exasperation, but who could be sure?
"…Professor, we found something in chamber two."
"Yes?" Naruse wiped coffee from his chin with his handkerchief. "Wasn't chamber three, was it?" he joked, lamely. Winced as it fell on his ear.
"Well…" She hesitated. "Sort of."
******
A secret chamber! So cool! Mikio couldn't help himself. While Rashida went to fetch the Doc, he took the first few steps down the ramp. He let his lantern shed light on walls that, as far as he could tell, had escaped the damage they'd seen in the first two chambers. Yes, the shelves were all intact. No gouges anywhere. Sheltered behind its slab, this room had hidden its treasures from Matsu Nimuro's men, the Yotsu, presumably Iuchiban's people as well.
He heard the shuffling on the floor above, felt the grinding as the slab was moved a bit further away from the mouth. Probably smart, the momentary terror of being shut in here had been unpleasant. He was pleasantly surprised to see Hachi trailing Dr. Naruse and Rashida. The old man nodded at him as he passed, then knelt in the center of the chamber, amid the array of shelves. Ah, Mikio thought, one of his spells. He took an involuntary step back. You never knew with the kami in a place as ancient as this. He'd heard stories of encounters with angry spirits and the like. Still, Doc Naruse didn't seem too worried. Everything's probably chill.
Still, he held his breath when he heard Hachi start to chant, saw the dust start to rise in little eddys around Hachi's legs, felt the stirring of vast centuries in this lonely room.
******
Naruse felt his hands trembling. If the air kami spoke true to Hachi, then…then this, these… He shook his head. Steeled his nerves. He'd start again.
41 scrolls, each in a metal case (bronze? Quite patinated, in any case.) sealed with a large stone pendant bearing the name of Hantei…let's see…Hantei X.
Hantei X!
It was true! 1600 years under a stone slab in the floor of the second chamber of the archives, and a set of seals from the 5th century were in his hands. On his table. In his museum, eventually. Here was a culmination of a career, and the start of one for Rashida and Mikio, if they played their cards right. He and Vargas could ride into the sunset of a never-ending orgy of publications and lecture series. Yes!
Now, let's see… Carefully, carefully he eased the seal from the first case. Carefully, carefully he pried apart the seam in the bronze. Carefully, carefully he eased the millennium-old paper from its metal cradle. And, holding his breath, he unrolled the scroll millimeter by millimeter…
Being a History of the Interregnum, called by some the Time of the Winds, commissioned by the charge laid by Akodo One-Eye unto Ikoma, and penned here by Ikoma Danjiro, his kin in blood and bone.
And then, in a different hand:
Sealed by order of Hantei X. May the memories of this time sleep here in Ikoma Danjiro's history, no more to trouble the peace of the Empire or her people.
Naruse knew, then, what they would find down here. What they had, in effect, found already. When Rashida found the skull under the shrine to Hamanri, it was easy to put a name to it. What had happened? What could have been so terrible that an entire empire wished to forget, and killed an Ikoma Historian to do so? He sighed, looking down at the scroll in his hands. "I believe that I am going to wish," he murmured, "that I had never found you."
And then he began to read...
The kick as Hachi dispersed the fire kami in the jeep's engine shocked Dr. Naruse from his reverie. They had arrived somewhat the worse for the journey, dustier at any rate. He fussed with the creases on his pants as he stood worrying his lower lip on the edge of the dig.
And what a dig! 700 years since the last inhabitants--the Yotsu--abandoned the city. A cursed city, the histories claimed, but one with 1100 years as the center of national government for the Rokugani people. An age of clans and daimyo orbiting a divine emperor in mimicry of the planets around the sun. Or something to that effect. And that emperor-the Hantei-resided here, just a couple meters below the surface, within enchanted walls.
They'd found the foundations of those the previous season, of course. Very exciting. Much more funding, now. There was talk that Yoritomo Enterprises would kick in for a new wing of the museum. The sherds alone--mountains of them!--had provided fascinating insight into the pace of development of material culture in the face of the 12th century upheavals, and just under the burn layer as well! Nothing to it! But Naruse had a feeling that last season's glories had been just the first step. Today was going to be a good day. If Dr. Vargas' projections were correct, and he had been right on the money about the Treasury (largely looted, probably contemporaneous with the second sacking, though it was difficult to be absolutely sure. Disappointing, nonetheless.), then the Imperial Archives should be just about…here.
He stopped, looking down at rivers of sweat rushing down Mikio and Rashida's backs. He rolled up his sleeves, banished thoughts of Kakita University for the moment, and applied his hands to the soil. As their ancestors drew life-giving grain, so he and Mikio (and Rashida, though her ancestors were from further afield) would draw history from this heaven-blessed earth.
