Warlord

Chapter Eight

It’s raining, was Iruka’s first thought as he regained consciousness, but I’m indoors. Another drop fell on his cheek, causing him to slowly crack open his eyes. At the first hesitant flutter the warlord began to whisper encouragement. “That’s it ‘ruka, open your eyes for me. Please come back, it’s been too long, I need your help. Open your eyes for me.”

“Master?” the scribe croaked hoarsely, “Why are you crying?” He reached out a shaky hand to wipe the tears from a pale cheek.

“What do you remember, ‘ruka?” Kakashi asked gently.

The scribe obediently searched his recent memories and hesitantly began, “You went to the outposts, I went to the mess and came back here to work.” he lifted confused chocolate orbs to meet the warlord’s worried gaze, “and then I was waking up . . . why are you back, did something happen, were we invaded?”

“You were attacked ‘ruka,” Kakashi began in a soft voice, deciding not to give the scribe any details for fear of upsetting him. “Genma found you unconscious and took you to the medics before fetching me. You’ve been unconscious for several days. But now you’re back . . . I was so worried.” He hesitated before reaching out a hand to tenderly stroke a bronze cheek, “I’m so, so sorry . . . this is all my fault, I should never have left you alone.”

“I’m a slave, master,” Iruka said softly, “it’s not right that you worry so about me.”

“You are my companion,” the warlord corrected him with a small smile, “and I couldn’t stop worrying if I tried. I was afraid I was going to lose you . . . you have become” here he hesitated for a moment, searching for the right word, “precious to me. I have grown to depend on your counsel, you’re really very wise ‘ruka.”

Iruka was stunned. This was more than he could process right now. A part of him was jumping with joy at the declaration . . . but another part recoiled from it, reminding him yet again that all he’d have, in the end, was a broken heart.

“I hate to do this, but I need your help ‘ruka. I have to punish the men who hurt you. I want to kill them . . . slowly,” he clenched a powerful fist and Iruka recoiled from the blazing hatred in those mismatched orbs, “but I can’t afford to alienate the men. Will you be very disappointed in me if I let them live? I promise, they will suffer . . .”

“Master, you can’t punish free men for injuring a slave.” Iruka started urgently, attempting to push himself up in the bed, only to fall back, wincing at the pain. “No matter how badly they hurt me, although you’ll never know how much it means to me that you want to. Your men won’t stand for it.”

“Fine,” the warlord bit out, “then I’ll punish them for their disloyalty to me, but, make no mistake, they will be punished.” His mouth was set in a hard line and his eyes seemed to be focused miles away. “Now,” he said, turning to the scribe with a smile, “do you think you could eat or drink something?”

He was overjoyed when Iruka managed a cup of weak tea and a few spoons of watery oatmeal. He carefully tucked the scribe into bed before sliding in beside him, reaching out possessively to gather him in his arms, murmuring words of comfort as he gently petted him with long smooth stokes down his back, relaxing him much as one would a giant cat, before finally falling into an exhausted slumber himself.

Raidou’s expression was grim. No matter how it turned out, this was a bad business and he couldn’t wait until it was settled. He had already managed to round up half the men he was looking for, and he had a feeling he’d find most of the rest of them playing dice behind the supply tent.

He smiled when they rounded the corner and he spotted four of the five men he was looking for, including Ibiki. The general cleared his throat to gain the players’ attention. “Good evening men,” he began conversationally, giving the guards time to move into position behind the men being arrested, “how’s your luck this evening?”

“Join us and find out.” one of the men urged.

“I’d love to, but I can’t. I’m here on business.” At that the guards took hold of the four men, forcing them to rise and face the general. “You four are under arrest for treason. You performed acts of disloyalty against our commander and dishonored him. He will pass judgment in the morning at muster.”

Three of the men stayed silent, knowing it was pointless to argue. Ibiki, however, was incensed. “What do you mean treason?” he growled, “I have always been loyal to Hatake, I’ve served with him for years.”

Raidou’s reply was short and to the point, “Oh, so you define loyalty by rape? I haven’t heard that before.”

“Rape . . .all I did was put an uppity slave in his place, besides it’s his word against mine.” The bald man retorted angrily.

“In the first place,” the general ground out through clenched teeth, “that slave is the VERY expensive property of the commander. He is a trained scribe and cost more than you make in five years. Even if he was a pleasure slave . . . the commander does NOT share his personal property. And it’s not his word against yours, unfortunately for you he has yet to regain consciousness. One of your little party decided to come clean and confessed . . . and since he had everything to lose, yes, his word does carry more weight than yours. In any event, it is out of my hands. Hatake will deal with you in the morning . . . if I were you I’d pray that his slave wakes up before then.”

With that Raidou turned and left in search of the last man, leaving the guards to escort them to the makeshift jail, not having had need of such a structure before.

Once all the men were under guard Raidou headed to the warlord’s tent to let him know. He thought nothing of pulling the flap back and striding in, sure that, this time at least, he wasn’t going to be interrupting any intimate activities. What he found was, in his opinion, even worse. The fierce warlord was, at that moment, tenderly clutching the slave to his chest as he slept, one hand woven in the scribe’s long chocolate locks, the other on his lower back.

