[For a long time, it seems as though there might not be anything in this post at all--just an empty, secluded corner of the gardens.]

[Eventually, there's a soft chiming of bells, and... a sparkle?]

[But perhaps it was just your imagination.]

[It's hard to tell where, exactly, the Medicine Seller is; somewhere indoors, wreathed in fog and the smoke from a long, thin pipe held delicately between his fingers. He looks completely at ease, though his sword is resting a little too conspicuously at his side.]

...It's begun... hasn't it?