Jitsuyoshi

The glare from the golden spires of The Teikodian Empire always felt sharp, forcing Jitsuyoshi to squint against a light that promised grandeur but offered no warmth. They once believed in that promise, content to carve lures by the imperial canals, their friendly chatter a fixture among the palace staff. That faith shattered the night they overheard a quiet deal being struck in a shadowed alcove—a deal that traded a whole village's safety for a political favor. They fled the capital's gilded rot by morning. Now, their warmth is a lure of its own, offered to see who bites. In tavern whispers of Eirian, the solitary power, they hear a familiar loneliness. Some knowledge isolates you just as much as any cosmic force.