“A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak.”

Toshiro Mifune was in his quarters at the center of camp, gathering equipment for his assignment. He sheathed his curved long sabre in its scabbard. Dark as smoke, streaked with red flames, the Igeal, was indeed a masterpiece in metalworks. He prepared his sheng biāo and prayed at the edge of his bed.

“You ever missed, home, Toshiro?” Delilah said, coming into the tent and holding an ornate wooden chest rimmed with white gold,

“It best not to think about it too much,” Mifune rose to his feet and sat at the edge of his bed. “What brings you here, Delilah?”

“I can’t check up on a friend?” Delilah sat right next to him. “What Morgan said to you was cruel. I’m sorry you had to endure such vindictiveness.”

“In this line of work, we have to endure vindictive sons of bitches. And besides her words have merit to them. They always do.”

“Sure but you are, at least owe, to keep your privacy.”

“You’re always kind, sweet one.”

Delilah opened the ornate chest, revealing a flintlock, three round black bullets, and black powder in a leather-bound case. The pistol was carved from cherry wood, inlaid with brass and Miuran darkened steel engraved with the maker’s initials, MK. The metals were in a rippled pattern like a diamondback. “A gift from home,” Delilah said.

Mifune grabbed the pistol, holding the instrument in both hands, it was heavy. “How you came by this?”

Delilah smiled a sly smile. “I have friends everywhere in low and high places. And she said ‘hello’.”

“Is she well?”

“She’s holding up.”

“That’s good.”

“Is it really good enough, Toshiro?”

“Do you have intelligence on the movements of Inoue?”

Delilah studied Mifune. “He was last seen playing cards or dice with buddies of his at this inn. The Inn at the crossroads. Oh, I’m coming with you.”

“What? Why?”

“Charles said so and I wanted to go to begin with.”

“Right, okay, but please change your clothes. It’s revealing.”

Delilah smiled, “I’ve been in this life for a long time, Toshiro. I know how to elicit attention or not.”

She left the tent leaving Mifune with his new gift and thoughts. He leveled the pistol, aiming it at the crimson ceiling of his tent, he pulled the trigger and the hammer clicked. Loud, clumsy, inaccurate, and only good for one shot; it’s primitive but handy in a tight bind. Thank you, Mirko. You’ve done well, it’s a magnificent piece of weaponry.

***

Mifune and Delilah rode out deep into the woods, the sun sat boiling west at the edge of the forest line. They trodded steadily along the dirt road, amidst the redwoods and the old stones, and the Green River flowing over the rocks, running into the heart of the North Sea. Mifune stopped his horse and began to draw on what he was seeing in his ledger, his pencil strokes filled the page, bringing forth his own creation into existence.

“Why do you always take the time to draw, Toshiro?”

“I picked up this habit from my wife. It was something different, I enjoyed it quite a bit that it was hard to put down my pen sometimes.” Mifune put his pencil down and closed his ledger. “Let gets moving, boy,” he kicked his stallion to a steady pace.

“That’s sweet,” she said softly smiling.

“I wanted to get closer to her and as it turns out it has been dormant for a long time. It was exciting, it was fun and new. I can pour everything into my drawing and it’s the…truth.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Whatever feeling I’ve felt it’s on the page. What resides in my heart is always on the page, immortalized by my pencil lines.”

Delilah smiled, “You’re quite a romantic, Toshiro.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m not trying to tease. I think it’s a wonderful thing to be full of passion.”

“I seek truth and understanding, that it’s all,” he said. “What do you seek, Delilah?”

She studied Mifune and smiled, “Like anyone else, love and affection. It’s terribly boring to be alone and what’s worst is finding a man and then being cast aside for another woman,” her voice was low and somber, “afterwhile it’s best to be alone for a bit but it harder to place faith in people. It has to be earned with me.”

“How did Charles, the great Soldier King earn the favor of the second-best assassin in the company?”

“Second best? You’re an ass,” she laughed, “but what drew me in, was that he was genuine and compassionate. He always put on a tough front but he cares in his own way. Now it’s your turn, Toshiro.”

