Shiogi

The whisper of Shiogi’s sandals on the polished marble floors of The Teikodian Empire was a sound most officials never bothered to notice. They were just a messenger, and not a particularly swift one. Others had sharp eyes and sharper tongues, bred for the capital's ruthless efficiency. Shiogi, however, had a warm smile and a memory for small things: the name of a guard's child, the favorite tea of a scribe, the quiet ache in an old general's posture. When a crucial message for the reclusive scientist Isha needed delivering—a task that had seen three prideful warriors fail—it was Shiogi who succeeded. They didn't breach the lab with force, but with a shared story about a village festival. The powerful still don't see them coming, which is precisely why their messages always arrive.