It has been some time since we have last ridden together. I miss the wind-swept plains of Shiro Shinjo! Tell your mother that I send my regards.
The lands of the Crab are bleak and ugly. I do not envy our shell-backed cousins the duty they must perform here. After only a few months of helping defend the wall at Commander Lixue’s side, I think that I have seen enough goblins and undead to last a lifetime. If you ever hear a man question a Crab’s bravery, know that you have heard a lie. The land may be broken but its people are not. The fires of bushido burn in their heart like the sun above.
It is no coincidence, I think, that the Sun was once a Hida.
With the wall retaken, the Khan has recalled us to his side. I thought at first that perhaps we were to return home but it seems that is not to be. The smiths in camp have begun mending and producing arms in great abundance. The Yasuki peasants scramble about, bearing heavy loads of rice and supplies, piling the carts high.
I have seen such activities often enough to know that we are preparing for war. Yet I see no jade among the supplies, so obviously we do not intend to march on the Shadowlands. My guess is that the Shogun has called upon our Khan, that he has determined what enemy shall be the first to face our wrath.
I stand beside Unicorn, Lion, Mantis, Crab, and even a few Scorpion. This army is fearsome indeed, but who shall face its wrath? I have often heard it said that the Shogun would build his Empire on the bones of his enemies, and now it seems there is some truth to it.
But whose bones will they be?