Hikawa Sojiro did deign to make his appearance after his meal. The sounds of the small banquet reached the room, muffled. The lord, his advisors and higher ranking retainers. Eight, maybe twelve people could be heard, loud, rambunctious, bragging, enjoying what they had with little concern, secure behind walls and soldiers.
The guards were changed twice, allowed to go have their meal and rest.
Only then was the Lord announced, appearing from behind the painted screens, taking his place and staring Kojuro down for a long silent moment, examining the man carefully. Calculating, deliberate. Memory did not seem to help Sojiro in the least in seeing beyond the scruffy dour look helped by actually bad mood, sore muscles and some hunger.
The province lord assured Ryoma that he was honoured by the opportunity given by Date Saki. He then proceeded to pretend that his obligations and duties had been the sole reason for the delays along with the need for security.
While actually grateful he did do every possible thing to show himself as hierarchically superior.
True or not that was how he wanted to be seen. Someone in charge, someone influential, someone whose orders were never defied, someone able to dictate how other should behave.
Sojiro was about Kojuro's age. He looked slightly worn, haggard underneath the look of absolute confidence. Dark eyes, thick brows and imposing-looking. That had not changed much although Kojuro remembered those traits being a bit more controlled, more subdued, shaped into the calm image of the model heir, following Kinshiro, listening to the negotiations, asking the questions he needed from both his master and the people around.
But that mask was cracking now.
Saki had seen it in the request. Kojuro was seeing it right before his eyes.
Comparing his memory with the man in front of him was proving very informative. And he was sure it was information Hikawa Sojiro did not want to have exposed.
Despite the guards and all the assurances all the security checks the ronin in front of him had to go through in his hand still sneaked pats at the katana on his hip.
A short meeting, reinforcing the story that had already been used. It did not falter, change or grow. But it kept emphasising the threat, a threat to his power, to the stability of the province, to its prosperity, hinting that if it grew it could challenge Date's rule, the need for a crushing force. Kojuro listened, betraying no opinion. That attitude seemed the right one to take as Sojiro became calmer.
After saying what he needed he offered all the formal niceties the situation requested and called one of the guards to guide him to the barracks where he had his own room prepared. A meal was offered. Free movement on the household and province was extended. No guard was assigned to keep him in check.
Overall he behaved as if Ryoma was an honoured guest and an ally. Hikawa Sojiro was trying to use Ryoma to gain the One-Eyed Dragon's support. And he seemed to need or want it desperately.
Tomorrow he would join in the patrols but first he had to write and send a report…
How those volumes had reached Kojuro's room in-between bathing and eating was not a mystery of who had sent it but it was an oddity how no one had noticed an infiltration amidst all that security.
Saki had gathered family records, timelines, events and how they had advanced Sojiro's position until he reached his current position one year ago. It seemed the banditry had started years before that, after Hikawa Sion's death along with his wife and offspring, in a fire that was officially stated to be the result of an earthquake. And she was not convinced in the least. Neither was he after leafing through the pages in the candlelight.
"A ronin?" Yumi murmured, testing the words carefully, as the rumours that circled through the province reached their new camp deep within the northern woods, the title reaching her ears, perking Yumi's interest. It brought a small smile to her usually stern expression as she stood and crossed the tent, walking into the chilly autumn air, glancing around, finding the group that exchanged the recent gossip with the people and the household servants, approaching.
So their interference and constant chipping away at his resources and allies had finally become too much for the usurper to handle alone in his usual underhanded and cautious way. He had chosen to chance requesting the One-Eyed Dragon's support, breaking away from his old pattern. Cautious and calculating as he was that was a big indication that his power was reaching fraying point, that he could no longer conceal the internal struggle and most likely he would not be able to prevent them from reaching out, from requesting aid themselves.
Instead of the desired blind trust and offering of a small army or the Saica to suppress the threat Sojiro had no doubt painted to treacherous levels of menace the Ruler had sent a single envoy, one man to see what was the true extent of Sojiro's need and the nature of the bandits. It could be perceived trust of distrust. As Yumi pieced together the fragments of conversation there was a small hope growing in her mind that it could be the latter.
A break in the stalemate in the tug-of-war.
Perhaps the new arrival, unallied, untouched by the politics that had tangled the province in Sojiro's control, would be willing to listen, to tear away years of deceit and manipulation. And then to make their voices heard to the One-Eyed Dragon, to set things right. Maybe they could finally attempt contacting and trusting.
Older men, samurai, warriors and soldiers tested in the wars.
Men and women loyal to Hikawa Kinshiro and his son Hikawa Sion.
And now loyal to Yumi.
Those were the bandits Sojiro feared. The one who had realized how he had reached his position. Who he had killed and how. The ones trying to set things right once more. They all had known the truth or found out about it shortly before seeking her and the bandits she lead, abandoning their ranks in favour of rebellion.
"Report." Yumi asked softly. The banter stopped as the men turned to her, nodding in greeting. A tall, slender woman in plain warrior's clothes, brown hair lightened by the same sun that had darkened her skin that commanded their respect for who she was and what she had started, who she had become.
