𝘛𝘸𝘰 𝘥𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨
The ambush had been swift and silent. Two Mongol scouts returning from patrol, eliminated before they could cry out. Now their armor served a different purpose entirely.
The stolen equipment reeked of blood and fear-sweat. Jin adjusted the leather straps across his chest, trying to find a position where the foreign metal didn't dig into his shoulders. The dead conscript had been roughly his size, but Mongol equipment fit differently—designed for mounted warfare rather than the precise movements of sword combat.
"Stop fidgeting." Katsuo's voice came muffled from beneath his own disguise. The scarred ronin had claimed the larger set of armor, and it hung on his lean frame with practiced ease. "You look like a samurai playing dress-up."
Jin forced his hands to stillness. Katsuo was right—every gesture screamed his discomfort with the deception. The bronze helmet felt foreign against his scalp. The curved saber at his hip balanced wrong compared to his katana's familiar weight.
"How do you do it?" Jin asked quietly as they approached the outpost's outer palisade. "Wear another man's face so easily?"
Katsuo's laugh held bitter amusement. "Three years of exile teaches adaptability. When every door closes in your face, you learn to pick locks."
Two guards flanked the main gate, their attention focused on a dice game scratched into the dirt. Jin's throat tightened as they drew closer. The deception felt like betrayal—not just of his own code, but of the men who'd died wearing these same uniforms in honest service to their Khan.
"Papers," one guard grunted in accented Japanese, not bothering to look up from his throw.
Katsuo produced forged documents with fluid confidence. "Reinforcements from the coastal patrol. Captain Batbayar's orders."
The guard glanced at the seal, then at their faces. Jin held his breath, certain his features would betray his heritage despite the grime and shadows. But the man's eyes passed over him without interest before returning to his game.
"Barracks are full. Find space where you can."
They passed through without challenge. Jin's hands shook slightly as they walked deeper into the compound, but Katsuo moved with the easy swagger of a veteran soldier returning from patrol.
"Breathe," Katsuo murmured. "You look like you're walking to your execution."
"I feel like I am." Jin studied the layout as they moved—guard positions, patrol routes, the central command building where their target would be conducting his treachery. "This goes against everything I was taught."
"Everything you were taught assumed your enemies would fight honorably." Katsuo paused beside a supply wagon, ostensibly checking its contents while actually mapping sight lines to the command building. "Our traitor abandoned honor years ago. Fighting him with traditional methods is suicide."
Jin knew this, but knowledge and acceptance were different things. Every step deeper into the compound felt like walking away from everything his family had stood for. His ancestors would turn their faces in shame.
But his ancestors hadn't faced systematic betrayal from within their own ranks.
A Mongol officer emerged from the command building—tall, weathered, carrying himself with the authority of long experience. Jin recognized him from intelligence reports: Noyan Targutai, overall commander of the invasion force.
"The Mongol commander," Jin whispered.
"Secondary target," Katsuo corrected. "The traitor is the disease. Targutai is just the symptom."
They watched as Targutai conferred with subordinates, pointing at maps spread across campaign tables. Even from this distance, Jin could see the tactical discussions—troop movements, supply lines, civilian populations marked for subjugation.
His people's destruction planned with clinical precision.
"Guard rotation changes at midnight," Katsuo observed, studying the sentries' movements. "Two-man patrols on the outer perimeter. Single guards at internal checkpoints."
Jin forced himself to think tactically despite his moral revulsion. "The command building has four entrances. Main approach is too exposed. Kitchen entrance might work if we can eliminate the cook."
"Kitchen staff work in shifts. Less risk of discovery." Katsuo's professional assessment came without hesitation. "But we need to confirm the Japanese advisor's location first. If he's quartered elsewhere, we're infiltrating the wrong target."
Jin nodded. Their intelligence suggested a Japanese traitor was advising the Mongols, but they hadn't been able to identify him specifically. Tonight would provide that confirmation—and the opportunity to end his treachery.
"There," Katsuo pointed toward the command building. "Japanese dress."
A figure in silk kimono stood in conversation with Targutai near the building's main entrance. Too distant to make out features, but the traditional clothing marked him clearly as their target.
Jin felt his jaw clench. Seeing the traitor in person—watching a Japanese lord discuss strategy with foreign invaders—made the betrayal visceral rather than theoretical.
"Tomorrow night," Katsuo said quietly. "We've seen enough to plan the approach."
"Tonight would be better. Less time for them to change security arrangements."
"Tonight we're tired from the infiltration. Tomorrow we're rested and prepared." Katsuo's scarred features held professional calculation. "Revenge is best served with patience."
Jin studied the other man's profile, noting the tension that corded his shoulders whenever he looked toward the command building. "This is personal for you."
"All war is personal eventually." Katsuo turned away from the building, but his hands remained clenched. "Come. We need to map the interior layout and establish our extraction routes."
They spent the next two hours moving through the compound with practiced stealth. Katsuo's expertise showed in every detail—how he observed guard patterns without seeming to watch, how he identified weak points in the fortification, how he memorized the location of weapons and horses.
Jin found himself reluctantly impressed. Exile had stripped away everything honorable about the scarred warrior, but it had left behind a tool perfectly shaped for necessary work.
"Kitchen entrance confirmed," Katsuo murmured as they completed their reconnaissance. "Single cook on night duty. Service corridor leads directly to the officers' quarters."
"How do we identify the specific room?"
"We don't need to. We follow the voices." Katsuo's smile held sharp edges. "Japanese carries differently than Mongol. We'll find our traitor by his accent."
Jin nodded, though the casual discussion of infiltration made his stomach turn. This was necessary—he understood that intellectually. But understanding didn't make the deception taste less bitter.
"Guard change is in four hours," Jin observed. "We should rest before then."
"Agreed. Find somewhere quiet to sleep. Tomorrow we finish what we came for."
They separated to find rest among the compound's maze of buildings. Jin settled against a supply shed wall, foreign armor creaking with each breath. Above him, stars wheeled through a sky that had witnessed too much bloodshed.
Tomorrow they would confront the traitor face to face.
Tonight, they prepared for war.