Despite their promise to each other, the news of what happened that night soon spread amongst the forces of Imagawa, reaching even the ears of the higher ups, but deftly kept hidden in secret from the man himself.
"Why do we not just charge forth, and slay them all this instance?" Imagawa complained, trying a practise swing with his katana, rendering himself off balance.
"That is the wise thing to do, my Lord, but first we must prepare our forces for campaign, despite the loss of Matsudaira's men."
"His men served no purpose regardless!"
"As you say, my Lord. We can clean up these impudent rebels as the first act of our campaign, as we are setting out. To do it any other way would slow our departure."
"Yes, yes." The rotund Daimyo intoned childishly. It was his impatience that had forced them into this state. With the fall of Matsudaira, most sensible men lacked confidence in their chances of victory, and knew that this campaign would likely just be a waste of time, before they were forced to come back once more.
They had tried to insist on waiting a time longer, and attempting to recruit yet more men, but that suggestion had been immediately overruled by their grand lord.
Leaving the room – when he was quite sure Imagawa was out of earshot – the advisor could not help but sigh, resting his shoulders wearily against the wall. The morale of the men was difficult to judge. Most laughed off this talk of 'Zenok' but the few that had seen it swore by its authenticity.
To their eyes, it seemed more likely that the supernatural had involved itself than a force of eight thousand men – led by Matsudaira – falling to a mere five hundred.
It seemed, the way things were going, that this small force camped outside their walls would genuinely cause them some amount of bother. Perhaps it might even be better if they did. If they caused a deep enough wound that their journey into Oda territory was impossible, it would save time in the long run, and at least he would still be able to enjoy the comforts of home.
The weather had turned, and with it, the fruit of Imagawa was beginning to rot. He had wormed his way inside years before, working his way up the ranks, dreaming of great power. He was far from willing to give up his life as it crumbled around him. Before then, he would make sure to get out.
"That's mere speculation, anyway." He told himself, as he jumped to rather outlandish conclusions. Just because they had lost twice in recent times did not mean the clan was destined for continued failure. It was possible – if Imagawa's underlings worked hard – that they would be able to regain what they had lost.
'Tonight,' he decided, 'I will go out upon the walls, casually, and I will observe this enemy encampment, to see if there is any truth to the outlandish words of those guardsmen, and then, I will make a choice.'
As they fretted inside the castle of Shigeto, production of the sh.i.p.s continued, and they were making very steady progress indeed. Between them, they had managed to construct four thus far, which was certainly not enough to support the eternity of their army, but it was respectable progress nonetheless.
The men were made to spend the majority of the day engaging in even harsher training, with the lack of marching required, despite the hangovers that haunted them from the previous night. Their sweat did not fall with too much regret though, as news had begun to spread of their leader's intentions this evening.
Once more, it seemed, they would engage in crazed worship of their god, Zenok, and enjoy a jolly good time in the process. The truest epitome of turning one's work into their play.
Gengyo, for his part, was an apparent enigma in how he viewed their progress to be. He merely continued to smile and shrug as he was assailed with questions, not even committing to one plan over another in his own mind. He would only make a decision after testing to see how things seemed to feel.
That evening's party soon began, and they danced around the fire with even more enthusiasm than the previous night, no longer self-conscious about their antics. They indulged themselves in as much food and alcohol as they were severed, well aware – after being told before hand – that their audience tonight would be much greater than the night's previous.
"Are you sure this will really work?" Matsudaira questioned as he stood beside Gengyo, not exactly doubtful, but a little unsure. He was not quite certain he knew what Gengyo was aiming for, as it seemed to be something beyond making them question their sanity.
"Oh, probably." Gengyo replied mildly, hoping that those atop the walls were satisfied with the view that they were being granted. "Shall we kick it off, then? What do you think we should ask of Zenok tonight, since he has already guaranteed our victory?"
Still dissatisfied with the answer he was being given, Matsudaira shook his head, reassuring himself that all would come to light in future – he had merely need play the observer here, without predicting, so that he would understand how the man operated and be able to make such judgements in future. "…Probably just praise him?"
"A fine idea." Gengyo nodded with approval, before clearing his throat, and shouting across to his people.
"PREPARE THE OFFERINGS FOR OUR LORD ZENOK, SO THAT WE MIGHT GRACIOUSLY THANK HIM FOR HIS GUIDANCE."
At his words, they began to take some of the food and drink, and cast it into the fire, still dancing maniacally.
There was indeed a sizeable amount of men atop the walls of Shigeto, with many choosing to forsake sleep – despite not being on guard duty – just to bear witness to the sight that those on guard duty had witnessed the night before.
"They are certainly an odd people." One of the higher-ranking men commented, his arms folded, observing the unfoldings calmly, not believing for a single minute that there was anything supernatural about the dealings.
"That would be to put it lightly. They have an odd piety to them." Another man of similar standing replied with a yawn, his eyes watering from the sleepiness, as relaxed as his peers.
And then their moment of tranquillity was interrupted by a voice so loud that it physically forced them to take a step back.
YOUR OFFERINGS ARE SATISFACTORY, MY CHILDREN OF FIRE. YOU HAVE WON MY FAVOUR. DO BATTLE ON THIS EVE TOMORROW, UNDER THE COVER OF DARKNESS, AND MY POWER WILL DESCEND UPON YOU. HEED MY INSTRUCTION, AND YOU WILL WEAR THE AURA OF MY FLAME WITHOUT PAIN!
"PRAISE BE TO ZENOK!" Gengyo lead.
"PRAISE BE TO ZENOK!" The rest repeated, casting their hands up into the air, leaving quite the startling impression amongst the enemy forces.
"Will we…?" Matsudaira began – the rest of the question did not need to be spoken.
"We are servants of Zenok, are we not? To ignore his guidance would be disloyal." Came the simple reply.
Just as the lesser ranking men had the night before, so too did the higher ups. Their faces went a similar shade of white, as almost a quarter of the army felt their fear reach deep with its long icy fingers, and chill their bones.
"Imagawa can not know." One his closest advisors said at once, struggling to keep his voice level.
"Nor Okabe – not the truth. Allow him to believe the rumour. If he witnesses what we have, and believes it, then we will not stand a chance! Fear will grip us all, and we will be overrun, and by such a pathetic number."
"Matsudaira was-"
"Don't mention his name – he was a different breed to us. Far too arrogant. He got what he deserved, as all must. We will not suffer the same fate."
"…I understand. Do you think Oda will accept our services if Imagawa truly does fall the day hence?"
"No. Not Oda – he values loyalty far too much. If he were to find out we ran, then our heads would be severed before we had the chance to defend ourselves. No, we are far better putting our lives in the hands of the Takeda. He has been eying the Imagawa lands for years – he will move in to claim them in the name of revenge, I predict."
"I see… I will prepare my family to depart, in the event that this Zenok truly does show himself."
"As will I – it's the sensible thing to do. Any man that does not take those actions to conserve his life can not be called honourable, but instead foolish. There is nothing virtuous about death. About having your boules loosen on you, and dying in a sea of your own shit."
"Wiser words have rarely been spoken." He agreed.