Gonji: Red Blade from the East by Rypel T. C

Author:Rypel, T. C. [Rypel, T. C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy, epic fantasy, conan the barbarian, sword and sorcery, samurai
ISBN: 9781434447227
Publisher: Wildside Press
Published: 2013-02-09T18:30:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWELVE

They ate roast pork and fresh rye bread, a variety of boiled vegetables, and a thick sweet pudding for dessert, washing it all down with ale and wine. Gonji fairly glowed after the hearty repast. He felt like breaking out in song—one of his mother’s battle skalds would have done nicely had he not feared his hosts would think him mad.

During the meal Gonji allowed the glow of satisfaction to shine through, but never did he truly lower his guard. He had long since cultivated a wariness of the too facile friendship of peaceful people. Too often it masked contempt. He was much more at ease in the company of warriors, where true feelings surfaced quickly and could be counted on, however hostile.

Among the Gundersens only Wilf wore his emotions like garments, and Gonji found himself warming to the man more readily than to his reserved kin. His hard thews and rough-and-ready exterior belied a spark of genuine, if uncultured, intelligence and a poignant wit. And with amusement Gonji noted in Wilf the buoyant sense of wonder of youth. With capricious ease Wilf shifted from brooding fears for his beloved at the castle, to unreasoning outrage and demands of action against the invaders, to enthusiastic interest in the samurai way of life, the code of bushido, and Gonji’s own experiences in warfare. Gonji smiled to see him wolf down his food in quick snapping bites with hardly a swallow so that he might be ready to speak at all times.

He was a dog. Hai, a powerful German shepherd. Tough and aggressive, always primed to protect the territorial imperative. Probably to be trusted only so far as his own motivations weren’t violated.

It was an object of private amusement to Gonji to characterize people by their analogs in the animal world. Wilfred Gundersen was a mighty canine, but his brother Lorenz—ahhh....

The Executor of the Exchequer brought what seemed an incongruous posturing of elegance to the dinner table in his father’s humble home. He exercised reserve, spoke and ate sparingly, and occasionally appraised the samurai with probing stares and proffered what seemed to Gonji keen observations. Of those who sat at the table, Lorenz alone had changed for dinner, affecting clean flannel breeches, a broad-cut silk shirt, and an ornately brocaded vest, probably Spanish, that seemed to Gonji the apex of decadent frippery, considering their modest surroundings. The others had begun their meal with a popular local guzzling wine, cheap and readily consumed in large quantities. Lorenz, however, had popped a bottle of rare German vintage from which he had offered them each a sample with the arch observation that they would likely find it a bit austere for their palates. Gonji—always anxious to show that he was at least as cultured as any European—was the only one among them to request a second go, although he did indeed find it puckerishly dry.

Lorenz Gundersen. Eldest son. Tall and gaunt, with skin too sallow from years of poring over books and papers while hidden away from the sun.

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