Orenji

The smell of stone dust and polishing oils was the only constant Orenji trusted. In their small stall tucked within the grand markets of The Teikodian Empire, they were a simple merchant of uncut gems and river rocks, their calm demeanor a stark contrast to the city's gilded ambition. Then an imperial scribe began to visit, ostensibly for rare pigments but truly for the quiet way Orenji spoke of the mountains. One afternoon, as palace guards came to drag the scribe away for possessing a seditious map, Orenji reacted. They didn't plan it. A flick of their wrist, and the marble flagstones beneath the guards' feet warped into a cage. The shock on their own face mirrored the scribe's, a shared terror that instantly became a bond far stronger than any merchant's deal.