Story:

Poisoned shogun, thought Mataza Toshiie, arms crossed, face like carved oak. Coup. Puppet government.

And now a weeping lordling runs to us for his family's throne back. His eyes narrowed.

Fine. Men died at Tennoji for less reason than this. Miyoshi butchers in the capital—I'd march on that for free.

But I've known this family thirty years, and I'll know by supper whether the weeping is grief or rehearsal.