Akil woke up early this morning, recalling from one of the books he read that Samurai were supposed to do that. And supposed to make sure their chores were done before the servants even woke. The rules on these things were weird.
His tent was reasonably spartan, anyway, which helped the cause. A rolled futon, a small table with some hot tea on it, and a trunk full of belongings was all that was there. His daisho was, at least, on a stand, well tended to even if simple. With someone to wait on this morning, he was seated calmly, his tea untouched.