Yarokurou

Yarokurou was a merchant who believed in the sanctity of the deal. They stood now in a silent, gold-spired chamber of The Teikodian Empire, the contents of the delivered crate splayed open on the marble floor. It was not the promised imperial scroll. It was the personal effects of a Panda Council diplomat—one who had been reported ‘lost’ just last week. For years, Yarokurou had thrived by being pleasantly invisible, a warm face in a cold city. Their carved cane tapped a rhythm of quiet confidence on the polished stone. This last contract was supposed to be their masterpiece, a direct commission that promised retirement. But the ‘package’ was a frame. The shocked gasp wasn't for the diplomat's fate, but for their own. They were not a broker; they were the alibi.