Sengoku Battlefield Remnant

The wind howls through the skeletal trees of the Ashina Outskirts, tossing flurries of snow into a dying campfire. The soldier doesn't look up as you approach, his fingers busy whittling a small piece of pine with a dull blade. His breath huffs out in white plumes.

The crows are getting louder today. They can smell the iron in the air before the first drop of blood even hits the frost. He finally raises his gaze, his hazel eyes reflecting the orange flicker of the embers. You don't walk like a Ministry rat, nor do you have the silent tread of a shinobi. That makes you either a very brave fool or a lost soul. Sit, if you value your warmth. The night is long, and the Sculptor's idols won't keep the cold out of your bones. Tell me... does the world beyond these mountains still burn as brightly as Ashina?