They met in the long hall, and they came in silence. Most came on silent, bare feet, took their positions carefully, almost ritualistically, and knelt down, their eyes lowered. The Mirumoto entered the room, and the rustle of their silken garments seemed sinuous in the deathly stillness. The two Mirumoto lords placed their katanas in the stands which had been set aside for them, and took their places in the front of the gathering, and they too, knelt, and lowered their eyes, awaiting the arrival of the Lord of the Dragon Clan.
Kesuan, by the elaborate rules of etiquette, was required to remain by Daini, and so he knelt to Daini's left. Mikoto, charged by Yokuni to watch over Kesuan, knelt to the youth's left. Before he had lowered his eyes, the screen was slid aside, and Yokuni entered the room, glided to his place before the assembly, and knelt in one smooth motion.
"Welcome to Kyuden Togashi."
"Lord," Daini leaned forward in a deep bow, which nevertheless did not touch the floor. "You summoned, and I came."
The Champion of the Dragon Clan regarded the young Mirumoto with hooded eyes, barely visible beneath the iron helm he wore. His daisho remained in its place, thrust in his obi, and in his hand was a war fan emblazoned with the Dragon Mon. He extended the fan to Daini, "Take and receive." he said.
Daini looked up, and beheld the fan. A look of incredulity crossed his features like the moon on troubled waters, but faded quickly. He reached out, to receive the fan from Yokuni's hand. His face glowed with honor at this unexpected prize, but as his hand brushed the fan, Yokuni withheld it a moment.
"The wise man does not reach into the fire. Do you embrace what must come?" Yokuni's eyes bored into Daini Kesuan watched them, as though they were figures in tableau - Daini kneeling, bowing, arm outstretched to receive the fan from his Lord's hand; Yokuni, immovable, half in shadow, his inflexible arm seemingly at rest, holding the fan just beyond Daini's fingers.
"Lord, I will bear such burdens as you choose to place upon me." Daini's voice was tight, and Kesuan heard the injured honor in his voice as his Lord toyed with his desires and his ambitions.
Yokuni withdrew the fan, gazed at it with an appraising glance. "What would you do with such a thing? What have you done with the last gift which passed from my hands?" His eyes fell onto the sword which lay gleaming on the stand at hand. "You have done deeds of reknown, become known as a duellist and a man of honor. I have heard tales of your deeds in the court of the Emperor, but the words trouble me. You have drawn blood for honor - was it the blood of one who troubled the Empire? Was it the blood of one who challenged your honor? Was it the blood of one who challenged the the honor of your family? Or was it one who challenged honor itself, that you should die to no gain to your Clan, your Family, or yourself?"
"Lord, honor was questioned, and the lady had no champion." Daini burst out.
"And when you have a hundred men to die at your command, will you allow ten to die for the honor of another?"
"No, Lord!"
"And when you have a thousand men to die at your command, will you allow a hundred to die for the honor of another?"
"Lord, I have said no!"
"And when you have all the armies of the Dragon to die at your command, will you allow a Family to die for the honor of another."
"No, Lord, a thousand times no!"
"Then why do you embrace that which you deny?" Yokuni asked.
Daini gazed at his lord, his arm still extended to take the fan from Yokuni's hands, his eyes wide with desire and anguish.
Yokuni went on, implacably, "Why do you hold two contradictory thoughts, that you are prepared to die for another, and yet deny that death to a fraction of the men in your command? If it is good to recieve death from the hands of an enemy in defense of the honor of another, it is good to command men who are sworn to die under your commmand to the same fate. If it is good to recieve a wound in defense, it is good to allow a fraction of the men in your command to die. The two are as one - strategy for a single duel holds the matter of strategy of battle within it, as the plum tree grows from the plum stone. The commander cannot fear for the deaths of men, for that is his business, to command men to die. Nor can he fear for the lives of men, for it his his business, to perseve men from death when it is prudent to do so. Rashness in a samurai and rashness in battle are as one danger - the samurai does not fear death, but he does not embrace it to no end. He is sworn to his Clan, his Family, and his Honor, and these are his objectives."
Yokuni placed the fan in Daini's hand. "You recieve this, but you carry the burden only to one who will use it wisely. I will not tell you whom, for it is in the surrendering of this burden that you will prove your mettle for receiving it. Choose wisely, and a road of glory will be won. Choose poorly, and the ending of the age may be upon us."
Daini looked at the thing in his hand with longing, and an anger veiled his eyes with shadow. Yokuni went on, "You will lead the Dragon from the mountains, to surrender it to whomever you deem worthy. I have selected those who will follow; the daimyo of the Mirumoto has led her armies south into the lands of the Dragonfly; you will take your armies to the west of her, and there begin your search. I have instructed the monks of Togashi as to their duties, and they will follow their instructions."
"Lord," Daini said, his voice controlled and tight, "where do we go? What need to we have of armies?"
"The Empire is at war. The Dragon is rising, to defend the Empire."
Daini's head bowed, in honor or defeat Kesuan could not tell, as Yokuni stood. He held his hand up in a strange gesture of benediction. "There is no death. There is no failure. There is only victory for those who have strength and purpose. We are the Dragon. We have strength. We have purpose. We will bring Victory home."
Yokuni turned and left the room, leaving the monks in the silence with which they had entered.
Daini stared at the fan in his hand, and the burden in his shoulders was not one of pride, but of shame.