Jikei had liked Ko from the moment he met him. He was clever, brave, and quick-witted. With that intelligence came a certain brazen-faced impudence, but to Jikei, that just made him even more fun to chat with.
Ko was the second son of the head of the Saname clan—and as such, it was obvious why he’d come to the Northern Mountains—but that didn’t mean Saname Choyo’s coldness disgusted Jikei any less.
How dare he do such a thing to his own son…
He’d effectively sent his son to die. Jikei could feel it in his gut. Only Choyo would choose his own son over a stranger for such a role. Through Ko, he could see what sort of man the Saname clan head was.
Jikei felt terrible for the young man. He shouldn’t have had any reason to listen to his father, considering how awful he was, but perhaps this was just how the Saname clan did things.
From Jikei’s standpoint, there was almost no chance that the tribes of the Northern Mountains were going to stage a major uprising. However, there was a chance that some of them would be inclined to rebel, even if they were just a minority.
The difficult thing was whether that would be enough for Choyo. After all, it wasn’t a rebellion that Choyo wanted. All he wished for was a reason for Jusetsu to be killed. There were many ways to ignite that fire—whether it be identifying those who wanted to rebel and snitching on them or coaxing them into doing something that resembled an uprising.
The distance made the situation even more difficult. If something occurred near the imperial capital, it’d be easy to verify the facts and speak with those involved. The Northern Mountains were instead a considerable distance away. If an incident happened there, everything would take more time. By the time notice of a rebellion reached the imperial capital, it’d be too late to suppress it or assert that it was a misunderstanding.
In all honesty, it would be easier to deal with an uprising that had already been staged. It was near impossible to avoid igniting a fire of any kind—and yet, Jikei couldn’t bear the thought of seeing any young people die in vain, whether it be Jusetsu or Ko.
What am I supposed to do? Jikei thought, wracking his brain for answers.
The gate to the settlement materialized from the snow. As they approached, they noticed there was a pattern designed to ward off evil carved into the gate, but even that had been covered in snow, and it was barely visible. The houses had the same detail. While most of them were just single-building properties, the surface of their intersecting beams had similar patterns to that on the gate carved into them—although the exact pattern varied on each house.
The snow had been neatly cleared away right up to the spot where the chief of the tribe’s residence stood. The people in the settlement were hard at work shoveling the snow, wooden spades in hand.
“Oh, Yozetsu!” Recognizing Jikei, the people called out to him in a friendly, welcoming manner. “Our chief is waiting for you in his residence.”
It seemed Jikei had sent the goods transporter on ahead to inform them he was coming.
“Oh, that doesn’t sound good. Let’s hurry over,” Jikei urged Ko, quickening his pace.
“Is he hard to please?” Ko asked.
“No, far from it. He’s very kind—although the mountain tribes see him quite differently. People assume all the tribes in the mountains are full of ruffians, but here, both the citizens and the chief are gentle and amenable folk.”
“Here…? Do you mean to say that the other tribes are full of ruffians?” asked Ko, reading between the lines.
Jikei laughed. “You’ll have to wait and see for yourself.”
Ko looked slightly disgruntled. He still wasn’t adept at concealing those sorts of emotions, and Jikei found it quite amusing.
I really don’t want to let him die.
Ko was a decent young man with a world full of opportunities awaiting him. How could Jikei make him see that?
The chief of the Yusoku lineage welcomed the two of them inside with a friendly grin. He seemed just as affable as Jikei had painted him out to be, and his smile suggested he was a good-natured person. Upon hearing that he was the most senior member of his lineage, Ko had braced himself to meet someone similar to his father, so this came as somewhat as a relief.
“I’m sure those snowy roads were a challenge for you—it was snowing as recently as last night. Usually, it is a little firmer underfoot.”
The chief of the Yusoku offered them some hot tea, or at least, that was what he called it. The drink had a viscous consistency and was milky-white in color. It had a salty taste with a hint of sweetness, but it also left an unfamiliar greasiness behind in your mouth. Just as Ko was thinking about how peculiar it was, it was revealed that the drink contained yak milk, and in this region, that was what they called tea. It warmed you up and alleviated fatigue.
It was so warm inside this home that it was hard to believe how different it was from the outside. There was a large, earthenware furnace-like structure against the wall, evidently designed to radiate warmth from the fire burning inside it through to the walls and floors. This room was partitioned off using woolen textiles, and animal pelts were layered on top of carpets over the wooden floor.
“I was just thinking about procuring some more salt, and now here you are. I really am grateful, Jikei.”
“No need to thank me. We have a larger surplus than usual this year, so I’ve been dragging this doddery old body of mine around trying to peddle it to potential customers,” Jikei said, laughing jovially.
Although most of his salt was purchased by the government, he was now free to sell any surplus to whoever he wanted. This was a major reason why the salt trade—which had almost collapsed during the reign of the previous emperor—had been revitalized under Koshun’s rule.