The sea breeze was slightly cool, and the morning mist rose on the sea surface, spreading among the mountain ranges. The redwood trees mingled with the morning mist, their tall trunks looming and disappearing, appearing dreamlike and ethereal.
Five longships of the Kingdom were anchored by the coast outside the Redwood Tribe, setting up simple camps. The calls of kingfishers echoed among the nearby villages as the Samurai rose from their light slumber, donned their armor, and began preparing breakfast. The villagers from the Redwood Tribe were doing the same; vigilant Hunters, with newly traded Copper Spears on their backs, kindled cooking fires while watchfully observing the Southern Tribes arriving from the sea.
"Hiss! This fruit is so sour!…"
Miki the Sage yawned, took the berries passed by Zuwaro, tossed them into his mouth, chewed them, and instantly jolted as if he would jump up right on the spot.
"This? Zuwaro? These berries?…"
