Corpses fell with the bloom
Out of place, it gave a chance
A grave mystery
Hyousuke noticed the same thing as the light in the keep was pointed out. While it was an obvious call for optimism, he knew that it could be anything but that- Light could indicate many things. In an environment as ridden as war as this, it could be anything from a surviving guard to a goblin, if goblins could light lanterns and need them, or it could even be a ghost which was strong enough to haunt a room, producing light that used to exist at one point before the fateful battle. They would have to go in there and secure the room as it was the best place for an outnumbered group such as his. As they would soon be going indoors, the samurai dismounted and strapped his naginata to his horse, adding further unfortunate weight to the beast's burden such that it was slightly lob-sided as the weapon was bundled with his Yari, strapped to one side. He considered using his Wakizashi, which was ideal for close quarters, but considering that ghosts were reported to be common in the region, he preferred his Katana, which was blessed with an anti-spirit talisman. With one hand on his horse's rein, he unsheathed his family sword with the other, smoothly, quite eagerly- he hadn't held it for a day, and he enjoyed his sword immensely. To him, it would serve as his last bastion of Nipponese culture. It was his family's legacy- his legacy, and it represented the samurai spirit, his soul. The Katana was a samurai's life and death.
"We need to go in with care." Hyousuke said, remembering that they were outnumbered and probably outmatched in equipment and skill (at least his social subordinates were). He was observing Myrad, who was disturbing the dead, a rather reckless move. It could offend the spirits, and it was morally wrong to him- the unfortunate incident reminded the samurai that Myrad was a mercenary- an occupation that had a severe, bad reputation and connotation in his culture. Warriors without a master were looked down upon, and many would rather commit ritual suicide rather than remain masterless. Those who continued living became Ronin, and were bandits, mercenaries, employed by people of lower castes to be guards and soldiers. Myrad's behavior summed up the stereotype of a Ronin. While Hyousuke tried not to judge as he was in a far different land with far different rules, he could not help but to feel his prejudices rising once again. He felt that he could not entirely trust him anymore, "I should be at the front. I need you both to guard the back."
Reaching the ruined entrance of the keep, he lead his horse- no sense leaving it out to be either stolen, slaughtered or revealing their position. Quickly tying the reins to a secure bar, he held his sword two-handed, cautious of what could come.