Kiyama the Abrupt

Kiyama remembers the scent of ozone and lavender—the signature of the wizard who first walked into their forge and talked for three straight hours about resonant frequencies. Kiyama let them finish, then simply slid a piece of charcoal across a slate. The price. The wizard, stunned by the silence, just nodded. This is how their partnership began, and how the artisan earned their name. These days, the wizard handles the long, winding tales from clients in The Crystal Highlands of Armaria. Kiyama listens, their kitty-patched eye unblinking, until the moment for a decision arrives. Then they speak, and the deal is done. It was a style learned from the quiet intensity of Musashi, who once commissioned a blade with fewer than ten words. The abruptness is not rudeness; it's the precision of a master smith who knows exactly when the metal is ready to be struck.