PROMO: The Men in the High Castle

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To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heavens.

- Ecclesiastes

 

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The old mansion was dark and foreboding. There were few lights in this aged place, and from the looks of the outside, few around it, either. This manor seemed to be a relic from the 19th century, its profound Victorian archetecture and otherwise western style somewhat out of place in its surroundings of Shinto temples old beyond memory, mountain and forest unsullied by man. Areas like this in Japan, even in its "sparsely" populated northern perfectures, were rare.

 

But when one thought about it, this mansion did not truly seem out of place. A home in the forest, perhaps, but still with the majestic countenance of its surroundings: ancient and yet still untouched by the modern world. For here, things had been made to endure... both inside and out of its walls.

 

Deep within the manor burned one source of light, from the most important of its many rooms. Sitting around a long, square table of polished oak, the most important of its guests. A dozen men illuminated by a few candelabra, and still with their faces and lives shrouded in darkness. Asians, Europeans and Americans; businessmen, politicians, intellectuals and philanthropists...

 

Magistrates.

 

Men who had seen and shaped the world with the knowledge of none. Men that had made and broken both lives and without second thoughts. The unseen hands manipulating pawns on a chessboard that covered the world. Men who wielded power as ancient as the land around them but invisible as the spirits. The last remnants of the Supaida-Kumo Clan.

 

"...and we have once again been able to secure a generous loan from the Nataka corporation, with which we should be able to stabalize our operations in North America. That concludes my report," one of the men to the right of the table, just finished speaking, looked over the others for their approval before returning to his seat.

 

"Very good, Amari-san," Immediately, all eyes turned to the head of the table.

 

There sat a withered man, frail and elderly, yet still dignified and noble. He slouched over, his bony hands clasped together underneath his chin. Although his face was mostly hidden, his Asian features were unmistakble, trembling slightly from the early onset of Parkinson's. He spoke at barely a whisper, and yet all the other men present leaned forward to listen, attentively and respectively. Known only as Lord Izumi, he was their leader, the first among remaining equals.

 

"We have reached 90% operational capacity, my Lord," the man identified as Amari replied. "If I may say so, we are poised to begin the next phase of our operation."

 

At this, Lord Izumi paused, eleven other men looking at him expenctantly. He sighed. "As I am sure you are all aware," he began, "I am uncomfortable with going towards the next phase. It has been almost a decade since have moved without the permission of the Master."

 

"If I may say so, Lord Izumi, and respectfully of course," came an American voice, young and proud. "Master Nekura's vaunted timetable lies in ruins. I think it may be fair to say that in his prolonged absense, we have been making movements without the permession, or even the very presence of the master. I would go so far as to venture that he is no longer necessary to our plans."

 

"I agree," came another voice, this one again distinctly Asian. "The Clan survived long before Reece Black, and we will survive long after Reece Black. In fact, to think that a... a *gaijan* was master of the Supaida-Kumo Clan for so long--" worrisome murmurs broke out amongst the others, "--bothers me enough. I have the utmost confidence in you, Lord Izumi."

 

Lord Izumi himself, however, seemed unfazed by such brash comments. "You forget that if it were not for Master Nekura and his contingency plan, we would not have been able to rebuild and move on. Even now, we remain on his timetable. We remain in his presence because we remain working on his perfect schedule.

 

However, the fact cannot be denied that he cannot be found, or does not wish to be found," Lord Izumi continued, drawing a deep breath. "We have completed all that he laid out for us, and to hesitate now would mean death. But to move too quickly could also mean death - we must keep in mind that we are no more than half as powerful as we were in the past, perhaps less than that."

 

To the men at the table, these words kept a deeper meaning. There was an uncomfortable pause before the American spoke up once again. "You speak of the deserters, Lord Izumi?"

 

The old man nodded slightly. "Yes. I feel as though we should move ahead, but cautiously - the deserters pose a great risk to us, and must now become our first priority. The knowledge that they posess could undo the Clan for good, and destroy all that we have worked so hard to rebuild. More than that, they could destroy our very selves, our lives."

 

Again, murmus. Again, the American voice spoke. "What are you suggesting we do?"

 

"Find them, lure them back," a voice from the far left of the table announced. "They belong to us, to the Clan! Surely they must realize--"

 

"No," said Lord Izumi, rapidly quieting the previous speaker. "We are no longer in a position to demand such things, at least from them. The deserters left of their own accord, imputently, and they will surely not return of it."

