"What are you saying, Lothar?" one of the guards roared,
The young man knelt before the daimyo's throne, his forehead pressed against the pristine mat.
The guard, a man in his late thirties with rich brown eyes and long hair draping down his back, tightened his grip on the hilt of his sheathed katana. "You should be beheaded for spouting such nonsense to your lordship!"
Daimyo Kurokage Hisanobu stared down at the boy, stroking his beard in deep thought. His skeptical gaze lingered as the tension in the room thickened.
"Well?! Are you going to speak?" the guard continued, glaring at Lothar. Though his head remained bowed, Lothar's eyes shifted to meet the guard's fiery stare.
"My words are not meant for you, Kaminari," he murmured.
Kaminari's brows furrowed in rage, and he stepped forward. The daimyo raised a hand, stopping him in his tracks.
"For what purpose do you seek to give the demon blade to a child?" the daimyo asked, his voice calm but probing.
Lothar lifted his head slightly, his tone steady as he pleaded his case. "My lord, the blade has chosen him. And, if I may add, Lady Keiri has already grown quite fond of him—"
"Whether Lady Keiri is fond of him or not," Kaminari interjected, fists clenched, "does not give him the right to a weapon that could destroy us all!"
"Kaminari, let the boy speak!" the daimyo commanded, his voice sharp. The room, thick with tension, quieted instantly. "Carry on."
Lothar gave a soft hum of gratitude before continuing. "From my judgment, and mine alone, I believe it is best to train this boy—to use him as a secret weapon for our nation, my lord."
"I see…" Kurokage murmured, considering the proposal. "And what if harm should come to pass because of this choice?"
"Then I will take the boy's head myself—and offer mine as repentance."
The daimyo's eyes widened at the bold declaration, but his expression soon softened. A faint smile crept onto his face as he gave Lothar a nod of reassurance. "Very well… If this is a choice you are sure of."
"Thank you, my lord!" Lothar exclaimed, his voice filled with relief. Rising to his feet, he smiled gratefully before bowing low, pressing his forehead against the mat once more. "You will not regret this. That, I promise you!"
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(Lady Keiri's pov)
Years would pass from the time I met Fushiguro on the road side of edo— the boy I had once known, now gone to war with a daimyo's army, one of the newer ones who felt everything should belong to him, Daimyo Fushikage Toumo.
The room felt oddly quiet as I entered the women's quarters, a place of solace that seemed far too calm for the turbulence weighing heavily on my heart. As I stepped forward, I was greeted by a warm voice.
"Oh, Lady Keiri, what a surprise," the older woman said, her eyes crinkling at the edges with a soft smile. "I could've sworn you had plans with Fushiguro-dono."
I could feel my cheeks flush as I kneeled at the table, trying to focus on the calming sight of the tea being poured, though my thoughts were anything but settled. "You heard of that?" I asked, my voice betraying a hint of vulnerability.
"Rumors spread like wildfire, my lady. There's no escaping that," she chuckled softly, and I found myself momentarily lost in the sound of her warmth, a contrast to the unease swirling within me.
My fingers gripped the delicate cup, tracing its smooth surface. My gaze followed the swirling steam, though I hardly saw it, my mind elsewhere. "So where is he?" she asked, her voice curious, almost probing.
"He's at war." The words slipped from my lips with little emotion, though they carried a weight that pressed deeper as I spoke. My eyes, however, didn't lift to meet hers. Instead, I stared down at my cup, watching the ripples form in the tea, reflecting the unrest inside me.
"I see." The older woman's voice softened in understanding. A heavy silence followed, and I could hear the distant sounds of life beyond the castle walls—sounds that seemed so disconnected from my world here. My heart ached, and I had to force myself to breathe.
"We've been at war with this nation for ages, with Lord Fushikage's army. I just… don't know when it will end," I murmured, my fingers tightening instinctively around the porcelain cup. I wanted to feel the warmth, the calm, but it didn't reach my soul. I could hardly stand the thought of the endless battles, the uncertainty that each day brought. It felt as if time was slipping through my fingers, and yet I had no control over it.
The woman, sensing my turmoil, leaned forward gently, her hand resting on my shoulder in a quiet, reassuring gesture. Her voice, though calm, was filled with a comforting certainty. "Soon, the tides of battle will be over, and Fushiguro-dono will come back to you."
Her words were meant to comfort, but they only deepened the uncertainty gnawing at me. I nodded slowly, but even as I did, doubt lingered in the back of my mind. When would he return? Would he return? The path ahead was shrouded in mystery, and the fear of what might happen kept me on edge. I could hardly allow myself to hope too much, for I knew that hope without certainty was a dangerous thing.
"I hope you're right," I whispered, though I couldn't be sure if I even believed my own words.
"And when he's back maybe you should talk about your future," she said with a wink, i suddenly the heat of the cup faded, my hands were cold and my face was fuming.
"Don't just say stuff like that!" I practically roared, though my voice softened as quickly as it has risen, my hands reaching to cup strands up my hair and pressing it's black silky texture to my burning face.
"It's not like that, it's not like that at all—" I looked down, my gaze softened in thought as the words pass by my lips. "Even if it was- i doubt it could ever happen…"