Two weeks had passed, and every day they had trained. Their coffers swelled with coin. The province united under him. The governors made their journeys, and knelt in front of him, pledging their loyalty. The land was consolidated, and all knew of Gengyo's triumphs. New recruits flocked, and their army grew, growing to over ten thousand men, though those five thousand new recruits were still unblooded.

Their army could hardly fit in the palace courtyard anymore. When the new men arrived, they were immediately thrown into training and given their equipment. If they could not keep up, then pain would motivate them.

Jikouji had them all practising with the spear, wearing them into a sweat. The black armour was heavy on their backs, and the sun was ruthless. They were walking furnaces. Gengyo had spent much of the morning watching them, until a servant had arrived and bowed before him, bearing a scroll within his hand.

He'd taken it from him and stretched the parchment open, already knowing who it might have been from. With the black and yellow Oda flower printed before everything else, it was not difficult to tell. His eyes traced down the page as he raced past several characters, praying for good news.

"Damn it," Gengyo cursed, crunching it into a ball inside his fist.

"The Oda?" Jikouji enquired, joining him in the shade, leaving the men to stand in formation, their yari's upright on their right-hand sides. The old man would always find ways to forget about them and make them wait.

"Unfortunately," Gengyo replied, heaving a sigh, attempting to put his frustration aside. "Nobunaga's negotiations with the Saito failed. He'll only be joining us with three thousand men."

"It was a bit of a stretch in the first place, was it not? The two of them have been warring for years. It was the Viper that he had a chance with, not the son," Jikouji reasoned, stroking his beard.

"Nobunaga assured me that conquest would be enough to bring the Saito to our side. I'd inclined myself to believe him," Gengyo said dryly, scratching his head. The Oda Nobunaga he knew was a monster. A terrifyingly capable man. But this Nobunaga that he'd spent weeks exchanging correspondence with… he was almost awkward. "Perhaps I offered the gift of land too early. He doesn't want to play all his cards in my support. I've blundered, by the looks of it."

"Nonsense. You have no reason to doubt yourself. We can still cut ties with him. After what he saw on the battlefield, he will think twice before crossing us. Set it from your mind," Jikouji said, patting him on the shoulder, attempting to cheer him up. "Allow me to show you what your army is capable of."

Gengyo gestured with his hand with uncharacteristic impatience, allowing the old man to do as he pleased. It frustrated him even more to know that he'd allowed Nobunaga to irritate him. Calm, that was what he knew. He sucked in a breath of air and closed his eyes, leaning against that stone pillar. Only once he was calm did he open them again.

Jikouji had made his way to the edge of the steps, his hands folded behind his back, and his twin swords sheathed at his hip. Ten thousand men were looking towards him intently. "This," he began, his single word igniting a sea of action, as the men brought their right foot in and slammed it down on the ground by their spear, coming to attention, "should be considered a test. You will show your worth to Miura-dono, and you will not make a single mistake."

From general to foot soldier, they were all at Jikouji's complete mercy, all of them armoured in a deep black, with a spear twice their size standing at their side. It was the beginner's weapon, Jikouji told them. Only once they had mastered it would he teach them individual swordsmanship.

"COMPANY DIVISION! FORM UP!" Jikouji barked, his voice echoing around the courtyard. Serving girls carrying baskets of dirty laundry paused to spectate and merchants stook their heads up over the low wall.

Their discipline was extraordinary. They moved like a collective. The metre gap between them vanished. There was only a space between each row. They stood shoulder to shoulder in squares a hundred men strong, each headed by a captain. Ten of these squares were given to each general, and they stood at the front, just a metre out from their men, taking the command.

This time, when Jikouji spoke, the generals echoed his order. "SPEAR WALL!"

"SPEAR WALL!" The generals called after him.

"SPEAR WALL!" The captains echoed, and just like that, an order from the commanding general was given and carried out by troops mere seconds later. Wooden sandals clattered a threatening rhythm against the stone floor, and the space between each row disappeared. They slipped together, with spears held out over the top, so that men several rows back could still cause damage. It was a solid and immovable wall – a cavalryman's nightmare.

Gengyo was smiling, and he knew Jikouji was smiling too. The men saw that look of approval on their faces, and their lips curled upwards too. Even as their chests heaved up and down breathlessly from the full day of gruelling training, they was confident that it was all worth it. Finally, they were an army.

The servant girls blushed despite themselves. Such obvious strength brought chills down their spines. The merchants had to be held back by their sons as they attempted to climb the walls, suddenly possessed by the desire to enlist.

"These are the men, Jikouji," Gengyo said, loud enough so that they all could hear him. "These are men worth leading. Our solidarity will be our strength. An ally might let you down, but the man at your shoulder never will. Trust in him and our ranks will never break or crumble. We'll trample them all underfoot, no matter their strength."