The Warlord's solar was peaceful for exactly three days after the Clan Elders retreated to their mountain estates with their tails tucked between their legs.
I was sitting at the oak desk, sipping hot plum tea and happily reviewing the newly adjusted, completely honest tribute ledgers. Ginji was standing quietly by the window, his amber fox eyes watching the snow fall over the courtyard.
Then, the iron horn at the outer gates blew.
It wasn't the deep, single BWOOOM of a ceremonial greeting. It was three sharp, frantic, staccato blasts that made my blood instantly run cold.
An Imminent Threat.
Before the sound of the third blast even faded, Akira threw the solar doors open. He was already fully armored in his black Vanguard plating. The calm, domestic husband was entirely gone, replaced instantly by the terrifying Commander of the North.
"Kitsune," Akira ordered, his voice echoing with absolute authority. "To the war room. Now."
