Drizzling autumn rain fell softly among the pavilions and terraces of the Daimyo Palace. In a fresh and elegant small courtyard, golden autumn chrysanthemums bloomed wantonly, resembling clusters of orange sparks burning in the misty rain.
In the rain pavilion in the center of the courtyard, a teapot bubbled on a small stove, emitting wisps of white thin smoke.
Wearing a scholar's robe, the Daimyo of the Land of Fields stood with his hands behind his back, looking up at the gray sky with an unshakeable sorrow in his eyes.
Tap, tap, tap...
Amidst the drizzling rain, steady and powerful footsteps approached from afar.
A tall and straight man strode forward, letting the rain soak his clothes while his steps remained unhurried. He carried a strange weapon on his back, walking step by step toward the rain pavilion.
The weapon resembled a folded fan, but of massive size. The fan had no paper face, only ribs. Each rib was forged from refined steel with edged borders, radiating a chilling sharpness.
The man removed the weapon, set it aside, and bowed to the Daimyo of the Land of Fields. The Daimyo waved his hand, turned, and walked over to sit on the tatami mat beside the tea table, letting out a soft sigh.
The man stood on ceremony, plumping himself down opposite the Daimyo and speaking up, "Still agonizing over it?"
The Daimyo picked up the teapot, poured a cup of tea for each of them, and sighed mournfully, "The Land of Flame has deployed its troops at our doorstep. Even the Land of Frost only managed to hold out for five days, sigh... Not to mention us, who are inferior to the Land of Frost."
The man picked up his tea cup, drained the tea inside in one gulp, and