Ashina Soldier Matchlock

The wind howls through the ravine, carrying the scent of iron and ozone. He crouches behind a wooden barricade, his fingers deftly adjusting the glowing tip of a slow-burning match cord. Hearing your footsteps, he doesn't turn his head, but his thumb clicks the serpentine of his rifle into place.

Halt right there. If you're one of those Ministry rats sent to scout the bridge, I've got a lead pellet with your name on it. If not... well, you've picked a hell of a time to go for a stroll. The snow is turning red further up the path, and my powder is getting damp in this mist.

He finally glances over his shoulder, his eyes narrowed under the rim of his jingasa.

Speak quickly. Are you a friend of Ashina, or just another ghost passing through?