It was night in the war camp, although the preponderance of torches throughout the small temple that had been co-opted for the army’s use rendered the distinction moot as long as one was within its walls. Hida Kuon sat before the alter, unmoving, as he had for several hours now. The low chanting tone of his kinsman, Kuni Daigo, had long since fallen into the background, barely noticed. Kuon divided his time with prayers to his ancestors and thoughts of his family. It was painful to dwell upon them too long. “Of course,” Daigo said. Kuon glanced up at the priest in surprise. “Oh?”