"You see, Commander," Akira said, his deep voice carrying across the quiet storehouse. "I told you my wife was dangerous."
I stood there, a smudge of turnip dirt on my cheek and an ink brush in my hand, staring at the Warlord of the North.
Quartermaster Koji was still bowing on the floor. Commander Tomoe just laughed, a booming, hearty sound that echoed off the high wooden rafters.
"She is a terror with a ledger, My Lord," Tomoe grinned, slapping her armored hand against the doorframe. "I'll leave you two. Koji, get up. You have rations to distribute."
Tomoe hauled the weeping, grateful quartermaster to his feet and dragged him out into the corridor, sliding the heavy wooden doors shut behind them.
Suddenly, the massive storehouse felt very quiet.
Akira pushed off the doorframe and walked slowly down the center aisle. He stopped right in front of me. He didn't look at the perfectly stacked crates of iron arrowheads or the neatly organized sacks of grain. He only looked at me.
