These were the words of the prettiest damsel of the East China Sea, Princess Asuna of Tanna, the last-born daughter of King Tannagork II. She recited them softly as she gazed at the distant horizon from her balcony, the sea breeze tousling her flowing orange curls.

  “Still writing poems, darling?”

  A deep, amused voice brought her back to the present. She turned and gasped in joy, “Father!”

  Breaking into a run, she leaped into his arms. The old king, despite his years, caught her effortlessly and twirled her around in a circle, laughing as she giggled. The moment stretched on until, breathless, Tannagork II pleaded, “No more, my dear! You’ll break your poor father’s back.”

  She smiled, her hazel eyes gleaming. “You always say that, yet you never let me fall.”

  Tannagork chuckled, smoothing her hair. Asuna was the image of her mother, her beauty undeniable. But what he cherished most about her was the peace she brought into his war-hardened heart.

  Her smile dimmed slightly. “Father… I heard that the court ruling was in favor of the savages.”

  Tannagork’s expression darkened. “Where did you hear that, my dear?”

  She sat gracefully, hands folded in her lap. “It’s all over Shuri, Father.”

  The king sighed heavily, rubbing his temples. But before he could answer, Asuna continued, her voice softer, almost hesitant.

  “I also had a dream—”

  Before she could finish, the doors burst open.

  A young man, tall and broad-shouldered, strode in—her elder brother, Prince Renshu. His expression was grave, and though he was normally one for teasing his sister, there was no playfulness in his eyes today.

  “Father, I must speak with you.”

  At first, Tannagork thought it was just another trivial matter, but the look on his son’s face made his heart sink.

  “Asuna, stay here with your brother,” he said, his voice firm.

  She frowned, sensing something was wrong, but he was already walking away, his regal posture stiffening as he transformed from a father into the King of Tanna.

  The throne room was vast, lined with banners of the Tanna Lords, each embroidered with the sigils of the great houses. A soldier, kneeling on the cold marble floor, clenched his fists as he delivered the message.

  Tannagork sat upon his throne, his sharp gaze piercing through the dimly lit hall.

  “Speak.”

  The soldier’s voice trembled. “My Lord, Lord Hidemasa of Hitachi has requested a joint council of all Tanna lords to convene in Shuri by the end of this month.”

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  Tannagork’s brows furrowed. “A council? Over what matter?”

  At that moment, Asuna entered the hall, her brother trying to restrain her, but it was futile. She pressed herself against a pillar, listening intently.

  The soldier swallowed hard and continued.

  “Hidemasa’s heir… has been murdered.”

  Silence.

  Tannagork exhaled slowly. “That is unfortunate, but succession laws are clear in the Tanna Codex of the Lords. This is a matter of inheritance, not a political crisis.”

  The soldier hesitated, then his body shuddered. He sobbed. His hands clenched into fists against the floor, his entire frame trembling.

  “Forgive me, my Lord,” he choked.

  Tannagork’s fingers tightened around the armrest of his throne. “Speak plainly, soldier.”

  The soldier’s voice cracked as he forced out the truth.

  “He was burned alive… alongside nineteen others… beyond the Kaigen Forest.”

  A sharp gasp escaped Asuna’s lips. She stepped forward instinctively, horror washing over her delicate features.

  Her father rose from his throne, his shadow stretching across the floor like a storm cloud.

  A single command left his lips, firm and resolute.

  “Summon all the Lords of Tanna to a grand council.”

  Far from Tanna’s royal halls, in the bustling capital city of Shuri, the scent of freshly lit incense mixed with the musk of parchment and ink.

  Shigen, the seasoned warrior, sat cross-legged in the dimly lit chamber of Lord Arashi Naran, an old ally. Across from them sat three men—lords of provinces bordering Hitachi, their faces dark with unspoken concern.

  “Shigen,” Lord Arashi said, his voice low, “how certain are we that this attack was not an isolated act of banditry?”

  Shigen exhaled through his nose. “You don’t burn twenty men alive and leave no trace of who did it unless you want to send a message.”

  One of the younger lords, Tetsuharu of Kaishin, slammed a fist on the table. “Then we should retaliate now! If we wait for the council, we will look weak.”

  “No,” Shigen countered. “We don’t know the enemy yet. If we strike blindly, we may start a war we cannot afford.”

  Lord Arashi stroked his beard, his expression unreadable. “Then what do you suggest?”

  Shigen’s eyes flickered in the candlelight. “We wait for the Grand Council. But we do not sit idle. I have men gathering intelligence as we speak.”

  The room fell into a tense silence.

  And then, from the darkest corner of the chamber, a slow chuckle echoed.

  A figure, cloaked in black, leaned forward. His face was partially obscured, but his presence was unmistakable.

  Lord Yoshiru, the Black Tide.

  His lips curled into a smirk. “You’re all acting as if this is a tragedy.”

  Shigen’s eyes narrowed. “And what would you call it?”

  Yoshiru shrugged. “An opportunity.”

  A chill settled over the room.

  Shigen’s voice was cold as steel. “An opportunity for what?”

  The Black Tide’s smirk widened.

  “To change the world.”

  The moon hung low over the land as riders stormed across the plains. The Grand Council of Tanna would soon convene, and with it, the fate of an entire kingdom would be decided.

  But hidden in the shadows, beyond the sight of kings and lords, whispers of something greater stirred.

  Something that neither Tannagork, nor Hidemasa, nor even the cunning Black Tide could yet see.

  The winds of war had begun to howl.