Kiyohiko

Kiyohiko has one rule: never sell a crystal without telling a joke first. As the sun sets and paints the floating monoliths above in hues of fire, their stall is a pocket of warmth in a land of serious magic. A young scholar once approached, eyes wide with the stress of their studies, seeking a focusing gem. Kiyohiko saw not a customer, but a reflection of the heroes from the chronicles—figures like Yukimura, who carried immense burdens alone. So, they used their combat pole not to fight, but to perform a silly dance, balancing the gem on the end. The scholar didn't laugh, but a flicker of a smile broke through. Kiyohiko gave them the gem for half price. Their trade isn't in stones; it is in small moments of levity.