![]() ![]() Opening your eyes anew, you notice a terse smile curving Flora's lips. ![]() "Keiji," Flora whispers, kneeling beside you. Tired from the earlier beating, you slump onto your hands and knees, taking a deep breath. What little strength you have is helping shake off the dry, bitter nip in the air. Growling in frustration, you jam your eyes shut, praying for this nightmare to end - for something, anything to free you from this hostile, foreign place. Whispers flare from all directions they crawl into your skull as unwanted intruders. These ones appear better armed and armored compared to the many rank-and-file grunts you've seen thus far. Fiercely burning torches illuminate its perimeter, and many guards stand careful watch nearby. "Wait here," demands Charlotte, having lead you and Flora to the front of the largest tent in camp. Oh how you would love to strike that cat-like grin from her freckled face, woman or no. Spearmen leer at you, torn from their drills and combat exercises as you're paraded around for everybody to see. The Nohrian camp stretches out before your eyes, a collection of inelegant stone buildings and tents atop a frozen hillside. What good are those to you now, having been beaten to a pulp and disarmed? The greatest weapons of any Samurai are his guile in combat and his quick reflexes. Loathe as you are to admit it, no longer having a sword in your hand fills you with a sense of cold, foreboding dread. You fought, you survived, and until just recently you didn't ask many questions when it came to those above your station. You never cared too strongly about the days ahead. So why now, as Charlotte slaps you awake, are you so painfully uneasy? The very thought of what waits ahead makes you queasy, nauseous, even. Despite your personal wants and needs, the kingdom of Hoshido always comes first. No matter the cost, you've done what is expected of you.
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