Governor Tanaka Kenji, the newly appointed master of Nagasaki, felt like a ghost haunting the halls of his own life. He wore the fine silk robes of his station, slept in his own bed, and ate from his own porcelain, but none of it was his. It was all a gift from a foreign devil, a gilded cage built from the ashes of his honor. His every move was watched by the silent, unblinking Imperial Guards who stood outside his door. His every word felt like a betrayal. His new purpose in life was to serve the Dragon Emperor, and today, that service would take a new, more insidious turn.
He was holding an audience in the mansion's grand reception hall with a delegation of the city's most prominent merchants. These were men he had known for years, men with whom he had shared tea and traded favors. Now, they looked at him with a mixture of pity and contempt.
The leader of the delegation, a portly silk merchant named Matsumoto, bowed low, but his bow was stiff with resentment. "Governor," he began, his voice strained. "We come to you, as the highest authority in this city, to beseech you. Our businesses are collapsing. Our warehouses are full of silk and porcelain that we cannot sell. The port, which the Chinese Emperor has so graciously ordered reopened, is empty. No ships come, and no caravans dare to leave the city."
Another merchant, a grizzled man who dealt in rice and sake, spoke up, his voice rough with frustration. "The so-called 'patriots' in the mountains have made the roads impassable. They attack any caravan that tries to move goods. My last shipment to Fukuoka was burned, the drivers killed. We are being ruined, Governor! The Qing soldiers pay for their supplies in silver, yes, but it is not enough to keep us afloat. We need real trade to resume. Can you not speak with the Dragon Emperor? Ask him to send his army to clear the roads, to hunt down these bandits?"
Tanaka listened, his face a carefully constructed mask of sympathetic concern. Inside, his stomach churned. He knew exactly what was happening. This was the insurgency Lord Kuroda had unleashed, a war of a thousand cuts designed to make the occupation untenable. And now, acting on the precise, whispered instructions of the Emperor's spymaster, Shen Ke, he was to use the merchants' desperation as a weapon against it.
"Gentlemen, my heart aches for your plight," Tanaka said, his voice dripping with false sincerity. "Believe me, I have pleaded your case with the Emperor's advisors. But their position is… understandable, from their perspective." He sighed, as if bearing a heavy burden. "They will not risk the lives of their soldiers to guard your silk and your sake. They say the roads are unsafe because you, the people of this province, give shelter, food, and sympathy to the very bandits you now call patriots. They see it as a Japanese problem, one for us to solve."
He leaned forward, lowering his voice conspiratorially, drawing the anxious merchants closer. "However… there may be another way. The Emperor, for all his martial prowess, is a pragmatist. I have learned this about him. He respects order, efficiency, and above all, results."
Matsumoto, the silk merchant, looked intrigued. "What other way, Governor?"
"The Qing army will not protect your caravans," Tanaka explained, laying the trap. "But they would not object if you were to… protect them yourselves." He let the idea hang in the air. "You are wealthy men. You have resources. You could hire your own guards. Men who know the local terrain, who are not afraid of a fight. Unemployed samurai, perhaps? Ronin who are desperate for coin now that their lords have lost their lands? There are many such men."
The merchants looked at each other, confused and alarmed. "Hire our own army?" one of them stammered. "The Chinese would see that as a threat! They would crush us!"
"Not," Tanaka said, a cunning light in his eyes, "if this 'Merchant's Guild Security Force' were to be officially sanctioned and chartered by me, the Governor of this province. Not if its stated purpose was simply to protect the flow of commerce, a goal the Emperor himself supports." He paused, then delivered the poisoned bait. "And not if this new force were to provide… intelligence… on the movements of the resistance to the Qing military command. A show of loyalty. A demonstration that the true businessmen of Nagasaki are on the side of order and prosperity, not chaos and rebellion."
The room fell silent as the merchants absorbed the true nature of the proposal.
"In exchange for this… cooperation," Tanaka continued, his voice now a silken promise, "I am certain that many new opportunities would arise. Lucrative contracts to supply the entire Qing occupation army, for instance. For rice, for textiles, for steel and lumber. And I am certain that the Qing army would look far more favorably on caravans protected by a security force that was actively helping them win this war. The roads would suddenly become much, much safer for your goods."
He had laid out the choice with perfect clarity. On one side: patriotic poverty, continued disruption, and eventual ruin as their businesses collapsed. On the other: treason, collaboration, and immense wealth.
The merchants began to argue in hushed, frantic tones.
"It is a deal with the devil!" one hissed. "We would be betraying our own people!"
"And what of our families?" Matsumoto shot back, his voice low and fierce. "Are we to let them starve out of some misplaced loyalty to samurai who have done nothing but bring this terror upon us with their foolish attacks?"
"He is asking us to become spies! To sell out our countrymen for profit!"
"We are merchants!" another declared, his voice hard. "Our loyalty is to our ledgers and our families, not to the lost cause of some mountain bandits! The war is over! The samurai have lost! It is time to think of the future!"
Tanaka watched them, his heart a cold, dead stone in his chest. He was a poisoner, and he had just successfully injected a potent venom into the heart of his own city. He was pitting the merchant class, with their desire for profit and stability, directly against the samurai class, with their code of honor and resistance. He was forcing them to choose sides, fracturing the society he had once sworn to lead. It was a monstrous act, and it was working perfectly.
Finally, Matsumoto, his face grim but his eyes filled with a new, hard resolution, turned back to the governor. "Governor Tanaka," he said, bowing deeply. "The merchants of Nagasaki wish only for peace and prosperity. We will… consider your most pragmatic proposal. We will form a committee to discuss the establishment of such a security force."
Tanaka knew he had won. The committee was a formality. He nodded gravely. "A wise decision, Matsumoto-san. I am certain the Emperor will be pleased with your commitment to restoring order."
As the merchants filed out of the room, their minds already calculating the profits and risks of their treason, Tanaka stood alone in the grand hall. He had done his master's bidding. He had taken the first step in turning the Japanese people against each other. And as he looked at his own reflection in a polished lacquer screen, he could no longer recognize the man staring back at him.