Raidou stared at the pair soberly for a long time. This is what Kakashi was talking about . . . and he still found it profoundly disturbing. His friend had lived a hard, lonely life and he didn’t begrudge him companionship, but this was a weakness, and a warlord can not afford to be weak. I’ll mention it to him again, he thought, but I won’t push the matter. We need to get through the morning first.

“Oi, Kakashi,” he whispered as he gently shook his shoulder, “it’s Raidou.”

The warlord opened his eyes and fixed his gaze on the general. “Is my problem taken care of Rai?”

“They’re all under guard . . . only Ibiki gave me a hard time. May I ask what you intend to do to them?”

“Everyone except Ibiki will lose rank and get ten lashes . . . public lashes, all to attend, no excuses. As for Morino, you’ll find out tomorrow with everyone else.” His eyes softened as he looked down at the man on his chest, “He doesn’t remember Rai, any of it . . . and I don’t want him to find out. Tomorrow morning send Genma here to stay with him during muster, he doesn’t need to know about that either, at least not yet.”

“As you wish.” the general replied curtly before turning to leave.

“Rai,” a steely voice stopped him in his tracks, “you have problem with something?” The threat was clear, but the general could no longer hold his tongue.

“Yes, I damn well do. I have a problem with this,” he waved his hand at the picture the warlord and his slave made, “it’s going to lead to grief. You need it stop it now.”

Kakashi merely shook his head, silver locks shading his overly bright eyes from view. His voice was husky when he finally replied, “I couldn’t even if I wanted to . . . and I don’t. I will not discuss this again.” he said with finality, and the general merely nodded, tight lipped, before wheeling and exiting the tent.

Morning dawned grey and raw. The warlord had been up pacing for hours, readying himself for the task facing him. All too soon Genma was waiting outside. “Enter.” came the smooth, clear voice. “Ah, good morning. I need you to keep an eye on my scribe during muster this morning, make sure he doesn’t leave the tent.” With that Kakashi strode off, heading for the parade grounds and morning muster.

The men assembled hurriedly. Morning muster was something best put behind you for the comfort of the morning mess, so there were rarely any stragglers. Once all the men had assembled, eleven men were brought out to face them, hands tied behind their backs.

“Wait,” called a voice from the ranks, and Tetsuyami Rei moved forward to join them.

“Tetsuyami?” the warlord asked, “What are you doing?”

“I am as guilty as they are, I will take my punishment with them.” he said, lowering his head in shame. “Perhaps it will help me accept what I did.”

Kakashi merely nodded his acquiescence and turned to face the ranks. “These men,” he began in a cold, hard voice, “stand accused of treason. They brutally assaulted MY scribe in MY tent and left him for dead. Not only are you guilty of irreversibly damaging my expensive personal property, but of endangering our campaigns as well. The scribe’s abilities are vital to our continued correspondence with the borders and beyond.”

Here the warlord stopped and swept his gaze over the assembled men, all of whom quailed at the hardness in his eyes. “I have been told that this attack occurred out of some misguided loyalty to me on the part of most of these men. Although, to set the record straight, my slave has never been anything but obedient and subservient, as he should be, and, even if that were not the case, I am more than capable of disciplining a slave myself should the need arise. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”

The men held their collective breath, they had never seen their commander this serious outside of battle. “I hope so,” Kakashi continued, “I would NOT like a repeat of this incident, the punishment for a second offense would be far more severe.” The men shuddered at the thought, even if they didn’t even know what the punishment was yet.

The warlord began to list the names of eleven of the prisoners, ending with Tetsuyami Rei. “You shall lose one grade in rank, loss of leave for one month and ten lashes . . . to be administered now.” One by one the men were stripped of their upper garments and tied to a large post. As each man took his turn Kakashi stood, tight lipped and hard eyed. He, himself, wielded the lash, and he had no mercy, making sure the tip wrapped around to tear at the soft flesh of their chest even as the skin on their backs split and bled.

When he was done he waited for the last of the men to be taken away and tended to before turning to Morino Ibiki. “You, Morino, are an entirely different problem.” the warlord said softly, “I believe you have aspirations to replace me.”

Ibiki said nothing, but the side of his mouth quirked up in a smirk and his eyes glittered with mirth.

“Since you say nothing in your defense you are found guilty of high treason, punishable by death. May the gods have mercy on you . . . because I will not.” With that Kakashi grabbed Ibiki around the throat, lifting him up in the air to dangle in front of him. The warlord’s other hand held a large dagger. He calmly slashed the bald man’s chest open and dropped the knife, before reaching in and tearing out his still beating heart. Holding it in the air as he dropped the lifeless body he faced the dumbstruck ranks. “Does anyone else wish to challenge my leadership?” He asked with a small smile. When no sound was forthcoming he continued, “I thought not. Dismissed.” and he walked away, heading back to his tent and Iruka, leaving his trusted generals to shake their heads and wonder what would come of this day.