The barricaded gates rolled open with a screech of metal, and the jeeps pulled out onto the highway toward downtown Fukuoka. The sun, still barely visible through the fog, burned like a white disk against a backdrop of grey. They drove over new roads and bridges through sparse forests and past acres of rice paddies.
“You must be something special, son.” Kaneshiro said finally. “The empire has dispatched a train specifically to bring you down to Europe. Even I don’t get that kind of treatment.” The old general grinned, even though it wasn’t a joke. For the first time in the evening, Caius smiled back. Kaneshiro had a way of making people comfortable despite his rank.
“You know,” he continued, “If there is anything you did not want to say in front of Lucullus, you can say it now. Any reason you might be sought after by the Emperor himself?”
Caius shook his head. “Not that I can think of, Sir.”
The general was satisfied by this answer. “Are you at all familiar with politics, my boy?”
Caius shook his head. “Only what I have studied in history and read in a few books,” he answered.
“Rome can be … an odd place,” Kaneshiro continued, struggling to put his emotions into words, waving his hands as though he could snatch the right words out of the air. “For those of us raised here in the East, it can be quite a shock.” He seemed to be struggling to find the right words. “Do you know anything about my career, Caius?” He knew the answer already, but was asking to be polite. Caius nodded in response, unsure of what to say; he could sense the pain in the general’s voice. Everyone knew that he had risen quickly through the ranks of the military after his legendary campaign last time the Ming Emperor in Exile had tried to retake Southern China; Kaneshiro had even counterattacked and claimed Hanoi in the name of the Empire.
“I was involved in the most recent war with the Ming, and the Empire’s forces were very successful.” He didn’t want to take credit for it himself, but Caius knew the truth. “After our victory, I too was summoned to Rome in a similar manner. The Emperor himself honored me with the Steel Crown and assigned me as deputy to his War Minister. He even graced me with a title of Nobility.” The old general smiled briefly at the memory. “But after only a few months, the Emperor announced that he had chosen one of his sons as heir, a young man that I had never even seen around the Palace. The new heir took an instant disliking to the War Minister, and by extension, me. As soon as he became Emperor, I was dismissed from my position and ‘reassigned’ here in disgrace.” Even decades later, the pain was still visible.
“I don’t know why the emperor has summoned you, but regardless of his reason, you will be thrust into the politics of the Empire, and there is no more dangerous position. Be warned that you are now a piece in their chess match, even if you don’t want to play. Anyone that you think you can trust: forget it. No matter who it is, they want to use you to elevate their own position. They’ll forget about you as soon as they stop needing you. Just be warned, son,” Kaneshiro said finally. “These Westerners are wildly unpredictable, and have no honor.” The conversation turned to happier topics, and the general did not bring up the subject again.
The jeep crested a hill, revealing the sprawling metropolis of Fukuoka under them. It had been an important port even back when it was part of the Shogunate. With the Roman annexation, it had become larger than even Tokyo or Kyoto. They passed through the massive, ornately carved marble triumphal arch, at least fifteen stories high, commemorating the victory almost sixty five years ago. The foundation was built over the crumbling remains of the city walls, a reminder to the citizens that none could withstand Rome’s power.
They soon arrived at the train station, jam packed with commuters streaming out of the city. Through the hubbub, the guards cleared a bubble for Kaneshiro and Caius; no one wanted to get close to a group of Praetorians. They made their way to the far end of the track where a sleek silver train waited, guarded by a perimeter of soldiers. It looked incredibly out of place: a gleaming steel beast surrounded by the old, pre-war era station made of carved wooden beams, paper walls, and peeling paint.
Kaneshiro stopped by the door and shook his hand. “You’re a good soldier, Caius. You’re going to be just fine there.” He grabbed Caius’ hand and shook heartily, pulling Caius in close. “Just remember what I said,” he whispered. “Don’t trust them.” Then he turned and walked away, disappearing into the crowd.
The guards ushered Caius onto the train and through the cabin. The ultra-sleek, gleaming steel and chrome outer appearance of the train contrasted with the luxurious, classical look on the inside. The train cars were beautifully decorated with plush furniture, rich wood paneling, and soothing lamps. Sitting behind an intricately carved wooden desk with legs sculpted to look like roaring lions, the train’s single occupant sat in a stout velvet chair. He wore spindly gold-rimmed reading glasses that framed a slightly chubby but friendly face. His formal robes, impeccably clean and white, stuck out slightly over his paunchy belly. His hair was a bushy mane of grey; only his thick beard retained some flecks of black.
“Good morning, Caius,” the man said with a friendly smile. He stood from his seat and clicked off the small tablet computer that he’d been studying. Caius snapped his heels together and saluted, not sure exactly who he was speaking with.
“No need for that, son. I’m not in the military.” He extended a hand warmly. “I’m Marcus Geganius. Your Advocate.”