The Apothecary Diaries Book 11

The Strategist Takes Command

Amid the blood, Rikuson stood ruminating on the past.

The current administrative building was within the Yi clan mansion; in fact, for his office, Gyoku-ou had chosen the very room that Rikuson's mother had once used.

He lay stabbed to death in the place where he had committed that outrage seventeen years ago. It was almost too perfect.

Rikuson had returned to the western capital on Gyokuen's orders, but when he had discovered that his immediate superior would be the one man he remembered more clearly than any other, he thought he might go mad. He had endured, however, so that he might honor his sister's last words. When Gyoku-ou had asked him if he was part of the La clan, Rikuson had gone beyond anger; he found all he could do was laugh. The man he could never forget, it turned out, didn't remember him at all.

This was the man that Gyokuen had raised as his son, for all his flaws. He might not have a blood connection to his father, but he had the talent to help the western lands grow and be great. Perhaps the only thing to truly regret about him was his sense of inferiority. The realization that he was not Gyokuen's true child had twisted him.

He had sought, not to make the western lands great, nor to protect them, but to use them as a means of attacking Shaoh. Perhaps he wanted to eradicate the source of his own blood.

That, Rikuson could not overlook.

The stage was too perfect, like it had been set for him.

Rikuson drew out the knife and knelt next to the man Gyoku-ou had killed.

People came rushing in. "What's going on in here?" one said. Then they saw the bloodstained floor and Rikuson with the two bodies.

"Wh-What in the world is this, Master Rikuson?!" Gyoku-ou's aide asked. The others with him started chattering noisily. One lady-in-waiting gave a shriek.

"It is as you see," Rikuson said. "When I entered, he was already dead. I simply found an opportunity to take the knife and killed the traitor in return. It was all I could do."

"Is this true?" the aide said, eyeing him. Indeed, everyone looked at Rikuson suspiciously.

Of course. It was only natural for them to suspect him. Everyone there knew that Rikuson had been received with little hospitality, and they knew it was possible he was not to be trusted. He would have to play this very, very carefully.

Or, no. Perhaps it would be better to be buried in the same place as his mother and older sister...

The thoughts were hardly through his head when someone said, "He was already murdered when you entered the room. So you killed the rebel—is that not right?"

It was, of all people, Lakan standing there. He looked half asleep and wasn't even wearing his monocle. Weren't they in the middle of a state ceremony? What was he doing here?

"Master Lakan. What happened to the ceremony?"

"I was sleepy, so I ducked out."

Ah, Rikuson thought, it was all over now. There was no hiding anything from Lakan. He had neither good intentions nor bad, but would simply lay out the facts. Rikuson gripped the knife: if he was found out here, it would allow him to die in the same place as his mother and sister.

"You heard the man," Lakan said to those around them.

"Wh-What do you mean, Grand Commandant Kan?"

"Hrm? He's telling the truth. He killed the rebel who killed the man. Where's the crime in that? If anything, this is all your fault for leaving such scant security."