KUNSHU MUJIHINA’S FOOTSTEPS ECHOED THROUGH THE HALLS as he approached his throne room. Guards stood posted beside the entrance, moving to the sides of the door as their emperor made his way onward. Kunshu threw the doors open to be greeted to a room, empty of other people except for his second-in-command, Shirei Akui, and a string quartet.

Kunshu instructed that each musician in his court wear a black face mask that was otherwise featureless. They also donned black suits with red trims and pauldrons, with the first violinist and cellist wearing a cape as they sat on opposite ends of the horseshoe formation they performed in. The masks, however, were a particularly important aspect of the uniform for Kunshu. These musicians would need to perform their best if they were to keep their jobs. Any error in their emperor’s court could cost them their lives.

With this in mind, once Kunshu snapped his fingers, acting as the cue to begin playing their music, the result was a very mechanical performance of an otherwise lively piece. All of the people in the string quartet had heard of what had happened whenever a musician missed a note, and they had also known that Kunshu’s ear was nearly as strong as his blade. To prevent befalling the same fate, each musician agreed to play the music exactly as notated, lacking any rubato or dynamic shifts that were not on the page.

“Shirei!” Kunshu called out, his second-in-command walking toward the right side of his throne.

“You called, my liege?” Shirei answered, unwavering in the face of such a foreboding figure.

“I have a task I need you to carry out,” Kunshu announced.

“I am always at your disposal, my lord.”

“Which is what I find so honorable about you,” the emperor of Aotoshi continued. “There’s a town to the west called Shirotaun. I wish for you and your men to make an example of these people.”

“Shirotaun, my lord?” Shirei piped up. “That is in Akuni.”

“I fail to see the issue.”

“Would this not be a declaration of war?”

“I am aware of the implications of this act,” Kunshu began, “but Yokina doesn’t need to get involved. If we keep things under wraps, we can carry this out with little controversy.”

“Very well then,” Shirei nodded. “Do you have the address?”

“Of course,” Kunshu confirmed as he handed Shirei a small note. “You shall be rewarded upon your success. You are dismissed, Commander Akui.”

Shirei began to leave the room.

“One more thing,” his only higher-up added. “Do not harm any of the residents. I shall deal with them myself.”

“Understood.”

Once the doors closed behind Shirei, the sound of the string quartet chugging away at the music in front of them had taken an unexpected turn. The cello player, having gotten too comfortable with the legato passage, finished the phrase on a note that was slightly lower, but low enough from the intended note that the consonance of the passage was broken. After that, the cello part went completely silent as a dagger found itself plunged into the performer’s chest. The other three stopped playing soon after, not sure of how to continue without a bass part due to the fermata in the current bar, which the cello would have taken them out of. Kunshu dismissed the other three musicians with a grunt.