Though a minor samurai clan, the Mantis Clan is not to be underestimated. Formed from an alliance of castoffs and ships captains based in Gotei City, the clan’s Storm Fleet controls the waters and trade routes off Rokugan’s coast. As a minor clan, the Mantis can play fast and loose with certain rules, allowing them to deal in goods and luxury wares that other clans cannot.

The Mantis Clan’s Gold Fleet of merchants only recently began plying the waters of the River of Gold, but already the waterway has become a vital source of goods and profit. It’s a somewhat open secret that many of the Mantis’s best sailors learned the ropes as freebooters, but they have become respectable since accepting their wakizashi, the sword that marks them as samurai. When the river pirates led by Bakuchiku endanger the Mantis Clan’s rise, clan leader Yoritomo and his crew seek out the key to his undoing. For the “Son of Storms” knows somewhat about piracy himself, not to mention how to unite a bunch of ragtag captains into a fleet that can compete with the Great Clans.

This is part five of the River of Gold short story series. To find out more about the River of Gold, and how you can influence the outcome of the series, click here, or scroll down to enjoy this episode in your choice of text and audio…

Part 5: The Ambition of the Mantis

by Robert Denton III

Yoritomo was no stranger to a pirate attack’s aftermath, but the damage to the port’s shrine was far worse than he’d imagined. Gone was the lighthouse, collapsing from what appeared to be fire damage. Only smoldering ruin remained where the shrine rooftops once proudly overlooked the banks. Worse, the river was virtually empty of boats today. It seemed many feared an attack from this so-called “pirate prince.”

Amateurs, he thought. Don’t they know not to harvest everything at once?

The doors at the far end of the worship hall yawned open. With his arms tucked into his sleeves, he watched the young woman make her way down the hall, bowing and seating herself before those who were present. She glanced up now and again, seemingly curious about these visitors. He kept his face expressionless. He did not want to intimidate her – at least not yet – nor influence her answers.

The shrine’s priest set aside his tea. Just above him, the afternoon sun shed light into the room from the gaping hole in the ceiling. “Esteemed guests, this is Itsumi. She is one of the shrine keepers who tends to the lighthouse.”

“Or I did,” she said, “Until recently.”

The priest frowned. “None of that, Itsumi. Now tell our guests what you told me this morning.”

She looked up at the newcomers seated around her: five hard-faced individuals, donned in teal and silver silks, their skin tanned from time at sea. “You don’t look like you’re from the Hare Clan,” she remarked.

The warriors exchanged looks.

“These are our, er, other protectors,” the priest said with great patience. “They wish to know what happened during the attack.”

“They didn’t protect much,” came her sour reply.

This one had the bluntness of the islanders back home. It was refreshing, coming from a mainlander. Yoritomo knew that resentful tone well. How many times had he used it himself? Especially that fateful day long ago, the day when salty air stung his nostrils, and the man he’d mistaken for his father plummeted to the rocks and the crashing waves far beneath his feet, like a foaming mouth hungry and wide…

“Itsumi!” the priest reprimanded the young woman. “Have you forgotten your manners?”

She lowered her smoldering eyes. “I was in the lower floor of the lighthouse. Their boats rammed into the barges, and I saw them leap aboard. There was fire and screaming. They launched long arrows that caught fire in the air.”

“Fireworks,” the priest said.

One of the other samurai began writing her account. She paused a moment as if to wait for him to catch up. “Whatever they were, they exploded. And that’s when I heard footsteps downstairs. I didn’t know what to do. So I hid.” Her face reddened as her fists balled tightly. “I just hid while they…”

The priest leaned forward to touch her knee. “It’s all right. Go on.”

“The one who ordered the others, I’d seen him before. In fact, I spoke to him that morning. He said his name was Tāke. I… may have told him about the shipment with the tithe. I didn’t realize…” She shuddered. “It’s my fault, isn’t it? I should be banished from here. I don’t deserve to stay.”

Yoritomo was not accustomed to regret or guilt – he’d long sworn it off – but he remembered a time when similar words came to his lips, and the sword of his family felt so much heavier than it did now. He knew what it was to lose one’s home to treachery. And he’d heard enough.

He rose, signaling for one of his samurai. They unfurled a document with a man’s likeness scrawled on the surface. He held it before her. “Was it this man?”

Her eyes widened. “Yes. That’s him.”

Bakuchiku. The Pirate Prince.

But then, Itsumi froze. Her gaze transfixed on a small symbol at the bottom of the page, a stylized depiction of a praying mantis, its tiny, barbed arms outstretched. She looked up into his face, her mouth dropping open.

“You’re the Son of Storms,” Itsumi breathed.

The captain of the Mantis fleet. Champion of the Mantis Clan.

For now, that was all he was. But soon, he would be much, much more. One day, even the Great Clan Champions would tilt their heads at the Mantis banner.

“That’s enough, Itsumi,” the priest said. “You can go back now.”

It was as if she hadn’t heard him. She seemed to be taking Yoritomo in, as if he were a statue depicting a Fortune. “Is it true you were struck by lightning at the Izuma shrine?”

One of his samurai snickered. A glance stopped it short. But he wasn’t surprised. All of his exploits – that was what everyone asked about. He’d simply have to do something even more impressive, something the mainlanders would never forget.

The priest cleared his throat. “I wish we could tell you more, Son of Storms. At least Itsumi was able to confirm the pirate’s identity.”

