Camp Kessoku

"Yoso, there it is!"

The warrior answered the call, joining her friend at the ship's port handrail. "I don't see anything. Where are you looking?"

"There," Tsubo leaned over and pointed along Yoso's line of sight. "See? Where the terrain shifts."

Yoso's eye's skipped along the shoreline to the landmark described by her ally. She certainly saw the point where the lush greens of the Myre gave way to the dusty browns of Ashfeld, but from this far away, large swathes of colour were the finest details she could see.

"I think you are joking with me. Surely your eyes are not so powerful as to see the Camp from here."

"No, you oaf," Tsubo said incredulously. "Of course I do not see the Camp itself. I am saying that we are close enough that we can see where the Camp is."

"What is so special about that? We are going to be able to see exactly that much for the next hour!" Her disappointment turned to irritation at her friend's generalisation.

"Don't be so short with your temper." Tsubo's mood had sunk to match that of their compatriot. "If you are going to be this hostile, then it might just be unwise to bring you at all."

"Bah!" Yoso said dismissively. "If the foreigners are as foolish as you then we'd be better off saving ourselves the trouble."

"That is a decision for your Empress, not for you."

Yoso and Tsubo whirled around to face the speaker. Daimyo Tadasada stood in the middle of the deck with his arms folded in a foreboding stance. His eminence was not the first Samurai dignitary dispatched to the Camp and it was unlikely that he would be the last. By now, most with any sense to them knew that the presence of the likes of Tadasada in the Camp was as much about participating in the exchange as it was about representing and reporting back to the Empress. Yoso and Tsubo were two out of a handful of midranking individuals sent as a retinue for the daimyo.

"Of course, your reverence," Tsubo responded. They and Yoso gave swift yet appropriate bows. "You are wiser than to think that we meant any dismissal to the will of Her Greatness."

"Yes, yes I know that you meant no disrespect." Tadasada's tone was understanding. "My concern however, is that you be doubly mindful of your words when we are in the company of these foreigners. It will not due to inspire rumours of weak leaders and disloyalty."

"Are relations in the Camp that tenuous?" Yoso inquired.

"I doubt that I know any more than you do." Tadasada joined them, leaning on the handrail to survey the coast. "This is my first visit to the Camp too. We may pass judgement upon these Vikings and Knights in time, but until then we will greet them with one hand without taking the other off our hilt."

It was minutes before midday when their ship reached the harbour. Other ships sat moored there, many of them bigger. It looked as though they were mostly cargo vessels. Building materials and food were removed from the carriers, not passengers. It was quite novel to see the watercraft of differing nations all in one place without any of them being shattered or scorched.

Yoso, Tsubo, and the others followed Tadasada down the gangplank - their things carried by subordinates. At the end of the pier, they were met by a trio comprised of one person from each nation.

"Camp Kessoku offers you its warmest welcome," said a Viking woman on the smaller side.

"Daimyo Tadasada, we are honoured to share your company." A heavyset Samurai led the trio in a bow of greetings.

“I speak for Ashfeld when I say that your safe arrival inspires peace in our hearts,” spoke the final man.

The pleasantries carried on, leaving Yoso to trail off in her mind. Her attention turned to the structures around them. In a place so far from her home, and so full of strange people with stranger ways, she found it comforting to be surrounded by the architectural stylings of her nation. Despite this outward appearance though, the Camp was a three-way collaboration between the peoples of the Myre, Valkenheim, and Ashfeld.

Seven years of war had seen the nations ravage one another in the wake of the of the menace Apollyon at the hands of the Emperor’s Champion. Seven years of obligatory suffering and only now was peace being realised. Following the concord between Empress Ayu, Jarl Stigandr, and Holden Cross, an idea was proposed - a camp.

A project both structural and social in nature, the Camp was to be one of the first footholds toward lasting harmony between the nations. Situated at the crux between the lands, it was built to be a place where those unconvinced of the prospect of peace could spend time among the very people they held disdain for. A volatile venture, to be sure, but those entrusted with leading their countrymen had deemed the risk worthy and manageable, so long as the antagonistic remained diluted among the agreeable.