“My turn?”

“How you earned the favor of your woman?”

Mifune rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “That’s one of God’s great mysteries, I’m afraid. She flipped a coin and let chance to decide. For a time, I think she didn’t regret it but I can’t say now.”

“That’s fair.”

“What does that mean?”

“It’s a woman thing, you wouldn’t understand.”

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“Sure.”

Delilah studied Toshiro Mifune. Making note of how he moves and carries himself with grace and dignity. She eyed him thoughtfully. “So about Inoue…”

“I’ll do what I was commanded to do,” he said without sentiment.

“But he’s your friend; it’s why Charles asked me to tag along with you.”

“We grew up together and fought together and drank together. But we understood when the day come and our swords are out…It will be one man standing.”

“We’ll see, Toshiro Mifune.”

***

They continued riding through the forest, it was nightfall by the time they reached the Inn at the crossroads. Made of white stone, the chimney pumped gray smoke under the pale light of the full moon. Mifune and Delilah hitched their horses to a tree within a safe distance from the inn. Mifune adjusted his half-cape to conceal the pistol and his sword.

“Toshiro, what’s the plan?”

Mifune shrugged as he walked down to the inn.

“Are you telling me, you don’t plan ahead?”

“I wait, I observe, and seize the moment of opportunity.”

Delilah frowned and folded her arms. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

They walked and pushed open the doors of the tavern and it was bustling with activity. The smell of spirits and cured meats was in the air. Friends were among friends. Drinking and playing cards and exchanging stories of their lives. The soldiers of the Warrior’s Sons took their seats at the center of the bar and they took note of Jackson the Blue Bard in his fashionable azure attire lined with amethyst purple. He was gathering a small crowd of farmers and knights alike with his tale at his round pinewood table. He spoke with the zeal and clinical passion of an oracle.

“This Storm Lord and his heathen hordes had gathered around the mountaintop. Building machines of war of a madman’s creation; automatons for destruction He was threatening to unleash them onto these lands. Bringing slaughter, and desolation, and blight onto the earth. Instead, he incurred the wrath of God.”All eyes were glued to the Blue Bard. Quiet in anticipation. “A lone swordsman was set forth to oppose him. He carved through a path of seventy men leaving the face of the earth soaked with dark blood. Lightning grated the mountain twice. The storm dissipated. The pale light of the moon glistened off the blade of this lone swordsman.”

“Is that so,” said a peasant farmer, “Do you know the swordsman’s name?”

Jackson folded his arms and looked at the farmer thoughtfully. “His name matters very little,” he said. “He was an instrument of divinity and was sent to deliver the people from the would-be subjugation of this Storm Lord.” Jackson looked out to the darkened window and back to his crowd. “Since the death of the king, the realm has been divided and warring with each other. Blood for blood is the law of the land. Man against man. Betrayal after betrayal. Every man doing what’s right in their own eyes for it was the way it was before and will be. If another king rises from the ashes and unites the people it will be the very same king and his line that will set us against the nations of the world.”

By the time the bard had finished his tale, the small and grey tavern keeper poured two steins of meads for Mifune and Delilah.

“Wise blood,” Mifune said sipping his mead. “Wise blood runs thick in Jackson.”

“Wise blood? I never heard of that,” she said. “A saying from the Old Country?”

“My daddy used to say it, and he always said that his Granddaddy had it the thickest in our family.”

Delilah sipped her mead thoughtfully. It was sweet to her liking. “What you make of his account, Toshiro?”

“I ain’t sure but I heard it before at camp. I ain’t sure he’s telling it true. And I’m doubtful he knows God’s mind and intentions,” Mifune drank more of his mead and scanned the room for Inoue. He spotted his target at a round table playing cards and having a good time, smiling and laughing. Mifune rose from his seat and touched Delilah’s shoulder. “I assure you, things will go well,” he smiled but Delilah noticed his eyes did not.

She nodded. “I have your back, always.”

Mifune went to the table and Inoue rose from his seat and hugged and gave each other two kisses on the cheek.

