The great hall of the Takeda estate was vast, its polished cedar floors gleaming in the morning light that filtered through latticed windows. Incense drifted faintly in the air, masking the scent of oil and iron that clung to the samurai armor lining the walls. Banners bearing the Takeda crest—four diamonds forming a cross—hung proudly above the dais where Lord Takeda Harunobu himself sat.
Eugene walked forward slowly, each step measured. Behind him trailed Hiroshi, his newly sworn retainer, and two other officers who had survived the Ishikawa ambush. The heavy silence pressed upon them like a mountain. Rows of retainers and generals lined either side of the hall, their stern gazes fixed upon the young commander.
At seventeen, Eugene cut a striking figure: tall for his age, posture upright, eyes sharp with intelligence far beyond his years. His armor bore scratches and dried blood from the battle, his katana still hanging at his waist. He neither hid the marks of combat nor sought to embellish them. To him, they were proof.
Lord Takeda's gaze was heavy, unreadable as he studied his son. "So," he said at last, his voice deep and resonant, "you return from your first command alive. Speak, Eugene. Tell us of this battle."
Eugene knelt and bowed deeply, his forehead touching the polished wood. "Father, I led five hundred men into the valley against the Ishikawa force. They numbered near four hundred. Using the terrain and concealed traps, we broke their formation. Their losses numbered nearly three hundred dead, sixty-seven captured. Our own casualties… twenty-three."
Murmurs rippled through the hall. Generals exchanged astonished glances. A victory so decisive, with so few losses, was rare.
Eugene continued, his voice steady. "We cut down their vanguard, broke their cavalry wedge, and scattered the survivors into the forests. The Ishikawa will not recover soon. Their pride is wounded, their morale shattered."
Lord Harunobu leaned forward slightly, his eyes narrowing. "And what of your own conduct? Did you stand at the rear, directing as a lord's son should? Or…"
"I stood at the front," Eugene said without hesitation. His voice rang clear, neither boastful nor ashamed. "I fought alongside my men. When our line faltered, I struck where needed. When Hiroshi was nearly slain, I intervened and took the enemy's head myself."
Hiroshi, still kneeling behind, bowed lower. "It is true, my lord. I owe my life to him. From that day, I swore myself as his retainer. His courage binds our loyalty."
The murmurs grew louder now, swelling like waves against rock. Some were impressed, others skeptical.
One of the senior generals, Lord Okabe, a man with graying hair and a scarred cheek, stepped forward with a frown. "My lord, while the boy has indeed achieved victory, is it wise for him to risk his life so recklessly? He is not a common samurai but your heir. If he falls in some forest ambush, what becomes of the clan?"
Another retainer, Lord Sanada, smirked. "And yet, had he hidden behind his men, you would call him coward. Which is it, Lord Okabe? I, for one, see promise. The men will follow one who shares their blood and sweat."
The hall split in whispers—admiration from some, unease from others. Envy lingered in the sharp glances cast Eugene's way.
Eugene himself remained silent, watching the currents of power flow. So this is the battlefield of politics, he thought. Perhaps more dangerous than swords.
[Analysis: Division detected among senior retainers. Some recognize your potential, others perceive threat to their influence. Recommendation: demonstrate humility while reinforcing competence. Gain your father's public approval—this will shield you.]
Eugene lowered his head. "I do not claim perfection, only duty. The Takeda banner flew high because every man fought bravely, not I alone. If mistakes were made, they are mine to bear. If victories were won, they belong to the clan."
His words echoed in the chamber, and the murmurs softened.
Lord Harunobu's stern gaze lingered on his son. Slowly, he rose to his feet. His presence filled the hall, his voice like steel.
"Enough. What matters is not whether Eugene risked himself, but whether the Takeda prosper. He has returned with victory, with captives, and with fewer losses than any of you predicted. He has proven his blood is not wasted."
The lord's words struck like a hammer. Heads bowed low. Even Lord Okabe said no more.
Then Harunobu descended from the dais, his steps measured. He stopped before Eugene, looking down at his kneeling son. For a long moment, silence hung heavy.
Finally, the warlord's hand rested on Eugene's shoulder. "Rise, my son."
Eugene obeyed, standing tall.
Harunobu's eyes gleamed with a rare pride. "You have taken your first step as a commander. You have drawn blood and earned loyalty. This clan will one day rest upon your shoulders, and already I see you may bear it well."
Applause echoed in the hall, cautious at first, then stronger. Some clapped with sincerity, others with veiled resentment, but none dared oppose the lord's declaration.
That evening, after the formalities ended, Harunobu called Eugene privately into his study. The room was smaller, lined with scrolls of war strategy, maps of provinces, and ink-stained brushes. A brazier burned softly, casting warm light.
The lord poured two cups of sake, setting one before his son. "You impressed them today. Even those who envy you cannot deny what you achieved."
Eugene accepted the cup respectfully. "It was not without risk. But the men fought fiercely because they trusted me."
Harunobu studied him carefully. "You lead differently than I do. You fight among them, not above them. That wins hearts, yes—but hearts can falter. Fear of a lord's wrath binds just as tightly as love of his courage."
Eugene met his father's gaze without flinching. "Then I will bind them with both."
The elder Takeda laughed softly, shaking his head. "You speak boldly for one so young."
Inside, Eugene's AI whispered:
[Father's approval gained. Caution: though he supports you, excessive brilliance may draw suspicion in future. Balance ambition with loyalty to the clan.]
Harunobu set down his cup. "The Ishikawa will not forget this defeat. They will retaliate. I will entrust you with fifty men—your own unit. Test them, train them, mold them. If you succeed, more will follow. If you fail…" His eyes hardened. "The clan does not forgive weakness."
Eugene bowed deeply. "I will not fail."
As he left the study, Hiroshi awaited him in the corridor.
"My lord?" he asked softly.
Eugene smiled faintly. "Our journey begins in truth now. Fifty men—our first command. We will forge them into steel, Hiroshi. And one day, that steel will shape an empire."
Hiroshi's hand tightened on his spear. "Then I shall help hammer that steel until it gleams."
Together, they walked through the estate halls, their shadows long against the lantern light.
The first audience was over. The clan had taken notice. And in the silence of his mind, the AI whispered of futures yet unseen:
[Trajectory confirmed. Today marks the birth of recognition. But beware—the brighter you shine, the darker the shadows that gather.]
Eugene's eyes narrowed. Already, he could feel the weight of rivals' stares, the stirrings of jealousy. Yet none of it deterred him.
Because for Takeda Eugene, this was not merely about surviving the warring states. It was about bending them to his will.
And one day, when the history of Japan was written, this day—the Lord's Audience—would be remembered as the moment the prodigy's legend stepped fully into the light.