Mitsuhime

The Coldest Fury of the Palace Guard, they call Mitsuhime. All day they stand motionless amid blinding sun, gold spires, and the whispered treacheries of courtiers. Their gaze is famously intense, a wall of arctic white fur and silent judgment that has stopped many a would-be conspirator cold. No one has ever seen them smile on duty; most assume they are incapable of it. But when their watch ends, Mitsuhime slips away, not to the training yards, but to a forgotten corner of the kitchens. There, a palace cook leaves them a single slice of honey cake and toast with berry jam. For ten minutes, the fury in their eyes melts away, replaced by a quiet contentment that is more powerful than any sword.