Assassin's Creed: Fragments - The Blade of Aizu E-Book

Olivier Gay

• Herausgeber: Titan Books
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

A gripping story of sibling loyalty in the last days of medieval Japan. The first novel in a trilogy from the iconic Assassin's Creed universe.Japan, 1868. The Boshin War is about to break out.The Templars have infiltrated the Emperor's closest advisors and push the sovereign to launch an attack against the Tokugawa Shogun, who is supported by the Brotherhood of Assassins. Is the glorious era of the samurai almost over?16-year-old Atsuko grew up in the affluent areas of the city of Aizu in the shadow of her brother Ibuka. Destined for an arranged marriage, the girl hides a secret: she can wield weaponry just as well as her brother, whose skill with the blade hides an insurmountable fear of combat.When war breaks out, Ibuka must set off to fight alongside his father. Defying the tradition forbidding women from joining the army in order to protect her brother, Atsuko secretly joins up in disguise, desperate to prove her skills.But faced with plots that go far beyond them, will the strength of the siblings' bond prove strong enough?

Leseprobe

Contents

Cover

Also in the Assassin’s Creed – Fragments Series and Available from Titan Books

Title Page

Leave us a Review

Copyright

Map

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

21

22

Epilogue

Characters

Also in the Assassin’s Creed – Fragments series and available from Titan Books:

The Highlands Children(coming July 2023)

The Witches of the Moors(coming Jan 2024)

LEAVE US A REVIEW

We hope you enjoy this book – if you did we would really appreciate it if you can write a short review. Your ratings really make a difference for the authors, helping the books you love reach more people.

You can rate this book, or leave a short review here:

Amazon.com,

Amazon.co.uk,

Goodreads,

Barnes & Noble,

Waterstones,

or your preferred retailer.

Assassin’s Creed – Fragments: The Blade of Aizu

Print edition ISBN: 9781803363547

E-book edition ISBN: 9781803363882

Published by Titan Books

A division of Titan Publishing Group Ltd

144 Southwark Street, London SE1 0UP

www.titanbooks.com

First edition: June 2023

1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead (except for satirical purposes), is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

Copyright © 2023 Ubisoft Entertainment. All rights reserved. Assassin’s Creed, Ubisoft, and the Ubisoft logo are trademarks of Ubisoft Entertainment in the U.S. and/or other countries.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

Map design by Darth Zazou.

Translation by Jessica Burton.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

1868

1

The two weapons clashed with a loud clunk and Atsuko stepped back, forced to cede ground. She had anticipated the move and pivoted on her right leg to return with a tsuki,1 a low and long blow that should have hit her brother in the throat but slipped past him despite his defensive stance.

“This time, I’ll…” she started.

She had no time to finish before he struck her sword faster than she had anticipated and she had to jump backwards to avoid being hit. She dove to the side, rolled over, and adopted a defensive position, just in time to avoid being spiked in her side by the bokken.2 As soon as her shoulders hit the walls of the dojo,3 she knew he had manipulated her. The weapon came towards her skull, she closed her eyes… and felt a gentle tap on her forehead.

“You talk too much,” said Ibuka, dropping his guard.

Atsuko pushed aside the strand of hair that had fallen out of her bun and into her eyes, and stuck out her tongue.

“I hate you.”

“’Course you don’t. You love me.”

“One doesn’t prevent the other. I’ll never beat you or even hit you. I’m no good.”

The young girl slid to the floor in a sulk. After a moment’s hesitation, her brother followed suit. His mischievous grin disappeared, replaced with a seriousness that seemed out of place for his age of seventeen.

“Don’t say that. You’re the most skilled girl I know.”

“Yeah. The most skilled girl,” she pouted.

“OK, OK. You’re the most skilled person of sixteen I know. Hmm, or maybe the second; Hoshi is doing really well.”

“But that’s not enough to beat you.”

Ibuka leaned against the wall, his hands behind his head, with an indolent expression like a Cheshire cat.

“Because I’m a genius, little sister. Everyone says so, so it must be true. It’s not that you don’t have talent; it’s that I have too much.”

“Oh, you’re impossible,” groaned Atsuko, punching him on the arm.

The worst thing was that he was right. Her brother was the golden boy of all the samurai4 of Aizu, who had no hesitation in seeing him as the reincarnation of great legends of history like Miyamoto Musashi or Sasaki Kojiro. Everything Ibuka did seemed effortless: his blows were always precisely measured, his dodges perfect, his feints untouchable. He possessed phenomenal agility, stupefying reflexes, impressive coordination, and an intuition that was almost mystical.

In short, he was infuriating.

“One day I’ll beat you,” she promised quietly. “One day you’ll make a mistake and I’ll breach your defenses.”

“One day, but not right now, little sister.” He laughed as he ruffled her hair. “That being said, I was serious when I said how skilled you are. You’re the one who’s come closest. You almost put me in danger just now.”

“Really?” gasped Atsuko, full of hope.

“No, not really, but I thought it might make you happy.”

