Day broke early on [Day One];it was not the touch of Lady Sun that started the day, but the confused cries of peasants shepherded along by samurai, some staggering from wounds or disbelief, others striding ahead sternly despite what they had seen. And what they had seen was a sight such as none should see--the death of an Emperor by another's hand.

And worse, by that of his own ancestor.

The Lion who held the town and those of them who came into it swiftly took matters in hand, the precision in which they had been drilled since the First Akodo walked showing in their efficiency, and the compassion to which Bushido calls all apparent in how they opened their city to those in need. Nor yet were they alone in it, with representatives of the Left Hand working to support the Right, and even those of humbler status working to ease the suffering and tend to those in need of it.

It was a strange dawn that day, but one that showed golden glimmers of hope under the gathering storm clouds. What blizzard would come of it, I could not then write--I cannot now write. But the chill was from more than the lingering winter, and no blanket or flame could quite keep it out.

It is perhaps in the small things that normalcy survives, and in which those who face such times as these can retain something of who and what they were before. And in the face of tumult, in the wake of vile deeds, still did someone bearing both a daisho and a larger blade, such as is ascribed to the serpent-folk, carry three others' daisho with him, wrapped reverently and presented to a Lion officer at the gate. He seemed to stand with her a time, and it can only be assumed that he offered his services in the interim, standing with his new hosts in what we all began to understand was a time of great need.

Several spoke at the Governor's command, espousing the view that the Son of Heaven, Hantei XXII, whose memory is yet keenly felt, had been wrongly usurped, though by another who had held the Throne by right. Others in the room answered in kind, their fervor understandable in the shock of knowing that their lord and master had fallen--and not even in battle, with glory, but by an attack that from another source could only be called treachery.

And, indeed, for kin to slay kin is a grievous thing.

Cries rose up for war to be wrought against those who had done such wrong and supported it, cries for war to support the heir to the slain Son of Heaven, a child of the Right Hand. Young though he was then, and in peril--for how can a son be safe when his father's killer yet lives?--there were many who avowed their fealty to him from Toshi no Omoidasu.

Indeed, one of the returned Children of Shinjo, proud in purple, shouted like the wind of his Clan's following, horn sounding in the Lion court notes that others had surely blown before, as those attending gave heed. And the wind fluttered the leaves of the trees of those gathered, though how the branches shook might not always have been easy to see.

If they shook, though, they shook in increasing unison, a steady drum-beat to follow the horn-call, gaining in clarity and strength.

For my own part, being out of my depth--I have been a sea-borne Tortoise, after all, accustomed to a different swelling and pitching--I could but observe as those better versed in the ways of courts handled themselves, and, as I had been bidden by my better, I fixed as much as I could in my memory and in the work of my pen-hand.

Indeed, as we who were gathered there, those who had been in the city before and those who had fled to it that very morning, we began to realize that we would be at the front of such battle as would come. We began to realize that we would be the focus of an attack we were increasingly certain would come. And it would be at a poor time to endure such a thing, at the end of winter with the leaves not yet green here, with the stores of provisions nearing their end. For who could anticipate such a happening, such a usurpation of the order inherited from our ancestors--and occasioned by an ancestor.

But that occasion is what gave some pause. Others, more learned than I, might well think it thus that one returned from beyond--and an Emperor, no less--who acted so could not but be an emissary of the worlds beyond this. Some of those others might well think that a returned Emperor could not but act as the Heavens will. And that might be why it is that so much discussion had to follow.

All true samurai seek to serve the right, and they do it as their lords command. But when their lord can say no more, what then? Vengeance, yes, but against an Emperor? What true samurai could consider turning a hand against the blood of the Shining Prince?

One, a Phoenix, helped to break the impasse, it seemed. Speaking with the knowledge of her Clan, she asserted that, in fact, the slayer of his heir, Hantei XVI, was a spirit in violation of the Order of Heaven. Though only upon one leg, she stood firm on the point, introducing a certainty that reinforced the fervor already in the room.

The Governor found himself focused on the doings of the court before him, which began to separate into smaller groups, the thunder of their unified drumming losing its rhythm and quieting. A single Matsu put herself forward, to the Governor's approval, and it seemed that much of the momentum that had been building among the rest began to play out. Heroes of some renown turned away from the matter of most eminence--but, again, it is sometimes in the smallest things that we are reminded most of who and what we are.

I note that the Tortoise remain a small Clan, even now.

I note, too, that while there was earnest discussion of how to meet the threat that had presented itself, and there were other discussions that spring up whenever any diverse group meets, some yet attended to the arts. And it was good to see the youthful merriment in the eyes of some who seemed almost to amuse themselves as if with toys on the floors of their childhood homes. That they felt so secure in the place then, even with the news of the Emperor's death having come, surely bespeaks their trust in the Lion's strength. Whoever might think it would have another source...well, there are opinions and opinions, after all.

As the players put on their shows for the Governor and for themselves, parts being adapted and performed, I began to wonder how many of those who had fled to Toshi no Omoidasu this morning were sincere and how many were...otherwise. Because it seems that a good time to make clandestine motions is when much else is moving, the general tumult serving to conceal.

How many who had joined us were simply waiting to strike?

Of course, some would always have been; such is the nature of court. But, knowing how much support there must be for the child of Hantei XXII, may his memory never fade, it could not but be a warning or a threat--and an opportunity to show strength by eliminating it.

After I made my small contribution to the discussion--my words there were unimportant against those of greater skill, but I could not refuse to lift my voice--the Governor called for a final thrust of discussion. It was clear that, having taken the counsel of his kin, he was near to a decision. And that is no surprise.

Of course, it is the case that some things continue in nearly every circumstance. I had occasion to replenish and augment my stores of paper, which was fortunate, and I was pleased to find quality washi even in the exigency. The resources of those loyal to the Emperor, the true Emperor, are astounding to consider, and even more to experience.

And I learned that there were other places I might look for other things. I did not think it meet that I should do so quite at that time, but, as surely as the dusk follows after the day, I knew that I would thither soon.

But that the Tortoise is slow does not mean it does not tire, and night drew on. I made my way back to the rooms that I had been given--and now shared. But I did not get there without interruption--and a pleasant one, as I happened across the mighty trumpeter from the day's session of court and a healer I had seen impressively at work earlier in the day. We talked together for a time, and I found myself in mind again of my voyage away, when I saw whales and orochi out in the open sea.

The Children of the Wind may have blown far before returning to Rokugan's breath, but there are other winds that fill the Tortoise sails and carry other words.

Alas, the night closed in, and I retired to my room at last. Time at sea had made me accustomed to sleeping in close quarters, so I did not suffer so much as some might, and I was able to requisition enough material from the staff to string together a workable hammock--though I confess it strange to sleep in one without the rocking of a ship to help lull me to sleep.