Chapter - 3

Miyamoto Musashi stepped outside his room and was confronted by a large, fully armed guard. Musashi stopped dead in his tracks. The guard was wearing full-length leather armour, which increased his already impressive size.
“For your protection,” explained the young servant. “He is Lord Sato’s best man.”
Musashi shot the servant a worried look. “I did not realise I was in any danger.”
“It’s merely a precaution,” the servant assured. “Now, if you’ll please follow me this way.”
Musashi looked at the guard. He stood tall and staunch as if he were some immovable object. Lord Sato seemed to have put his entire residence on full alert. Musashi began to notice other servants rushing anxiously past them in the hallway.
He grabbed one of them by the arm, an old woman. “What’s wrong? Why is everyone acting so edgy?”
The old woman had the look of fear in her eyes “The Clan,” she stammered. “They are here.”
The young servant sent the old woman on her way. “Ignore her. She is exaggerating. No one is here. The security of this residence is second to none. Now please, we must go.”
Musashi followed the servant escorted by the large guard. They walked down the hallway past more servants. All of them scattering about like rats fleeing a sinking ship. They ascended three flights of stairs; on every level Samurai patrolled, dressed ready for battle. Ready for whatever force would attempt to lay siege.
The house was in total lockdown. It’s guardians on high alert.
The piece of paper, the young servant had given Musashi was still in his hand. He read it one more time.

Itto Isamu is dead. The Clan is back.

Again, Musashi did not believe what he read. Itto Isamu was the most powerful Kensai Master in the land.
How did he die?
The answer to this question was a frightening one. And one that Musashi did not fully understand.
Musashi had only heard about the Clan through stories told by older Samurai. The old Samurai would rant on about wars that raged for centuries without end, wars between the Kensai and the Clan.
Musashi had always thought they were making up the stories to scare little children. A story that was no doubt exaggerated each time it was told. This was apparently not the case.
Now, as Musashi stared at a piece of paper claiming that ‘the Clan is back’ he started to feel a strange sensation. One he had not felt in a long time.
Fear.
He decided to make small talk in an attempt to calm his nerves. “So, what is your name?” Musashi asked the servant.
“Akira.”
“Nice to meet you Akira. Mind telling me where we are going?”
“The observation room. It has excellent views of the surrounding terrain. It is where Lord Sato plans all his strategic manoeuvres,” responded Akira.
Strategic Manoeuvres?
It sounded like Lord Sato was preparing for battle. Musashi did not want to be involved. He was no longer a Samurai. He was a Ronin. He answered to no one.
The trio arrived at a large sliding door. Akira promptly slid it open and then fell to his knees, his face pressed against the floor.
Inside Lord Sato Okinaga was pacing back and forth surrounded by a dozen of fierce looking Samurai. One of them was trying to explain something that sounded like a plan of attack but Okinaga ignored him.
The guard that had escorted Musashi stepped forward and reported. “Lord Sato, we have delivered Miyamoto Musashi as requested,” he said matter of factly.
Lord Sato stopped pacing and looked up. He was an intimidating man, strong, decisive and a cunning leader. He earned the respect of his Samurai through leading by example. He was renowned for his exploits on the battlefield. Tonight however, he looked noticeably spooked. His eyes, usually sharp, were full of indecision. At the moment he was dressed in his black battle armour. He carried his katana and short sword at his side. His left hand rested on them as he strode towards Musashi.
“Welcome Miyamoto,” he announced in a deep authoritative voice that hid his fear well. “I trust you have read the note my servant delivered to you.”
Musashi bowed. “I have Lord Sato, although I fail to see why this concerns me?”
“You must understand,” Okinaga said, his tone becoming serious. “This concerns all of us.”
Musashi wasn’t buying it. He decided to get to the bottom of this right now. “The note, I have some reservations about its authenticity. May I ask who delivered it?” “Miyamoto Musashi,” Okinaga said, pausing to emphasize the importance of the matter “The message was delivered by Itto Isamu himself.”