Drip.
An elongated droplet reflected murky light, carrying visible grime as it splashed onto the cracked wooden floorboards.
The middle-aged man sitting on the bench paid no heed to the droplets soaking his splendid clothes. He raised his head and gazed mournfully at the broken hole in the ceiling.
"Open the door."
A familiar voice sounded outside the dilapidated shack. The Daimyo of the Land of Wind stiffly turned his neck toward the plain wooden door pieced together from planks.
How humiliating!
The Daimyo of the Land of Wind, now a Prisoner, stared at it. Like a mother spider stubbornly clinging to her web, he slowly lowered his eyes and murmured to himself.
As light flashed through the gaps between the boards and poured in ever more fiercely, he straightened his back. The bearing of one who had ruled the Land of Wind returned to him, cutting through his filth-stained robes.
Even covered in mud, he was still the ruler of the Land of Wind.
"Ukai, as expected of the Minister of Finance. You sold me for a good price."
The moldy, pungent stench that hit him made Ukai frown. He waved an arm, signaling the ninjas behind him to withdraw for the moment.
Outsiders should not witness too much of the daimyo's disgrace.
"I am your minister, but I am also a merchant. Please do not forget that merchants are best at weighing profit against loss."
"The Land of Wind has no ministers who sell out their sovereign."
The creaking of footsteps on the floorboards echoed through the room alongside their pointed exchange.
Ukai looked down at his fallen former lord. A trace of pleasure rose in his heart as he said lightly, "But now it does."
The daimyo had still overestimated a merchant's shamelessness. Seeing not a shred