"Today you will set out with Princess Ito to the Province of Izumo. I expect your journey will not be easy but each of you has shown yourselves to be strong and honorable. I trust you will all protect my daughter's life with your own if necessary. You must travel as the common people do so be sure to gather what you need from town. Princess Ito will be joining you at the gates when you are ready to leave." 

Tetsuo rose to his feet in one fluid movement and bowed his head to Lord Ito. He issued no words, and exchanged no gesture; his mission was clear and there was no need to dally. Turning on the spot, he left his companions and headed for the castle's open gateway. 

Before Tetsuo could leave, he had two duties to attend to. One was a matter of honour, and another was a matter of dishonour. The latter pained his conscience, but he was more uncertain now than he had ever been about his mortality. This journey would kill him, he knew it in his bones, but it would not dissuade him from what honour demanded. 

Descending from the rise of Agata castle, Tetsuo entered the town. Peasants went about their toil with miserable expressions; Ashigaru, tight in formation, marched past him with grim faces. A few Samurai milled about, exchanging hushed words and looking uneasily at passerbys. These were hard times for the peoples of Lord Ito's domain. Unending war had stripped them of riches, recent defeats had cost them their land and things did not look set to get better.

Tetsuo pitied them, peasant and Samurai alike. There was little happiness to be found in a losing battle, and he was grateful that he would no longer be part of it one way or the other. One way or the other, Lord Ito's struggle would no longer concern him. 

A pang of guilt struck his conscience then, and he recoiled at himself as he processed his thoughts. Where had such selfishness come from? These were his people as much they were Lord Ito's. He had fought for them, he had fought besides them, shared defeats as much as victories and had helped many redeem their honour with the stroke of a sword. He paused as his entered the town proper, and stepped aside as a column of Ashigaru made their way past him. 

Looking up at the sky, and taking in the endless field of blue, he made a solemn vow: no more selfishness, no more defeatism, and no more expectations of an impending death. He was Lord Ito's servant, loyal and strong. He would lead the young Princess to her to-be-husband, and his people, Lord Ito's people, would see their fortunes renewed. 

As the Ashigaru passed, Tetsuo attended to his first duty. Stopping by the blacksmith, the aging Samurai held out a piece of script that he had stuffed into his komino. The blacksmith was a wily young man, and looked up at Tetsuo with curious eyes. The script was the deeds to Tetsuo's home, and more importantly, his battle armour. It was an old set of laced steel, and though he had cared for it dutifully, it was beginning to rust around the edges. He would not require it on this journey, and so he figured, one way or the other he would not require it again. 

“Show this to my land steward. You will find him down by the thatchers. He will grant you access to everything I have, which we have already discussed,” croaked Tetsuo, staring hard into the eyes of the young blacksmith.

“Of course, noble Tetsuo. Here is what we agreed,” replied the blacksmith, as he removed a small leather pouch from around his neck. 

Tetsuo snatched the pouch from the blacksmith, gave a slight nod and a grunt, and then proceeded onto his second, darker duty. 
Leaving the blacksmith, Tetsuo headed for the local Sake Den. When he was a young man, Tetsuo frequented the whore houses but never chose for himself a wife. It was not such a matter of dishonour as it was of poor taste; all men needed a wife, it was his duty, but then all men had the rights to the loose women who sold themselves for a pittance. Fourteen years ago, he fathered a daughter with a beautiful young Geisha. The session had cost him a mere gold coin, but the resulting offspring had cost him far more in terms of pride and personal contentment.

And so it was, his final act before the road would be one of shallow salvation. His bastard daughter did not know him, he had forbidden it. Her mother was now a spinster, working the fields every day from dawn to dusk. They lived a miserable existence, and he was responsible. Today he was to go part way of fixing that. 

Entering the Sake Den he was instantly recognised and hailed by various off-duty Samurai. He bowed them each in turn, and walked up to the bar where he was greeted by a short tubby man with unclean matted hair. Immediately the barman produced two small clay cups, and filled them with a bottle of sake. 

“No drink for me, old friend, just a favour,” said Tetsuo, smiling. 

“The girl?” Asked the barman, smirking as he threw back his cup of sake.

“And the mother,” replied Tetsuo sternly. “They must not know I sent this. It would be wrong of me to make myself known now, after all these years.”

“As you say.” 

Tetsuo planted the leather pouch on the bar, turned and left in a single movement. There was no more to say, and now, there was nothing else to be taken care of. He focused purely on the task at hand: Princess Akumi's safety concerned his thoughts. Distant memories of roads local and far strew themselves across his mind's eye, and he immediately set about identifying the more dangerous areas. In his imagination he saw bandits, armed with bow and sword, snarling in the bushes; he saw Otomo Samurai, mounted on horse and charging down a village road. There were many points for ambush, and much evil abroad that would attempt to harm the Princess. 

Troubled, but calculated, Tetsuo made his way to the town gates. There he would find his cherished yari, and the ancestral swords of his father.