The night after the assassins struck, the fortress was restless. Whispers ran like wind through the campfires—rumors of Ishida's treachery, of the blades in the dark, of Eugene's effortless slaughter of shinobi.
But within the half-built stronghold's courtyard, a more solemn gathering took place.
Fifty men stood in a circle, torches lighting their grim faces. They were Eugene's first and truest—peasants forged into warriors, ronin who had found a master, bandits turned to soldiers. They had fought together, bled together, and survived together. Now, Eugene would make them into something greater.
Hiroshi stood at his side, holding a lacquered bowl filled with sake and a dagger.
"Fifty Spears," Eugene began, his voice carrying over the crackling flames. "You stood by me when all others doubted. You faced assassins in the night and did not falter. Tonight, you cease being merely soldiers. Tonight, you become brothers bound not by coin or fear, but by blood."
The men murmured, their eyes fixed on him. Even those who had once doubted now gazed with reverence.
Eugene unsheathed his katana and drew the blade lightly across his palm. Blood welled, dark in the torchlight. He let it drip into the sake bowl.
"This blood is mine," he said. "A lord's blood. A man's blood. I offer it to you, not as master to servant, but as brother to brother. Drink, and carry me in your veins as I carry you in my heart."
He handed the bowl to Hiroshi, who repeated the cut across his own hand. Blood fell into the sake, mixing with Eugene's. Hiroshi's voice was strong.
"I swear to stand by Lord Eugene, through fire, steel, and death. His enemies are my enemies, his cause my cause. Let this blood bind me until the end."
He drank deeply, crimson and sake mingling down his throat.
One by one, the Fifty Spears followed. Each cut their palm, each let their blood drip into the bowl, each spoke their vow before drinking.
"I swear to Lord Eugene…""I swear until my last breath…""I swear until my blade shatters and my bones are dust…"
The ritual became a rhythm—steel, blood, vow, drink. With every oath spoken, the air grew heavier, charged with something deeper than mere ceremony.
When the last man finished, Hiroshi held the bowl once more. Its contents were thick and dark, the blood of fifty-one men bound together. He raised it toward Eugene.
"My lord. The Spears are yours."
Eugene accepted the bowl. The AI whispered in his mind:
[Historical reference: Blood oaths common among warrior bands. Symbolic act increases cohesion, morale, and loyalty. Estimated loyalty threshold of Fifty Spears: 95%. Probability of desertion: negligible.]
Eugene drank, the metallic taste of blood mingling with sake as it burned down his throat. He lowered the bowl, voice steady as iron.
"From this day, you are no longer nameless men. You are my clan. My brothers. When history remembers me, it will remember you. You are the Fifty Spears of Eugene!"
A roar erupted. Fifty voices thundered into the night, spears raised high, their cry shaking the fortress walls.
"Fifty Spears! Fifty Spears! Fifty Spears!"
The sound carried through the valley like a war drum, echoing across mountains. Villagers woke from their sleep, bandits in the hills shivered, and even in Kai Castle, Takeda's retainers muttered of the strange new power rising in the west.
Later, when the flames burned low and the men dispersed, Hiroshi lingered beside his lord.
"They would die for you now," he said. "No coin, no lord in Kai could turn them."
Eugene gazed at the stars, his expression unreadable. "Good. Because soon, I will ask them to face more than assassins in the dark. Ishida will not stop. And when he strikes again, it will not be with whispers or shadows—it will be with armies."
Hiroshi's grip tightened on his spear. "Then let him come. Fifty Spears stand between you and death."
The AI hummed softly.
[Clan foundation complete. Loyalty secured. Projected military strength: moderate. Next objective: expansion of fortress, recruitment of additional units, preparation for open conflict.]
Eugene's hand clenched into a fist.
From fifty, we will become five hundred. From five hundred, five thousand. Until one day, all of Japan marches under my banner.
And that night, the legend of the Fifty Spears of Eugene was born.