The first report arrived shortly after dawn.
Norihiro was already awake.
He had slept little that night, though no one outside his inner circle would have known it. From the moment the servants entered his chambers, he carried himself with the same composed authority he always wore. His hair had been tied neatly behind him. His dark robes were immaculate. His expression was calm enough to make even the oldest servants lower their eyes and believe that nothing in the world could truly disturb him.
Yet the room around him told another story.
Letters lay open across the low table near the window. Some had been read once. Others had been read several times, their corners pressed flat beneath Norihiro's fingers. A map of the South rested beside them, marked with small ink circles and lines that had not been there the day before.
Minami Kyoto stood at its center.
Kajiya Hara lay to the west.
And between them stretched the roads that could soon carry an army.