The teenage girl rolled her eyes. But it was difficult to stay mad at her brother for too long. He was so bright, always full of good humor. Plus, he had done so much for her.

After all, it was thanks to his support that she was allowed to train with weapons despite being a girl. When he realized that she had been sneaking into the dojo to secretly do her exercises at the age of six, he had begged his father to let her join in his lessons. She had been able to learn not just kenjutsu,5 but also kyujutsu,6bajutsu7 and jujutsu8 at her brother’s side and with the most eminent instructors of Aizu. Bless her father for permitting her such an enriched childhood.

As though the mere thought of him conjured his arrival, the stocky shadow of Shiba Tanomo appeared in the entry of the dojo. He was as massive as his children were skilled, with arms as big as a normal man’s thighs and hands the size of anvils. But when he was not on the battlefield, he was the sweetest of men and the most tender of fathers.

“So who won?”

“You know very well,” sulked Atsuko.

“But she did give me trouble,” her brother gallantly defended her. “She has a real talent.”

“Of course she has talent. She’s my daughter.” Tanomo gave them a huge smile. “I’m so proud of you both. Ibuka, you will become a great samurai, I’m sure of it. Your adventures will spread throughout Japan and will even reach the ears of the Emperor of Edo.”

Despite the sincere compliment, the young girl was crushed.

Her father had not mentioned her on purpose. She may have been skilled with a katana9—less so than her brother for sure, but who could top him?—but she would never become a samurai. Tanomo had already proved his incredible open-mindedness in letting her train as a man. No doubt he had had to smile and endure the acidic remarks of his friends and their comparisons with their daughters.

She knew the majority of fathers expected their daughters to be well-presented, smiley, docile and ready for a good marriage, if possible into an influential family in the court. The samurai were respected, but their prestige was in decline and their fortunes were diminishing in the age of mercantile trade. More and more, the bourgeois were winning over the favor of the Emperor, and the warriors had little influence in times of peace. This trade-off worked perfectly between the commoners seeking respect and the depleted samurai.

Moreover, Atsuko was well aware that she had few friends. The girls her age did not share the same types of interests and didn’t stop talking about boys. Oh, she had tried so hard to integrate. She had even gone to the effort of combing her hair and wearing a furisode10 for the occasion of the Setsuban11 just like all the other single girls in her town. The result had not been what she had hoped for.

Yasuhime had mocked the scar on the left side of her temple, the result of a misjudged dodge two weeks prior; Tomoe couldn’t maintain her stern posture amidst the laughter of the other girls; and even though Munemi pretended to be more understanding than the others, it had only been to casually ask Atsuko if her brother was seeing anyone at the moment.

Yes, Atsuko’s father was incredible; but even he could not go against tradition. Long ago, female samurai existed and were even particularly well respected. But that era was definitively over.

Which, she concluded petulantly in her head, wasn’t fair at all.

“You didn’t come here simply to compliment us,” stated Ibuka, seeking out his father’s gaze. “What’s the real reason for your visit?”

Tanomo boomed with laughter as big as his shoulders, just as huge as his arms.

“So I can’t keep even the slightest secret from you? Very well. We have been invited to Matsudaira Katamori’s house in a week. He has heard about your exploits and wishes to meet you. I don’t want to give false hope, but it’s possible he’s looking for new hatamoto.”12

Ibuka leapt to his feet, and in his excitement, dropped his bokken onto his bare toes.

“Ow!” he cried, blushing right up to his hairline.

“That’s exactly the type of behavior that must be avoided during the feast.” Tanomo chuckled. “Our daimyo13 is expecting a young man of legend, a new Musashi, and not a teenager gone to seed who cannot control his emotions.”

Despite his cordial tone, Atsuko could detect an undercurrent of worry. Her father was not at ease in the high society of Aizu; one did not refuse an invitation from their daimyo, but he would probably spend the week ruminating and worrying about what could go wrong and potentially bring dishonor on the family. Tanomo was a fearless warrior, proven by all the scars on his chest—and none on his back, he would insist proudly—but he knew that his bear-like manners did not make him popular at ceremonies and official dinners. His son had the opportunity to make a good impression, and perhaps there would not be another.

“I will do my best not to embarrass you, Father,” replied Ibuka, rubbing his big toe.

“I am certain of it. Atsuko, you are invited too, of course.”

The teenage girl looked at her father, her mouth wide open. Was she dreaming?

Had she been mistaken from the beginning about his intentions? Was he really ready to defy tradition? Could she too be chosen to protect the daimyo? After all, if anyone could bring a woman into his personal guard, it would be Matsudaira Katamori. No one would ever question his decisions.

“Really?” she whispered, ready to cry.

“Of course,” confirmed her father, smiling at her tenderly. “It will be the chance to bring out that magnificent furisode you wore to the festival. You wouldn’t believe the number of compliments it brought you. Whatever you might think, you’re a very attractive girl when you make a bit of effort.”

Atsuko felt her heart break. Suddenly, she could hardly breathe.

“What do you mean?” she barely managed to spit out.

“Dad, you’re so tactless,” protested Ibuka. “Atsuko looks incredible even when she doesn’t make an effort.”

