"🎶Man's fifty years, compared to the life of a dweller in the lower heavens, is but a fleeting dream and illusion...🎶" Amidst the sharp, haunting melody of the nokan, a noh-gaku-shi from Yamato Province pressed on with his chant upon the hon-butai at the center of the Ninomaru’s kensho. Atsumori was already a tragic tale, but with the actor adorned in a pale, expressionless mask, he loomed all the more like a spectral ghost. The crowd sat in formal seiza at their seats, listening with bated breath; not a single soul dared to cough. Directly opposite them, at the gozasho, a monkey-faced old man sat solitary beneath a shimmering golden folding screen. With both hands resting limply upon the kyosoku, he was nodding off, utterly deaf to the desolate strains of the chant. This old man is none other than the current "Taiko," Toyotomi Hideyoshi—the man who single-handedly brought the chaotic Sengoku era to a close, rising from the humble roots of a peasant to become the practical ruler of all Japan. Following the pacification of the feudal lords, he tirelessly erected this fortress in Kyushu—Nagoya Castle, as grand and imposing as Osaka Castle itself—to serve as his command center for the conquest of the continent. Alas, since the year before last, his kin have passed away in quick succession: first his brother Hidenaga, then his beloved son Tsurumaru, and most recently, his mother Omandokoro has also departed this world. Besieged by military affairs and battered by these successive losses, Hideyoshi’s spirit has withered visibly, and a prominent age spot has recently surfaced upon his forehead. At this moment, a samurai stepped forward with haste, signaling to the shite performing on stage. The noh-gaku-shi ceased his utai chant mid-sentence. Inwardly, a breath of relief was drawn by all: critical military intelligence from Joseon had arrived; all those uninvolved were ordered to withdraw at once. "Is that you, Mitsunari?" Hideyoshi asked, his head still slumped forward. Ishida Mitsunari assumed his position at the gedan and spoke with grave solemnity: "My apologies, my Lord Taiko, for disturbing your precious moments of respite." "Joseon... how fares the campaign?" "The reports are exceedingly voluminous; pray, permit me to present the full account on the morrow." Mitsunari’s tone softened. "I implore you to rest early, my Lord Taiko. The toll of these past two years has begun to manifest clearly upon your countenance." "The campaign... it is not faring well, is it?" Hideyoshi finally opened his eyes, studying Mitsunari with his clouded, turbid gaze. Mitsunari pressed his head even lower, his forehead nearly grazing the cold tatami. "The Lord Taiko is indeed far-sighted. It is my humble conviction that seeking a peace settlement with Ming and Joseon at the earliest possible moment remains our best course of action!" Hideyoshi heaved a soundless sigh, massaging his increasingly bare temples. "This... I shall deliberate on it further... Setting that aside, go and summon Tachibana-dono to me." Mitsunari looked up in utter consternation. Tachibana-dono was the wife of the great general Tachibana Muneshige, born by the name Ginchiyo. Muneshige was currently away on the Korean campaign. Like the other generals dispatched to the peninsula, their families were gathered in the castle town of Nagoya—a clear, unspoken form of surveillance. Yet, for the Taiko to summon Tachibana-dono at such an hour... "Lord Taiko, it is already late in the night," Mitsunari implored. "I beg you to preserve your noble health and retire for the night!" "You need not concern yourself with my affairs!" Hideyoshi, just now the image of exhaustion, was suddenly seized by an inexplicable surge of fury. He snatched the cane resting by his side and hurled it toward Mitsunari, catching the retainer completely off guard as it clattered toward him. Mitsunari dared not utter another word and hastily took his leave. Half an hour later, he stood before the gates of the Tachibana residence.