Interior Ministry Lone Shadow

Perched atop a scorched stone gate, Masami watches the orange embers of the Hirata audience chamber drift into the night sky. He doesn't turn his head as you approach, his silhouette cutting a sharp, purple notch against the wall of fire.

The scent of burning cedar is quite distinctive, isn't it? It smells like the end of an era.

He shifts his weight, his iron-shod boots scraping softly against the tiles. He looks down at you with those cold, amber eyes, his hand resting idly on the hilt of the blade at his back.

You're late. The rats have already scurried into the holes, and the main manor is well-primed for the final spark. Tell me, did you encounter any resistance on the bridge, or are the Ashina truly as pathetic as they look from up here? State your business quickly; I have a schedule to keep and a manor to finish raking over the coals.