 

Pause.

 

"Yuuichiro Kaesame and Nathaniel Kibagami must be eliminated. And to do this, we must dedicate all our resources."

 

An uncomfortable silence swept through the room. The Balancer... the Slaughterer... powerful men indeed, and perhaps the two best agents the Clan had even know. Powerful enough, at least, that the Clan could no longer keep them. But to dedicate everything, three years of work, to two men...

 

"Preposterous." The American voice boldly declared, perhaps with false pretense. "They are only two men, Lord Izumi. They can't possibly be so much of a threat!" At last surprised, the old man turned to him in shock.

 

"If they left us of their own will," the American continued, "then let them hide! Why waste resources on men who do not wish to be found, like Nerkura? All we would be doing is sacrificing our best agents for nothing! Who would be foolish enough to face either of them anyway?"

 

Lord Izumi raised an arm, preparing to speak, but was not given the chance. A new voice entered the conversation, away from the table and towards the back of the room. "My Lords, if I may interrupt. But it is this very additude that nearly doomed the Clan in the first place. Such heedless arrogance and presumptuousness will result in our deaths, not in our enemy's. The Balancer and the Slaughterer are tied to the Clan, now and forever. If they become aware of our operations, they will most certainly take action against us. Additionally... they are not the only ones who left our Clan. Should we allow every worthless seive and miscreant to simply run away whenever they please? What of the warlords who broke away after the Master's disappearance? Should they also go unpunished?"

 

The man's voice was smooth and pleasing, both intelligent and mischievious and almost totally free of an accent, though it did little to hid the sinister connotations of his language. He stepped away from the wall, revealing himself to be a short, yet lithe and athletic figure, although his face could not be seen. "They must be made an example of, starting with Kaesame and Kibagami. All of them."

 

THe American rose out of his chair, "And who the hell are you two be saying such things!?"

 

"This is the man who will find Kaesame and Kibagami for us," said Lord Izumi, sounding very satisfied. "If Kibagami was the Slaughterer that destroyed, Nekura was the Reaper that collected, and Thoth the Balancer between them... then he is the Inquisitor who will judge them and bring law."

 

At once, eleven pairs of eyes turn to the short man standing next to Lord Izumi. The man earlier identified as Amari-san speaks, "Well then... Inquisitor... what is *your* plan?"

 

The hint of a smile crosses the Inquisitor's face. "That... is a secret.

 

"What I can tell you is contained within this," said the Inquisitor, placing a manilla folder on the desk. "They were most responsive to the Master's methods, and so I intend to use them to draw them back out. I have been investigating this former Nobunaga Firm wrestling company that the Balancer and the Slaughterer were so enamoured with for the past few months... and it seems that a great many Clan members were also associated with them. Now that we are enjoying stability in the United States once again..."

 

"Are you certain this is a good idea, Lord Izumi?" questions Amari-san. "Revealing ourselves so soon, so publically?"

 

"The time has come to reveal ourselves," replies the Inquisitor. "You wills be done, my Lords. I will find them."

 

"So says the Clan, then." Lord Izumi mutters, catching the attention of everyone. "What has been discussed here tonight is of the strictest secrecy. We will move forward with these new plans, and we will reconvene in one month. Inquisitor, you are dismissed."

 

Bowing curtly, the Inquisitor disappears back into the shadows of the room, as all of the other men stand and bow to Lord Izumi. As they exit, the first paper in the open manilla folder can be clearly seen, listing the names of famous Clan members in recent memory. John Kruger, Christian Fury, Tom Flesher. And before the candles go out, there is a glimpse of single, encircled name...

 

Terrence Bailey.

 

~FIN~

[muzz 0]

Trippy.

[Vasarian_Brandy 0]

... This bears keeping an eye on for yours truly...

[Bruce Blank 0]

The Inquisitor you say??

 

 

Well he is known for his powers of surprise... surprise and and fear...fear and surprise.... his two weapons are fear and surprise...and ruthless efficiency.... His three weapons are fear, surprise, and ruthless efficiency...and an almost fanatical devotion to the Pope.... Arrrrgh!! His four...no... Amongst his weapons.... Amongst his weaponry...are such elements as fear, surprise...

 

ah forget it

[Toxxic 0]

This has the potential to either suck harder than a well-paid whore, or be absolutely fucking brilliant.

 

Roll on.