“Ah, right, of course! I’m sorry, you know me, I’ve never been good at finding the right words,” apologized Tanomo, with another fit of laughter. “All I meant was that you looked wonderful in your dress, and that I’m sure you’ll make just as big of an impression as your brother at the daimyo’s reception.”

But not for the same reasons, thought the young girl sulkily.

Her father was full of good intentions but had no idea how much his words wounded her. The blessed period of her life was most certainly over. Even though she had followed the exact same training as her brother, their paths were about to separate. He would become a samurai while she would marry some Imperial paper-pusher who had the good sense to find her appealing in a kimono.

Now was the moment to talk to her father, right this second, now. She would never again have as much courage as she had in the dojo where she had spent so much of her life. She once again sought out the spark in his eyes, and was struck by inspiration and began:

“Father… I wanted to ask you—”

He turned towards her, so big, so gigantic, with his loving look and unfailing confidence in his children.

“Of course,” he interrupted with a generous wave. “If you want a new dress, I can try to arrange it. You know we are not as rich as we were before, but nothing is too good for my daughter. How would you feel about going to see old Hanae tomorrow? They say she gets fabrics directly from the capital.”

Atsuko tried to dry her eyes discreetly on the sleeve of her training tunic. A good daughter of a good family did not cry in public.

“Of course,” she sniffed. “I would love that.”

1 Attack to the throat, with the aim of hitting the carotid artery.

2 Japanese sword made of wood to imitate the shape of the katana, usually used for training.

3 Practice room for the learning of martial arts.

4 Members of the warrior class who ruled feudal Japan from the beginning of the Edo era.

5 Traditional Japanese sword art of the samurai.

6 Traditional Japanese archery, practiced by samurai.

7 Traditional Japanese art of war on horseback.

8 Art that brings together combat techniques developed by the samurai in the Edo era.

9 Sword of more than twenty-four inches, symbol of the samurai caste.

10 Type of kimono, and the most noble traditional Japanese wear.

11 Japanese national festival celebrating the arrival of Spring according to the ancient lunar calendar. Today, it is celebrated on February 3 each year.

12 Official guard of a daimyo or Shogun (master), in feudal Japan. The hatamoto were often used as an elite force or rapid reinforcement in the direct service of the Tokugawa shogunate.

13 Japanese title for a noble, which means a master, a governor from the military class, who acted under the orders of the Shogun in feudal Japan.

2

Summer in Edo could be stifling. It had not rained in two months and the city baked under the scorching sun. The daimyo families could shelter under the shade of the trees in their large gardens around the castle, but the commoners could not afford the same luxury. The cherry trees that adorned the Imperial route dropped their branches during the heatwave and the merchants had moved their carts to the Buddhist temples to benefit from the shade of the frontispieces. As soon as they could, the residents flocked to refresh themselves on the banks of the river Sumida, sometimes forgetting that they did not know how to swim, and the treacherous waters had already claimed several careless people.

Under the heavy atmosphere, tempers were quick to flare, and despite the efforts of the guards, crime rates had never been so high. Tavern disputes often ended in deaths or injuries, so much so that the bodies of the losers were found abandoned on the streets.

Edo was the capital of the Empire, the center of cultural, political, and economic life in Japan. However, the situation would not worsen there, but in another more modest town at the other end of the archipelago, Nagasaki. It was one of the only places on the island where Westerners were allowed and where their ships could moor.

That night, two British sailors disembarked and headed for the downtown area to enjoy the pleasure sector. They had spent several months at sea, had full pockets, and expected to fully enjoy their night.

They were found dead the next day.

And the destiny of Japan was shaped.

*   *   *

“You can’t let this go! If you say nothing, the situation will repeat itself and the British Empire will become the laughingstock of the world!” gasped William Lloyd.

In one gulp, he emptied the glass the server had just brought him.

Lloyd loved tea, like every British person blessed to be so, but he could never get used to the ceremony arranged by the Japanese around it. Served quickly, drank quickly, that was how he liked his drink. That left him more time to attend to important affairs.

And this affair was particularly important.

In front of him, Harry Parkes lowered his gaze, unable to maintain his fiery glare. The British consul was an experienced and competent man, but he did not have the stomach to make difficult decisions. He remained convinced that a bad peace was worth more than a good war, and that the most efficient change was brought about slowly by extensive cooperation.

In short, he suffered from an incorrigible sense of idealism.

This was why the Order of the Templars had operated in the shadows to assign one of theirs to act as his right hand. In this prestigious post, Lloyd could follow the political cogs between the British Empire and the archipelago in real time.

And, sometimes, even influence the events—with or without the consent of the consul.

“Rest assured, I do not intend to remain inactive,” concluded Parkes with a grimace. “I have already requested an audience with the Emperor to express my displeasure and that of the whole Commonwealth. I expect to carry out a thorough investigation in Nagasaki and ask to have the city put under curfew until we have found those responsible. And when we get our hands on them, justice will be swift. The residents must understand that we are untouchable.”