Once long ago in the land where peace, love, and harmony dwelled, a just and kind emperor ruled the land with a gentle, warm hand. Justice and mercy were held in his right and his left hand, and no one questioned him. He was wise, and he showed generosity to the lowest of the low, and his intelligence brought the great prosperity all over the country. Wealth and comfort flourished, nothing was greater than the happiness that dwelled in their realm. The people loved the all mighty emperor; they could not ask for a better ruler to guide them in the way of life. 

His wife was known for her beauty and grace. Her voice was like those of a nightingale, and like her beloved husband, had wisdom and intelligence, but she was also known for her wits and knowledge. Day and night she weaves fine threads of silk, turning them into the finest cloth in all of the Land of the Rising Sun only fit for the royal and the noble. She was similar to the man in so many ways. In fact, they got along so well, they often acted like friends. It was so strange, but they loved each other very much.

The land's people also loved his four sons who also were just as kind and wise as their father, each specialised in their own gifts like business, wisdom and philosophy, the arts, and even music.

The eldest was an intelligent young man who often assisted in the business welfares of the country and was the overseer in the architecture and design of the kingdom. People saw him as the ruler's right hand man. The second son also was a brilliant man who was a member of the council involved in the general welfare for the people. He made sure that the councilmen would refrain from any form of corruption, and those who even displayed the slightest sign of greed was not tolerated and are removed from authority. The third son was the finest soldier in the army, in fact, he was the head general who was greatly respected for his skills in leading his soldiers and in fighting with a sword. He was a known lady killer though. 

Then unlike his brothers who involved themselves with the public affairs of the Land of the Rising Sun, the youngest was a mere poet and storyteller. He was the quietest amongst his brothers, and his works were an image of his fantasizing mind. Not only was he an artist but he was also a brilliant musician with an ear for the songs of the wind. Actually, he proved himself as a prodigy. He was a mathematician and an astrologist, as well as a philosopher. 

Each were special in their father's eyes, and there was only one thing that they were on par with: the way of the sword. As legend has it, it was the only thing they had in common aside from sharing the same parents. It was also the only thing they had unlike their father, who was a man of peace and wise converse, they were natural warriors with the sword and together they formed the seven virtues that every true warrior must follow, the code of the warrior: rectitude or justice, courage, benevolence, respect, honesty, loyalty, and finally, honor.

With these seven virtues, they ruled the country together.

Despite the fact that he hated war and he saw that the sword should never be raised or removed from it's scabbard, the emperor loved his sons very much and saw them as his greatest treasure. He would never think of giving them up, even for the sake of the country. To him, they were like shining stars in the sky, shining their light throughout the heavens.

However, just like any tale, the time came when the emperor's rule came to an end.

* * * * * * * *

A cry of pain escaped her lips as the woman gets forcefully thrown onto the wet, muddy ground. Though tired and beaten, she didn't dare raise her head to even take a look at her captors. Not one word of curse was said, neither was a look of hate or resentment painted on her face. She barely had any clothing, all she had now were her tattered kimono that hardly even remained intact. It was bloodstained as well, soaked in her own blood. 

Drops of rain pounded on her head and shoulders, which drenched her to the core. The blood from the woman's clothing slowly joined the water on the muddy ground. Its red color combined with the murky mud. The wind was gentle, yet it shook everything in its path without mercy. Trees all around them swayed to the wind, their green leaves swirling around the air. Thunder roared across the dark, gloomy, gray skies, and lightning flashed its blinding light. It illuminated the anger in the old man's eyes. They were cold, yet they burned hotter than fire.

He was a man of tall, muscular stature. Without a doubt he was a born soldier. The hairs on his head were growing gray from age, but the burning passion in his eyes were just as they were when he was still young. The old man wore a haori of white as pure as snow, adorned with golden ornaments that resembled a fierce dragon on the back. Its jaws wide and ready to swallow anything in its path. Somehow it resembled the man. He also wore a white keikogi under his haori and black hakama. On his side was his katana still in its scabbard.

With him were his men, all dressed in their haori with a white dragon symbol on their backs. And just like him, they had anger and disgust in their eyes. But at the same time, they had sympathy. They were sympathizing with the poor woman in their midst. Some were even skeptical about their leader.

"Do you have any last words, woman?" the old man asks, placing his hands on his sword. One of the men came forward with his hands on the scabbard and handle, but stepped back when he saw his leader raised his hand.

The young woman before him kept her eyes to the ground.

She could feel her eyes moisten, her tears forming on the sides of her eyes. They soon streamed down on her cheeks, but her eyes remained strong and steadfast. The woman persevered through this moment of trial and suffering. Even with her eyes to the ground, she kept her head high like a noble.

"No, sir. I have no more words to say. Just let me join my husband."

Hearing this, the man swiftly removes his sword from its scabbard and swings.

~~~

Number of words: 1280

This chapter is dedicated to my dear friend Nashoba! She has been waiting for this book since forever and I am honored to dedicate this to her. I hope you liked the prologue, El! <33

OMG. OMG. OMG. I actually finally posted The Mourning Samurai, sweeeeeeeeeet. You guys can't believe how excited I have been to post this book. I've thought of the story since June, and not once have I forgotten about it. I'm more than thrilled to bring you guys through another adventure of action, mystery, and romance, lol. Hahaha, good luck to you all and thank you for reading this! 

Although I can't promise consecutive weekly updates because of school. Not to mention that I still have Terror In Resonance to take care of. The only thing I could promise is that I'll do my best writing this story :D

Please comment what you think. The one who posts the best comment gets a chapter dedication :3

- R