In Morosuke's domain, every man stood at his post.
It had only been a few days since Morosuke summoned them all back, calling in old loyalties and forging new ones with coin. In a place like Minato, finding mercenaries and ronin willing to sell their swords was never a difficult task. Desperation lived on every corner of that town, and desperate men were easy to buy. All it took was the right price, and they came in droves, filing into his domain one after another until the compound hummed with bodies, weapons, and restless energy.
More than three hundred men now surrounded the estate alone, posted at every gate, every wall, every shadow worth watching.
"I can't believe there are so many of us," one of them muttered, scanning the rows of armed figures.
"That's what Morosuke's name does," the man beside him said with a grin. "And now that we have Chiyo, all of Minato answers to him."
"What about the Daimyo Yorimasa?"
The first man glanced over. "You haven't heard? He's dead."