“Come on, I’ll deal you in, Toshiro,” he said. “Since you’re playing at my table whoever cheats I’ll make them famous.”

Mifune smiled and took his seat. “It’s been a long time since I play this game promise me take it easy on me.”

Inoue sat down and shuffle his deck of cards and sent two in the direction of Mifune. He took a peek; a king of hearts and ace of spades was the hand he was dealt.

“This right here is Toshiro Mifune. The man of Warrior’s Son company,” Inoue announced with glee in his voice to those playing with him. “This man right here is a gambler. A professional bullshitter,” he smiled. “He’s liable to take all of your hard-earned wages so best be careful with him.”

“You’re too kind,” Toshiro said holding his cards close to his chest.

“How’s the wife and kid?” Inoue raised.

“Fine, the last I heard. I ain’t seen them in a long time.”

“You’re a damn fool.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard what I said, man. Longer you’re away, the harder it’ll get for them. Hear me?”

“Yeah. I hear you,” Mifune said resigned. He adjusted his half-cape with his left hand.

“I don’t think you are, Toshiro.” Naoya placed his cards down on the table and he looked at him squarely in the eyes. “The game we’re playing here puts at hazard is money. We lose some and gain some of it back. But what you’re hazarding can’t be gained back.”

Mifune raised again. “My business is my own. Now shut up and let’s finish this hand.”

Inoue smiled faintly but his eyes were full of concern. They continued to play, and the patrons folded and left the table to get food and drink leaving the warriors of distinction alone to finish their hand.

Mifune tapped his chips and looked down at his king of hearts and ace of spades. A strong and slippery hand to play. He took a deep breath. “I’m all in,” he pushed his chips to the square of the table.

“I call.” He pushed his chips to the center. “A pair of jacks.”

“A king and an ace.”

Inoue reached for his deck of cards and place five of them on the pinewood tabletop. “I’ll be damned. You won with a full house.”

Mifune smirked. “Keep your money. I won’t be needing it.”

“Thanks, bud.”

“Let’s take a walk, it’s especially beautiful at this time of night.”

“Sure.”

They left the tavern, following the trail to a lakefront, about a reasonable distance away from the inn. The pale moonlight reflected off the dark waters of the lake. It was quiet, and peaceful, as both men found it to be rare in a time when war seemed without end. They stood at the lakefront, taking it all in.

“Toshiro. Jackson was right.”

“Right about what exactly.”

“His notion about another king or emperor coming along bringing peace or whatnot. He would set us against another foe on a foreign land.”

“Is that so?”

“Sure it is. Toshiro, I’m done with this life,” he said. “We were two kids believing we could be soldiers and find glory as men of war and fortune but it’s a strange kind of glory killing men.”

“It’s all I know. I’ll be with you someday soon… my friend.”

“Let’s head back. There’s a storm approaching.”

Mifune lagged a little behind Inoue. He readied his pistol at his side. He cocked back the hammer and leveled it. Never before had Mifune held an instrument so heavy before. Inoue turned around and the pistol fired. The white smoke from the barrel rose like a fire in a furnace.

The bullet buried itself in his chest and blood was bubbling up from its hole. He staggered back a few steps and fell awkwardly to the face of the ground. Making a hideous thud. All the dignity of life he carried vanished as he lay helplessly dying in the dirt. Mifune kneeled to ground before him and grabbed his hand and softly squeezed it. Fighting back the grief he had within.

“I’m sorry things turned out this way. Please, please forgive me.”

“Toshiro?” he said weakly. “It’s not too late.” His eyes went glazed over and went sightless.

Mifune close them. No longer he could hold back the tears, rushing down like a stream.

“I’m sorry,” he said his voice breaking. “I had no choice.”

“Toshiro!” A woman called out in the dark of night. “Toshiro! Let’s go!” Delilah emerged from the darkness on her horse and along with Mifune’s destrier.

Mifune rubbed the tears from his eyes and vaulted on his horse. They rode hard into the night with the moon over the horizon before the darkest hour.