A few days after their encounter with the former Truist Sage, Kondo and Doctor Mori at last came to the edge of the valley in which sat the city known reverentially as the Old Capital. Night had fallen, and the city below emanated a vibrant light, like a star in the midst of a dark void. They knew that the light was the amalgamation of thousands of evening lanterns, torches, braziers, and personal lamps that combined to create the comforting hue. Even this late in the year, the light seemed to dim not at all. If anything, it was growing stronger as the New Year approached.

  Both drew their cloaks about them, for on the heights it was still quite old, and even in this valley, where snow came infrequently, gentle flakes began to flit across the sky. Kondo had bought two heavy cloaks the day before, in a small, lakeside village that he alone passed through, to obtain supplies. The cloaks would have been useful on their long journey to the Old Capital, for though they had not met any enemies along the road, the winter air chilled them to the bone and worsened Mori’s cough.

  Predictably, Kondo had another purpose for the heavy cloaks. He wanted them for anonymity. It would not be odd for travelers to don cloaks in such weather, even if the valley of the Old Capital was traditionally more temperate. They could easily conceal themselves in the heavy fabric, and the oversized hoods would shield their faces from view.

  The goal was to travel through the Old Capital as quickly as possible. However, they did require some information that would prolong their stay. Mori needed to obtain an updated location of the Truist Congregation in order to find it expeditiously. Kondo and the doctor debated going into the Middle Country directly and hoping that the Truists would find them, but eventually Mori’s reasoning prevailed.

  “If there are evil men after me, then wandering about in the wilds does not seem wise. There is a precinct in the Old Capital that communicates regularly with the congregation.

  They would know best of their movements and plans.”

  Kondo eventually conceded. This seemed well-reasoned. However, every moment inside the Old Capital increased their risk of being caught. The bounty on Mori’s head would undoubtedly be large, and it would attract many desperate men. He knew all too well the extent that bounty hunters would go to obtain their captives, for he had done that very thing himself.

  “A part of me feels like this is a trap,” Kondo thought. “But I have considered all other options. It is easier to hear a whisper in a quiet village than a boisterous thoroughfare, it is said.”

  Therefore, they made their way down the winding road toward the Old Capital, and as they did so, the illumination grew ever stronger, as did the noise and traffic. Even at this late hour, people were coming and going, almost as if it were daytime. Most were getting ready to enjoy the nighttime revelries that the city had to offer, and so they moved along at a rapacious pace.

  “The precinct should be on the eastern side of the city,” Mori explained, adjusting his cloak’s hood. “I visited the place once before, but it has been many years since I have visited this city.”

  “Fortunately, I have been here a few times since you have,” Kondo said with assurance. “I know the location of the precinct of which you speak.” He directed the horse by its reins, while Mori sat atop the cart. Within an hour, they passed over one of the seven bridges that would lead them into the Old Capital itself. What the city seemed to lack in modernity, it certainly made up for in lore and history. Aged temples, traditional estates, and fortifications of a bygone era remained and were still plentiful.

  The landmark that they sought was a precinct with a seven-tier pagoda. This might have seemed easy enough, but as Kondo inspected the eastern skyline, he could see several pagodas rising tall amidst the eastern side of the city.

  They made their way down one of the lanes that ran alongside a charming canal. Alongside the canal, there was a row of cherry trees that seemed to go on for miles. Kondo imagined how beautiful they might have looked in the height of spring, when their pink flowers were in full bloom. Now, however, their leaves were bare, and their branches reached up to the sky like outstretched fingers.

  As they went along, they could see that of the few pagodas in the distance, only one was seven-storied. They remained on the busy thoroughfare for a few more minutes, but as they drew closer, Kondo led Mori’s horse to the right, and they proceeded down a dark side street, which was only lit by the dim lights of the houses on either side.

  “Be on your guard,” whispered Kondo. “If anyone has spotted us, they would wait until we are alone.”

  Mori nodded his head but remained quiet.

  Kondo could sense his fear and anxiety, but all he could do was remain calm. “If I panic, then he will panic, and we can’t have that,” he thought.

  From the quiet road, they came again to a thoroughfare, this one less busy than the previous. This was one of the easternmost roads of the Old Capital, and many precincts made their home here, spreading eastward towards the hills that encircled the city.

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  The seven-storied pagoda now loomed over them, but they could not yet see its base, for the temple was surrounded by an ancient stone wall, which rose twice as tall as a man. A flight of stone stars led upwards to the central gate, which was shut, but illuminated by two lit torches, one on each side of the gate itself. This was the so-called Sho-in, the temple that old Mori had sought to visit.

  Kondo pulled the horse aside and helped the doctor down. His keen eyes flashed as he looked about the street, but he could see nothing that appeared threatening or out of the ordinary.

