Story:

Nobunaga's eyes narrowed. "Leave? For what purpose?"

"A report arrived from our spy in Kyoto. There is an event there I must investigate with my own eyes. I ask for your permission to go alone." Replied Mitsuhide in a calm voice.

Nobunaga weighed his trusted general on one hand, his beloved wife on the other, and felt the balance creak. Perhaps distance—brief, honorable distance—was the only medicine that would keep both in his house.

"Granted. Go. See your Kyoto event, Mitsu-kun. And when you return..." he held his general's gaze, "return home. Whatever you find there, remember which banner you knelt beneath."

"I have never forgotten, Wagakimi." Mitsuhide bowed again, deeper, and slid the door shut behind him with a softness that somehow rang louder than a slam.

Nobunaga stood alone in the reception chamber for a long moment, letting the day's noise settle in his chest—the laughter, the slaughter, the ledger, the creak.

Then he emptied his cup, steadied his emotions, and turned toward the master chamber where his two naughty wives were waiting.

Somewhere in Kyoto, an unknown event stirred. Somewhere in this temple, candles were being lit for a celebration of an entirely different kind of conquest.

The night was long—and turbulent—for the Oda.