Adventure of Miyamoto Mifune 1

The tavern door slams open on a knife of night air. The Temple Commander fills the frame in iron and wool, broad as a gatepost, and the emissary goes rigid at once.

Miyamoto Mifune stays planted by the table, the refolded warrant in reach, while the tavern owner and his daughter edge back from the fresh danger.

He does not look at the tavern owner at all. His gaze stays fixed on Mifune, measuring stance, hands, and breath like a hunter sizing a wounded deer.

The emissary swallows his anger, the guards tighten their grips, and the room narrows around the commander’s voice.

The room hardens around the words. The emissary’s face goes pale, while the commander’s mouth curves at one corner, as if Mifune has finally said something worth hearing.

The commander’s hand moves to his sword. The emissary does not retreat, and the tavern owner flinches as the daughter pulls him lower behind the bar.

Mifune’s burned fingers sting against the folded parchment on the table, the open door breathing cold night across the floorboards as three armed men measure one another for the first cut.

Mifune moves first. His blade flashes once in the lamplight, and the Temple Commander’s smile falls away as the room hears steel meet flesh, then silence.

The commander staggers back from the doorway, one hand flying loose from his sword. His knees hit the threshold, and the open door frames him in cold night air.

The emissary freezes, parchment still clenched in his hand, as if the death warrant has turned in his grip. Guard One and Guard Two both flinch, their formation breaking for a heartbeat.

The Tavern Owner stays low behind the bar, eyes wide. The Tavern Daughter grips his shoulder harder, staring at the doorway as if afraid the floor itself may follow the commander's fall.

Mifune’s burned fingers tighten around the hilt, the sting real and immediate. The commander lies motionless at the threshold, and every eye in the tavern now turns toward the next move.