*****
It took them two days of careful digging, a feature of the site's abandonment, Nimuro's curse a blessing to the archaeologist, until Mikio's pick struck firm stone. It took longer than that to carefully brush away the earth to find the entrance, but find it they did. Right where Dr. Vargas had projected. They were lucky. A stone exterior. They had had to make much of post-holes before, but apparently these feudal Rokugani had valued their documents. Yes, much had been made of his people's commitment to education, at least for the wealthy. And the noble.
No time for that now. The paper could wait. He could feel Mikio and Rashida's anticipation a steady pressure against his shoulder blades. His heart rising into his throat, he put his shoulder to the door and pushed. Dust billowed under his feet; he stumbled , framed by the sunlight through the doorway. He Looked up, fumbling for his lost cool. And there they were: hundreds of scrolls, still in their cases. The motherlode!
******
In retrospect, he should not have squealed. Nowhere in Naruse's imagination had the Moto samurai who had stumbled into the City of Night been anything other than stoic. But then, they were not professionals. They had no idea what they were dealing with. Who could blame him if he got a little excited? He'd have to dress up the report, though. Surely he'd think of something cool he would have said in a more perfect world.
They'd spent hours since then, sorting, cataloguing. 800 scrolls in the first chamber, some in poor condition, admittedly, but who knew what they would find deeper within.
"Professor?"
"Hnn!?" he sputtered, jerking out of his stupor. Rashida pursed her lips and a crease appeared in her brow, he'd like to think out of affectionate exasperation, but who could be sure?
"…Professor, we found something in chamber two."
"Yes?" Naruse wiped coffee from his chin with his handkerchief. "Wasn't chamber three, was it?" he joked, lamely. Winced as it fell on his ear.
"Well…" She hesitated. "Sort of."
******
A secret chamber! So cool! Mikio couldn't help himself. While Rashida went to fetch the Doc, he took the first few steps down the ramp. He let his lantern shed light on walls that, as far as he could tell, had escaped the damage they'd seen in the first two chambers. Yes, the shelves were all intact. No gouges anywhere. Sheltered behind its slab, this room had hidden its treasures from Matsu Nimuro's men, the Yotsu, presumably Iuchiban's people as well.
He heard the shuffling on the floor above, felt the grinding as the slab was moved a bit further away from the mouth. Probably smart, the momentary terror of being shut in here had been unpleasant. He was pleasantly surprised to see Hachi trailing Dr. Naruse and Rashida. The old man nodded at him as he passed, then knelt in the center of the chamber, amid the array of shelves. Ah, Mikio thought, one of his spells. He took an involuntary step back. You never knew with the kami in a place as ancient as this. He'd heard stories of encounters with angry spirits and the like. Still, Doc Naruse didn't seem too worried. Everything's probably chill.
Still, he held his breath when he heard Hachi start to chant, saw the dust start to rise in little eddys around Hachi's legs, felt the stirring of vast centuries in this lonely room.
******
Naruse felt his hands trembling. If the air kami spoke true to Hachi, then…then this, these… He shook his head. Steeled his nerves. He'd start again.
41 scrolls, each in a metal case (bronze? Quite patinated, in any case.) sealed with a large stone pendant bearing the name of Hantei…let's see…Hantei X.
Hantei X!
It was true! 1600 years under a stone slab in the floor of the second chamber of the archives, and a set of seals from the 5th century were in his hands. On his table. In his museum, eventually. Here was a culmination of a career, and the start of one for Rashida and Mikio, if they played their cards right. He and Vargas could ride into the sunset of a never-ending orgy of publications and lecture series. Yes!
Now, let's see… Carefully, carefully he eased the seal from the first case. Carefully, carefully he pried apart the seam in the bronze. Carefully, carefully he eased the millennium-old paper from its metal cradle. And, holding his breath, he unrolled the scroll millimeter by millimeter…
Being a History of the Interregnum, called by some the Time of the Winds, commissioned by the charge laid by Akodo One-Eye unto Ikoma, and penned here by Ikoma Danjiro, his kin in blood and bone.
And then, in a different hand:
Sealed by order of Hantei X. May the memories of this time sleep here in Ikoma Danjiro's history, no more to trouble the peace of the Empire or her people.
Naruse knew, then, what they would find down here. What they had, in effect, found already. When Rashida found the skull under the shrine to Hamanri, it was easy to put a name to it. What had happened? What could have been so terrible that an entire empire wished to forget, and killed an Ikoma Historian to do so? He sighed, looking down at the scroll in his hands. "I believe that I am going to wish," he murmured, "that I had never found you."
And then he began to read...
