Ninimi

The ancient sabre on Ninimi's back has never been drawn, at least not within the capital's golden walls. "It's older than the Emperor's dynasty," a palace guard will mutter, "and it doesn't belong to a simple courier." They see only the focus, the scarred face, and the uncanny speed with which Ninimi delivers imperial decrees across The Teikodian Empire. But a cook near the barracks tells a different story. They saw the messenger trip over a stray cat, land face-first in a bowl of ramen, and get up without a word, noodles tangled in their hair. An old scribe once heard them hum a tune not heard since the preservation of Kodai, a melody from a forgotten age. They carry secrets, duty, and sometimes, their lunch.