The Land of Fire, the Capital.
Uchiha En and his party entered.
The streets were as bustling as ever.
The noble lords sang and danced in delight, the whole city peaceful and prosperous—a picture of a golden age.
As though the tragedy a few days earlier—the fall of the neighboring Capital of the Land of Wind, the beheading of its Daimyo, and entire blocks of mansions reduced to scorched earth—had never happened.
Uchiha En's gaze remained unchanged, but a cold smile touched his lips.
Just days ago, the neighboring Daimyo of the Land of Wind, along with dozens of mansions in the West Quarter, had been reduced to ashes.
Yet the noble lords of the Land of Fire were still singing and dancing, enjoying themselves immensely.
Well, well, well.
People pretending to sleep are best woken with a splash of cold water.
The Daimyo's Mansion.
Konoha's party stopped outside the main gate, and Uchiha En looked up and surveyed the surroundings.
A sentry every five paces, a guard post every ten. Every Samurai wore armor, their blades drawn three inches from their scabbards, cold steel gleaming. Even the shadows of the corridor pillars and the blind spots beneath the eaves concealed Hidden Guards lying in wait, their breathing held.
Security was tight, every detail displaying royal grandeur.
The Daimyo's messenger hurried out of the carriage ahead of them and jogged inside to announce their arrival.
Before long, the gates swung open.
"Summon... the Fifth Hokage for an audience..."
With his hands behind his back, Uchiha En walked calmly and steadily into the hall.
Deep within the great hall, the Daimyo of the Land of Fire sat high upon his throne, dressed in a brocade robe and jade belt, his expression solemn.
But the two dark circles beneath his eyes