At the border of the Land of Fire, autumn rain fell without end, cold and damp.
Along a muddy forest path, a convoy struggled onward.
"Faster! Move faster! You damned beasts!"
Senju Tokuma cracked his whip, lashing it viciously against the carriage shaft.
"Lord Tokuma—th-the horses really can't go on—"
The attendant beside him spoke in a trembling voice, clutching a heavy rosewood chest tightly in his arms. Its corners were worn, and with the jolting of the carriage, the lid had sprung open slightly, revealing a dazzling glint of gold.
That was money.
It was the last thing this group had relied on when they fled the capital.
Ten full carts of gold, jewels, and universally redeemable banknotes from the major money houses of the Land of Fire.
"If they can't move, dismantle the carriages! Throw out anything useless!" Senju Tokuma turned around, his eyes bloodshot and his sockets sunken. "Other than me and the daimyo, throw everything else away! What if those lowborn dogs catch up to us, huh? Do you want to die?!"
"What use is money!? Throw it away! How many times do I have to say it before you hear me?!"
The attendant shuddered at his ferocious expression, and the chest in his arms nearly slipped from his grasp.
"But, my lord—the rear, it doesn't seem like anyone is chasing us—"
"What do you know!"
Senju Tokuma roared hysterically, abruptly turning to look at the road stretching behind them through the rainy mist. It was empty, with only leaves and muddy water crushed beneath the wheels.
No one was there.
There really was no one there.
Sawada Hiroki was not trying to hunt them down.
They had been running for over a year. If Sawada Hiroki had wanted to kill them, they would have died