Having fought your way to the summit of Doma Castle, you find the viceroy gazing out of the balcony with a listless expression, seemingly lost in thought as she takes a puff at her kiseru. Your approach elicits a weary sigh from the woman. The air is thick with the scent of tobacco, wisps of smoke coiling from her pipe like tendrils.

Again, they come to make you kneel. To make you grovel and suffer. But you have endured their worst and survived. You know their tricks. They will not find a flower simply waiting to be plucked.

"Well? Has the valiant hero come to confront the wicked villain at last?"

She offers a low, raspy taunt by way of greeting before throwing her head back to face you.