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Spin-off Story: The People's Daimyo - Part 1: The Lady in the Moonlight
The palace gardens were quiet that night. The moon floated high above the tiled rooftops of the Daimyo's compound, pale and sharp against the deep blue sky.
The scent of night jasmine drifted through the air, brushing against the edge of a warm summer breeze. Crickets chirped along the stone walls. Beyond them, the capital slept.
George walked slowly beside the Princess, hands folded behind his back. He didn't wear armor tonight. No regal robes either.
Just a simple black tunic, high collar, the kind that kept the chill off but didn't scream for attention.
The Princess wore silk. Dark maroon with a silver sash. Hair pinned up with care, though loose strands framed her face.
She had the kind of beauty that never begged to be noticed but always was. She kept her gaze on the moonlit path ahead.
"You're quiet," she said after a while.
George nodded. "I like it here."
She glanced at him. "The gardens? Or the silence?"
"Both."
They walked past a koi pond, the surface still and glassy. A few orange fins shimmered beneath it.
"People say you're ruthless," she said.
George raised a brow. "That's true."
"And yet here you are, walking in the garden, talking about silence like a poet."
He chuckled under his breath. "Would you prefer a speech on tax reform?"
She smiled faintly. "No. I hear enough of those from the ministers."
They paused near a stone lantern. George glanced at her. "You don't trust me."
"I don't know you."
"Fair."
A breeze passed between them. For a moment, neither spoke.
She looked up at him again. "Why take the title of Daimyo? You don't seem to care for ceremony. You barely show up at the council. The nobles think you despise them."
"I do," George said plainly. "Most of them, at least. They've bled this land dry for decades, while pretending to wear honor like a medal."
She didn't flinch. "And what do you wear?"
He turned to her fully now. His expression wasn't cold, but it wasn't soft either. Just real.
"Power. But not for power's sake. I'm not here to build a throne. I'm here to build something that survives me."
The Princess studied his face. Her voice was quieter now. "And where do I fit into that?"
George looked back toward the garden path. "Where do you want to fit in?"
That made her pause.
"You could've married into the court. Picked someone who would play the game. Smile at dinner and stay quiet when told."
"And live a life waiting for someone else to decide what matters?"
"That's what most people do."
She let that sit in the air. The sound of the crickets filled the silence again.
"My father was a kind man," she said at last. "Weak, maybe. But kind at least by the standards of this place. He believed diplomacy could fix anything."
George said nothing.
"When he died—when my brother died too, both in the same storm—it felt too clean. Lightning, they said. A temple accident. But I know better. The sky doesn't strike twice unless someone gives it reason."
George remained still. His eyes didn't move from the path ahead.
"I don't have proof. Just the feeling that someone helped nature along that night."
Still, no reply. Just wind.
"And then, not long after, I'm married off to a man the court barely understands. Rich, feared, admired by some... but not one of them."
George finally turned his head. "And do you think I forced your father's hand?"
She gave a slight shrug. "Maybe not forced. But you didn't say no."
He looked back toward the garden wall.
"No. I didn't."
A moment passed. The crickets chirped louder now.
"He thought he was being clever," she said. "Marrying me off to you to silence the clans, to stop the flood of suitors trying to get their hands on a title. Maybe he thought you'd keep me safe. Maybe he thought he'd gain more by giving me away than keeping me."
"Maybe," George said.
"But don't mistake that for kindness. He used me like any merchant uses a coin. And now I wonder if you're any different."
George didn't react. He let the words sit.
Then, finally, he said, "You think I married you for leverage."
"I know you didn't do it for love."
He nodded slowly. "True. But I didn't do it for the court, either. I did it to protect what I'm building. And I thought you deserved better than becoming a pawn for some lesser lord's ambition."
She tilted her head. "So you made yourself the only bidder."
He looked at her then—not with regret, but with clarity. "Yes."
They walked again, slower now.
Past a cherry tree just beginning to bud. Past stone steps older than either of them.
Finally, the Princess stopped.
"You asked where I want to fit."
George turned toward her.
"I don't want to be a symbol," she said. "Not just someone who sits beside the Daimyo for pictures. If I'm part of this future you're building, then let me be part of it. For real."
He considered that.
"And if it gets ugly? If the nobles turn? If war comes?"
"Then I stand beside you. Or ahead of you, if I must."
George nodded. Just once.
"Alright. We build it together."
And in that moonlit garden, without any ceremony or crown, a promise was made.
Not a royal vow.
Just two people. One country. One path forward.
[End of Part 1. Part 2 - "Whispers in the Court" - Coming Next]