The charred scent of the raid lingered for days, though the fortress stood firm. Eugene knew Ishida would not stop. A beaten foe often reached for subtler weapons—and in Takeda's court, the sharpest blades were not forged of steel, but of words.
Kai Castle's great hall was filled with lords, generals, and retainers, banners swaying in the spring breeze. At the dais sat Lord Takeda, sharp-eyed and regal, his crimson armor gleaming even in repose.
General Ishida strode forward, bowing low but speaking loudly, his words soaked in venom.
"My lord, grave tidings reach me. While you command us to defend Kai, young Eugene builds armies of peasants and ronin in secret valleys. He stockpiles grain, raises walls, and hides forges. Tell me, does this sound like loyalty—or rebellion?"
A ripple of murmurs spread. Several generals nodded, their envy echoing Ishida's words. Others glanced uneasily toward Eugene, who stood calm among his Fifty Spears, cloak draped over his shoulders like a mantle of shadow.
Takeda's gaze shifted, sharp as a hawk's. "Eugene. Speak. What truth lies in this accusation?"
Eugene stepped forward. His bow was precise, respectful, but his voice carried steel.
"My lord, every man I gather was once a bandit, a starving peasant, or a discarded ashigaru. I forged them into soldiers not for my own throne, but for yours. The fortress we build is no palace, but a shield—its spears pointed outward to guard Kai's borders.
Would Ishida prefer these men remain wolves in the hills, preying upon your people? Or is it my fault that his blade slays only enemies in council halls and never those on the battlefield?"
A hush fell. The sting of his words drew smirks from some, frowns from others. Ishida's jaw clenched, his pride struck.
"You twist truth like a serpent," Ishida spat. "Do you deny then, that you keep your own banner? That men cry 'For Lord Eugene!' when they fight?"
Eugene's eyes narrowed slightly. "Men fight best when they believe in their commander. If loyalty to me strengthens their loyalty to you, is that not a gift, my lord?"
Takeda leaned back, stroking his beard. His silence weighed heavier than any accusation. Finally, his deep voice rumbled:
"Ishida, you see shadows where there may be none. Eugene's victories bring strength to Kai. To cast aside such talent for fear alone is folly."
"My lord—!" Ishida began, but Takeda's hand rose.
"Enough. I will not see discord in my house. Eugene remains my Hatamoto. His fortress shall stand, so long as his blade cuts only my enemies."
The decision was final. The hall bowed.
Yet Ishida's glare burned across the chamber, promising vengeance.
That night, in his private chambers, Eugene sat cross-legged as Hiroshi reported.
"My lord, Ishida spreads whispers still. He calls you traitor in taverns, says your fortress is a crown waiting to be seized. Some believe him."
Eugene poured sake into his cup, sipping slowly. "Let them. Words are like arrows: dangerous when aimed true, harmless when they strike air. For now, Ishida's lies cannot pierce Takeda's trust."
The AI whispered in his mind.
[Assessment: Political hostility rising. Probability of further slander campaigns: 93%. Recommendation: strengthen alliances within Takeda's court. Seek patronage from neutral or sympathetic generals.]
Eugene's gaze hardened. Yes. If Ishida weaves webs, then I will weave my own. Allies will shield me until my fortress grows strong enough that no words, no armies, can tear it down.
Days later, Eugene began his quiet countermove.
He visited General Matsunaga, a cautious but pragmatic man known for valuing results over pride. He spoke of border raids suppressed by his hidden garrison, of villages secured, of taxes that now flowed more steadily into Takeda's coffers.
Matsunaga, swayed by logic and numbers, agreed to lend his support in court.
He visited Lady Ayame, Takeda's younger sister, known for her keen political sense. To her, Eugene gifted fine silk and promised that her villages would always have first protection from raids. She, too, whispered in his favor.
Piece by piece, the web shifted. Ishida's lies, once venom, began to lose their sting.
One evening, Hiroshi found Eugene gazing at the valley map by lamplight.
"You play their game well, my lord," Hiroshi said. "But politics is poison. Steel is simpler."
Eugene smiled faintly. "Steel kills a man. Words kill a hundred. Until my fortress is unassailable, I must wield both."
The AI's voice confirmed:
[Progress: Eugene's political allies increased. Risk of immediate downfall reduced. Fortress construction: 48% complete. Total troops under Eugene's shadow command: 312.]
Eugene closed his eyes, listening to the whisper of the AI and the beating of his own heart. Let Ishida weave lies. I will weave armies. And when both nets are cast… mine will strangle him first.
The storm in Kai had not passed. It had only begun to gather.