Indeed, the girl had been quite helpful. It was not as if the Great Clans bothered to tell him anything, even though there were Mantis Clan goods, some that his people on the faraway Mantis Isles desperately needed, that were also lost to river piracy. But since when had the Great Clans ever noticed the minor samurai families, much less cared about their plights? When had they ever lifted a hand to swat such mosquitos, until they were the ones to suffer a bite?

Well now I have something they need, Yoritomo thought. I have someone who can identify the pirates’ ringleader.

“Itsumi,” Yoritomo said, causing her to jump a little. “You said you witnessed a firework explosion. How is it that you survived?”

As if to demonstrate, Itsumi extended her hand, humming a wordless tune. At first, it seemed as though the sunlight bent to dance around her arm. Then, flames twisted in a coil around her wrist, like a tiny serpent of flame. Just a moment, and then the song ended, and the flame extinguished.

“It is not much,” she admitted. “But the spirits of flame seem to like me. They don’t like for me to be burned.”

“She has an elemental gift,” the priest explained. “And she is being modest. The spirits of flame adore her. She’s always lit the dragon bubble by herself.”

“They took it,” Itsumi suddenly said. “The dragon bubble. Without it, we can’t make offerings. The slumbering river serpent could awaken.”

The world of those with elemental gifts was a mystery to the Son of Storms. His first mate had such a gift, and her dances for the spirits of storms raised the crashing sea as readily as her fingertips could calm it. She – a tide seer – once told him that mortals lived side by side with the invisible elementals who wandered this world, unseen and unnoticed, but as capable of guiding mortals as the Fortunes or one’s own ancestors.

He finally nodded. “I am convinced. Pack whatever you need, Itsumi. We disembark within the hour.” He gestured to the others, who stood and made their way to the exit.

“Wait!” The priest stumbled. “You’re not serious! She can’t possibly–”

Itsumi leapt to her feet. “Yes I can!” She clasped her hands in a gesture of pleading. “Please, this is my fault. I fell for the pirate’s tricks. I need to make things right. I can’t just abandon her.”

Her? Her who?

The priest seemed taken aback by this. Itsumi remained stoic, but her fingers trailed down to a bauble hanging from her neck. She’d touched it only at the word “her.”

One of the hostages, Yoritomo realized. So this was personal, was it? She wanted to rescue her friend, who she believed she had doomed. If she couldn’t rescue her, then she would settle for vengeance.

Then she absolutely had to go, he decided. No one was there long ago to give him such a chance when he wanted it. But he would ensure this shrine keeper would get hers.

She made a determined expression that ill-suited her. “I can fight, if need be.”

“No!” The priest pounded his fists on his knees. “I forbid it! Remember your oaths! If you shed blood, then you can never make another offering here, or else the river serpent will lose control and–”

Yoritomo raised a hand. “Calm down. She won’t have to fight.” He nodded at Itsumi, letting a hint of his newfound respect for her shine through. “All I need is for you to identify him when the time comes. I want to be certain I have the right person.” His eyes darkened. “I will take care of the rest.”

The priest trembled. “What do you intend to do?”

The Son of Storms allowed himself the barest of smiles.

After assigning the young woman her temporary quarters, Yoritomo stood on the deck of his newest river battle yacht. It was smaller than he was accustomed, but even the broad width of the River of Gold would not accommodate his ocean ships. He would have to settle for the island-hoppers, trusting that they could navigate these waters just as readily as the stormy seas.

It seemed he would have to rebuild his Golden Fleet already…

The Great Clans – the Crab, Crane, and Scorpion in particular – had muscled out most of the minor clans when it came to trade along the River of Gold. For generations, the Mantis Clan were confined to the shoreside ports, their fleets never making it any farther inland. There was no sense in lobbying for the right; access to the courts was fully in Great Clan control. With the markets under the thumb of the samurai lords, there was no fair way for the minor clans to compete.

But then, Yoritomo didn’t plan on playing fair, did he?

Until recently, the Mantis had managed to claw their way into the river markets. Exotic goods from the islands – rare silks and spices, pigments and lacquers and jewels – came into high demand. And for those the Great Clans stepped over, Mantis mercenaries offered protection. It had seemed like an easy enough job, until these river pirates decided to escalate things.

Perhaps, if he could bring the so-called pirate prince to heel, he could undermine all of the Great Clans in one fell swoop. If a minor clan accomplished what none of the great ones could…

“My lord,” came Kudaka’s voice as she strode across the deck. She placed her hands behind her back, awaiting his orders.

Yoritomo ran fingers through his short beard. He’d had his eye on this “Bakuchiku” for some time; indeed, he was almost impressed by the man’s ingenuity. He’d been amused by the trouble Bakuchiku caused the Scorpion and Crane. But then they had attacked Mantis vessels, stolen Mantis goods. Yoritomo couldn’t let that stand.

“We are going to rebuild the Golden Fleet,” he said.

“From the river pirates’ boats?”

“That would be ideal.” Yoritomo eyed his first mate. “Bakuchiku is a fool if he thinks he can take on the Great Clans. But perhaps he could be made to see reason. I’ve been thinking that perhaps I’ve gone about this all wrong. Why start a new operation when you can take over an existing one?”

Yes, that could work, he thought. He’d united the Mantis Fleets with less. Folded them into his own, forging his clan into a force to be reckoned with. Perhaps even one that the Great Clans had to respect. Or so he’d soon prove.

And perhaps even Bakuchiku could find a place in the Mantis… if he showed proper humility.

“Unfurl the sails,” he said. “Let’s go hunting.”

River of Gold concludes with the sixth and final part in the story, The River’s End. Learn more and get your copy of River of Gold, the exciting new game in the world of Legend of the Five Rings, here.