  As previously agreed, Mori ascended the steps first, and Kondo trailed him, stepping backwards to cover their rear. When Mori came to the gate, he knocked thrice and then awaited a response. It took a minute or so, but eventually the two wooden doors of the gate were slowly opened to reveal a Truist initiate.

  Mori whispered a few key passwords, and he was then permitted to enter. However, the Truist initiate would not suffer Kondo to enter the grounds.

  “This place is for our people only,” the stern man said. “I am sorry, but even if he is a friend, he must stay behind if he is not one of us.”

  This infuriated Kondo, but Mori had forewarned that this might be the case. “Peace, my friend. I will not be long,” he said calmly.

  Kondo nodded stiffly and then glared at the Truist beyond the great doors, but the initiate merely ignored him. Mori proceeded inside, and then the gate was once again shut.

  The swordsman waited outside the doors for several moments, admiring their craftsmanship. “Such works are rarely seen these days,” he thought to himself. He then proceeded down the steps, but instead of waiting at the cart, he turned around and sprinted towards the stone walls. Though his strength had been steadily returning, he barely made it up to the top of the southern wall, and it took him at least a minute to recover his strength.

  Once he had rested enough, he crept along the southern wall until it turned east and then followed it that way. The top of the walls was just wide enough for two feet, and so he was able to scurry about with good speed. He could see Mori, in the center of the precinct, following the initiate through an impressive garden and over a curved wooden bridge. At the base of the pagoda, which he could now see from his vantage, three elder monks were awaiting them.

  When Kondo felt he had the ideal vista from which to observe, he knelt and remained deathly still like a gargoyle.

  Doctor Mori and the monk from the gate eventually came to the three others at the base of the pagoda, and they began to speak. Kondo had hoped that Mori remembered that time was pressing, but he allowed for old men and their idle prattle. After several minutes of animated discussion, the group grew still and became more rigid in their posture. It was likely that they had come to the matter of Mori and the late Shōgun. Mori seemed to have the floor at this juncture, and after several more minutes, the monks conferred among each other and then broke apart. The look of joy upon Mori’s weathered face signified that they had believed his innocence. At last, the time to discuss the matter of the Truist Congregation should begin.

  Kondo shifted slightly. His eyes had been drawn to the conference of monks, but he was suddenly reminded of another whom he had meant to observe.

  “Where had that initiate gone off to?” he wondered, as his eyes scanned about the courtyard and garden.

  He eventually found the initiate back at his original position near the entrance. However, instead of standing guard or keeping watch, the initiate was unlocking the gate once again.

  “Now who could that be?” thought Kondo, though his heart began to sink in his chest.

  At that moment, many things started to happen at once. Three men, garbed in black, pushed in from the entrance. The third of these, the one last to enter, strode in and then stabbed the initiate in the chest with his sword. Two more black figures had climbed the outer wall, the one across from Kondo, and had jumped down into the courtyard and were sprinting towards the monks. The monks, sensing danger, fled towards the pagoda’s doors, but another man in black came forth from the entrance, barring their way.

  “It can’t be!” Kondo hissed. “These are ninja of the Shin-Shadowhand!” But before he was able to decide what to do, he felt a presence come up beside him to the right. He was suddenly face to face with a ninja who had ascended the wall and had not seen him, at least not initially. The ninja looked over at him with perplexity.

  “Wait, the Shin-Shadowhand always moves in symmetry whenever possible,” Kondo thought. “That would mean…” but he did not have time to finish this thought, for another ninja, coming up from his left, struck him in the back of his head with the hilt of his blade, which sent him tumbling backwards into a black abyss below.

  Kondo arose sometime later, but how long it had been he could not tell. Luckily for him, thick turf had helped to break his fall. His injuries still ached worse than they had in days, but the newest blow to his head hurt worst of all. His mind was hazy and uncentered. He groped the ground and then pushed himself up, but had to cling to the wall for balance. He stood there for several minutes, steadying himself, until he could finally walk. He made his way back to the entrance of the precinct, and though the gate was shut, he pushed the doors open and they moved for him. The body of the initiate lay prostrate on the ground, and a pool of blood spread from him and stained the wood of the threshold.

  Kondo staggered forward and passed through the garden and courtyard unmolested. When he reached the entrance to the pagoda, he saw no one but did observe that some blood had been spilled where the monks had once congregated.

  He turned around and surveyed the entire courtyard, searching for even one living soul. “They are all gone,” he concluded after a few moments.

  Then he looked directly overhead and observed the position of the moon and the stars in the sky. He quickly realized that it had not been so long since they had come to this temple.

  “An hour or two,” he mused. “Not long, but too long in a city like this. Now, where could they have taken him?”

  As Kondo was based in the New Capital, he did not know where the Shin-Shadowhand had their hideout in this city.

  “But there may be someone who knows,” he whispered to himself.

  With that, he moved in the direction of the gate, his steps growing faster with each moment.