Just as the building of trust was ongoing, so too was the building of the camp. And just like the trust building, the construction was an international effort. Feeding the labourers as well as planning, engineering, and design were the responsibility of the Myre. Few of the structures were complete, but even this early it was clear that their architectural prowess had not been lost in the warfare. Ashfeld could offer machines and labour. Their mechanical proficiency and manpower would see the designs to life. While capable, the people of Valkenheim were less eager about the toils of construction. A solution was found when a revolutionary discovery was made - falling a tree was remarkably similar to downing an especially stubborn foe; and the muscles used to split a helmet over an enemy's skull, could also be used to mine iron ore. And thus, it was settled that the Vikings would source the raw materials for the camp. Additionally, they were kind enough to contribute finances to the project - an act that was certainly a product of their own volition and definitely not a measured political move toward making amends for any Great Raids that may have occurred prior. It turns out that nine years is not, in fact, long enough for people to forget about the sacking of a city.

Yoso's mind returned to the moment when the group started moving. Their welcoming party intended to host a tour while the attendants delivered their belongings to their quarters. They began with the harbour since they were already there. It was of considerable size to be sure, but none were claiming it to be the biggest in the world. Hoists stood high over the ships, ready to ease the work of moving goods. Next were the training grounds. With so many combatants in one place, it was only fitting that this be the single largest use of outdoor space on the grounds. Following that was the garden, the next largest occupant of the Camp. It was a tranquil place that inspired awe with its beauty. The best of all three nations' landscaping was on display here, with blossoms and reflecting pools galore. After that, they were shown the dining hall. Yoso had never seen such a vast single space for taking meals. Again, styles were blended with long tables here and low tables there. She could already imagine the noise such a place would produce. Perhaps that was why the ceiling looked high enough to contain clouds. Before concluding the tour, they stopped to visit the bathing house. Baths, steam rooms, massage chambers, and even showers were available to them. The luxury here made it seem rather unlikely that all of the facilities would be available to the guests of lower social standing. Last to be viewed were the resting chambers. Whereas almost every other component of the camp was deliberately designed to incorporate elements from multiple cultures, the bedchambers were segregated by design.

Personally, Yoso was relieved to find her suite reflective of the styling of her home. Per her class among the Samurai, she was provided a residence with a small living room, a washroom, and a bedroom. It was not a residence she would tolerate in her native land, but she had lowered her expectations on the way here. It was doubtless that Tadasada would enjoy a finer room; it was only right. She breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of her bed. She had feared that she would be confined to whatever pile of hay these barbarians thought fit for resting.

Opening the window in her bedroom, Yoso sat herself upon the sill. The view from her room was quite nice. The angle enabled her to see the portion of the training grounds that sat beside her building, as well as the harbour below in the distance.

"Hello to you, stranger."

The unanticipated voice caused Yoso to flinch. Her hand flicked to the hilt of the katana she carried for travel. Before she followed through with drawing it, she placed the voice. A man was now hanging from the eaves outside her window, inverted. Yoso was not certain how he managed to remain there, seeing as his arms dangled free below his head and everything north of his waistline was unsupported by the eaves. He looked like a Viking warrior - a medium sized man with a fair complexion and brown hair that peeked from beneath a cap. What set him apart from his fellow nationals was how short his beard was. Yoso had rarely seen a man from Valkenheim whose facial hair did not meet his own chest, and now this one came along with something just long enough to not be considered stubble.

"My name is Vilji. Whom do I have the pleasure of making the acquaintance of?"

"Yoso..." she answered cautiously. She allowed her hand to fall from her weapon. The eccentric nature of the man's appearance cast doubt on the possibility of him having malicious intentions. "How are you holding yourself up?"

"I am hanging," he answered thoroughly. "I have come to you to trade. Do you have any armour you would be willing to part with?"

"No," Yoso responded after a moment's hesitation. She was not getting a sinister impression of the man, but with the lack of information available to her, she had the right to maintain her guard.

"Hm," Vilji grunted, disappointed, but not upset. "I will find you at a better time to check again. Farewell." Vilji hoisted himself back up and out of sight.

Yoso leaned out her window, hoping to glimpse his departure. It was in vain though - she did not even hear the sound of retreating footfalls over the roof.

These foreigners are a suitably outlandish bunch, she thought.