The morning light crept through the cracks in the wooden shutters, casting thin golden beams across the room. The air was cool, yet the peace of the morning was shattered as a bundle of new clothes was tossed onto their faces.

  “Get up, you half-dressed beggars!” Imei’s voice rang out, full of amusement. “You cannot wear these tattered rags to court! They will throw you out before you even say your names.”

  Sawai groaned, still half-asleep. “Can’t we just bribe our way in?” he mumbled as he pulled the fabric off his face.

  “No,” Imei shot back, “but if you want, I can pay the guards to beat some sense into you.”

  The room erupted in laughter as they dragged themselves up.

  One by one, they put on their court attire. Lima’s robes were deep emerald green with silver embroidery, flowing and dignified, making him look like a noble diplomat from some distant land. Sawai’s new outfit was a sharp, deep blue, fitting him like a seasoned military statesman. He straightened his back, examining himself in the reflection of a bronze mirror.

  “Not bad,” Sawai smirked, flexing his arms. “I might actually get mistaken for an officer.”

  Then, Kofi stepped out.

  Silence.

  His robes were unlike the rest—regal in color, with gold and crimson woven into the fabric. But it was not the color that stole their words—it was his presence. It was commanding. Majestic.

  Sawai, unable to handle the moment, squinted his eyes and tripped him.

  Kofi fell forward.

  Lima, arms crossed, smirked. “Graceful, even in falling.”

  Sawai burst out laughing, but before Kofi could retaliate, Lima swiftly stepped between them, holding him back.

  “Enough,” Lima grinned. “Save it for after court, my dear prince.”

  Kofi scoffed, brushing the dust from his robes.

  The tension was broken as Tetsujo entered the room. “It’s time to go.”

  The journey to the Court of Shuri was one of awe. The grand city-castle was massive—fortified walls stretching to the sky, wide roads where not just horses but chariots passed with ease.

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  As they approached the third wall, they passed through an immense stone arch.

  Sawai whistled. “This is impressive.”

  Shigen smirked. “Isn’t it? This arch was built in just one day, during the reign of King Tannahork’s father, after he returned victorious from seizing the western territories.”

  Kofi, unimpressed, scoffed. “I don’t like it.”

  Lima nodded. “Neither do I.”

  Imei ignored them. “We’ve arrived.”

  At the final gate, eight armored soldiers stood guard. Their presence was heavy.

  Sawai, eyes scanning them, asked, “Say, old man Shigen, how many army units does Tanna have?”

  The soldiers stomped forward in unison, their spears clanking.

  Shigen turned slowly. “We do not have units. We have Families.”

  Lima’s eyes widened. “Families?”

  “Get down from your horses if you value your lives,” Imei muttered, already dismounting.

  One by one, they followed.

  As Kofi stepped down, a soldier approached him. He was young, his armor polished, his eyes sharp yet uncertain. Their gazes locked.

  For a moment, time froze.

  The soldier hesitated, sweat forming on his brow. His fingers twitched, almost rising to his chest as if to salute a king—but Kofi was no king.

  Then, a superior officer barked, “Aranawa!”

  The soldier stiffened and stepped back.

  Kofi tilted his head. “What… was that?”

  Sawai raised a brow. “That was strange.”

  “I don’t know,” Kofi muttered.

  As they moved forward, Tetsujo spoke. “Every soldier here is of the Ketsuraku Rank. Only the elite make it into this court.”

  They passed through the towering gates, their steps echoing against the stone ground.

  Kofi glanced back. The soldier, Aranawa, was still there—watching him.

  Then, he smiled.

  Kofi, despite himself, smiled back.

  Inside, the air was different. The scent of jasmine filled the halls, and the gardens were breathtaking—carefully arranged streams, elegant pavilions, and vibrant flowers stretching across the landscape.

  They climbed the grand staircase leading to the Pre-Court Hall, where Shigen gathered them.

  “Listen carefully,” he began. “Today, the King of Tanna will be present, along with his princes and the Seven Great Families. This is a matter of national importance.”

  Lima’s expression grew serious. “That bad?”

  “Yes,” Imei said. “The ruling we face today may change everything.”

  Shigen nodded. “You must greet the families with respect. When the King enters, bow. Present the gift we’ve arranged through our advocator. And most importantly—” He paused, his voice lowering. “All of you from the settlement must not show resentment.”

  Silence.

  “The Butcher of Lika will be present.”

  A heavy weight settled in the air.

  Shigen lifted his head, eyes dark with fury. “That scum is already here.”

  Slowly, they turned.

  Standing at the far end of the hall, leaning against a marble pillar, was him.

  The Butcher of Lika.

  A tall man with jet-black hair, a long scar running down his face. His armor, thick and battle-worn, gleamed under the light. He was heavily armed.

  And he was staring directly at Kofi.

  His eyes were ice cold.

  Kofi felt his breath hitch. His hands clenched into fists.

  Memories of bloodied women and drowned children flashed before his eyes.

  His people.

  His family.

  His home.

  A storm of rage boiled inside him. His teeth gritted. His chest burned.

  And then—

  BANG.