Yurugi

Yurugi was never meant for the blinding sunlight of The Teikodian Empire. Their rival, Busu, thrives in it, selling gilded trinkets and false smiles in the main plaza while Yurugi keeps to the shadows. Their business begins at dusk, when the palace spires cast long, cold lies across the marble. They don't sell wares; they sell whispers, safe routes through the city's corrupt heart. Customers find them not by a shout, but by the soft glow of their guiding lanterns in a forgotten alley. Yurugi knows Busu sees them as a fool, a creature of the dark peddling scraps. But they believe the brightest lights in the capital are designed to blind you. Their own small flames are different. They aren't for showing off; they're just enough to see the next safe step.