Dust darkens the biting frost wind; the mournful sound of horns and drums stirs.
Beacon fires throw the banners into chaos; across mountains and rivers, home is but a dream.
*Notes
(1) This is a work in progress. I have only found the inspiration; I won't start writing it until years from now.
(2) A serious tone, with a happy ending.
(3) Every character has eight hundred schemes up their sleeve.
(4) My writing skills are limited. I scribble nonsense like a madman, so if that's not for you, please don't read.
Premise: Cultivate the self and discipline the heart.
