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Summary
When Ryomen Sukuna conquers the Tenryō Kingdom, the Geto family survives the occupation by doing whatever they must to keep their people alive.
Years later, Sukuna falls to the armies of the Gojo Kingdom. In the aftermath, Tenryō is placed under the rule of House Kamo, governing the conquered territory in the Gojo crown’s name.
Those who lived too close to Sukuna’s court are declared loyalists, some are executed and others are reduced to slaves. Suguru Geto, young, beautiful, and the only son of a disgraced religious house, becomes one of them.
But when questions of loyalty and missing taxes begin to surface, the Kamo patriarch needs a way to placate the young and ruthless King Satoru Gojo.
What is meant to be a distraction becomes something far more dangerous. In a court where power is shifting and loyalty is bought and sold, Suguru becomes collateral in a struggle between a crumbling nobility and a king who will do anything to stabilise his kingdom.
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or my excuse to write King Gojo and Slave Geto
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They walked quickly through the garden paths, the quiet giving way to urgency with every step. Satoru tried again, keeping his voice low. “Why has this meeting been called?”
The attendant hesitated. “The Tenryō Kingdom,” he said finally. “It has fallen.”
Suddenly the garden seemed very far away.
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$$$$$$$$$$
&&&&&&&&&Satoru did not return the smile, he simply kept walking.
That night, he began writing things down. Not lessons. Not summaries for tutors to review. His own record, hidden behind the false back of a lacquered writing box where no servant would think to look. Names. Dates. Who met whom. Which houses sent gifts. Which officials appeared at council sessions uninvited. Which servants were reassigned to new corridors.
He attended every meeting he was permitted to attend and pretended to be bored during the ones he wasn’t meant to understand. Adults spoke freely when they believed a child was only half-listening.
By the time Satoru noticed the patterns, the court had already begun to rearrange itself, in small adjustments that shifted authority away from the throne and into private hands. Like furniture being moved a fraction at a time.
His father still ruled. But more and more often, Satoru saw decisions presented to him as conclusions rather than questions.
The temple changed next.
The carved panels along the inner hall, depictions of old stories and saints were covered with cloth. The old hymn begun to change and offerings were directed towards the new king rather than the ancestors.
“Mother,” Suguru asked one evening, watching two attendants climb a ladder to secure another cloth across the stone, “why are they covering everything?”
His mother did not look up from the table where she sat surrounded by ledgers. “Dust,” she said lightly. “The smoke is bad for the carvings.”
“They’ve never covered them before.”
“Then consider it a new precaution.” Her brush moved steadily across the page, the scratch of it loud in the quiet hall.
Satoru started counting accidents the way Suguru counted missing metal.