The absolute, pristine peace of the Northern Fortress lasted for exactly four days.
I was sitting in the solar, comfortably wrapped in a thick wool shawl, going over the weekly grain inventories. Ginji, my newly appointed fox-kin shadow, was leaning casually against the doorframe, his bushy red tail swaying in a slow, rhythmic arc.
Suddenly, a massive, deep BWOOOM echoed through the stone walls, rattling the inkwell on my desk. It was the great iron horn of the outer gates.
Ginji's ears instantly snapped straight up. His hand dropped to the hilt of his uchigatana, his lazy posture vanishing in a fraction of a second.
"Are we under attack?" I asked, standing up.
"No, My Lady," Ginji said, his amber eyes narrowing as he listened to a second, shorter blast of the horn. "That is the ceremonial greeting. We have guests. Very powerful ones."
