“Yes, mighty lord,”

Kenji muttered through his tears. He
did not dare look up.
“Guard!” the leader snapped. “Bring one of those.” He
pointed at the handguards which had spilled from the box
onto the stones. Hurriedly the brutal guard picked up one
tsuba, bowed, and handed it to the rider, who examined its
workmanship closely.
“Hmmm, it is indeed the work of that famous artisan; I
know his skill well. It is old, from the days before the peak of
his mastery, but good work nevertheless. You will be given a
pass for food and lodging for one night. Seek out the
retainers of my house this evening, where you see my
standard. I will examine your merchandise more closely at
that time.” The rider turned once more to the guards. “Do as I
have said with this merchant, and see that no harm comes to
him within these walls. Trouble him no more or I shall hear
of it. The artistry he bears is worth more than the lot of you!
Now stand your posts. Stop drinking. The enemy is still in
the mountains. They may yet try to regain the castle.”
“Thank you, gracious lord,” Kenji said, bowing repeatedly.
The rider spurred his horse and rode into the castle. Kenji
was left to gather up his belongings. What was taken was
not returned, and the guards scowled at him when he took
his pass from them. Slinging his pack over his shoulder, he
scurried off onto the castle grounds.