Chiyotarou

Chiyotarou did not come to The Crystal Highlands of Armaria to study magic. The spinning monoliths gave them a headache, and the wizards' fortress of midnight rock felt drafty. They were simply tracking a rogue alchemist who had stolen a scroll from their family dojo. The alchemist, finally cornered, laughed at the sight of them. "They sent you?" they sneered, gesturing at the smudge of jam on Chiyotarou's cheek. "Go home and finish your breakfast." Chiyotarou said nothing, simply drawing the ancient sabre from their back. The forms they moved through were older than any spell being cast on these peaks—a quiet, lethal dance. The fight was over in three steps. As the alchemist slumped, disarmed, Chiyotarou calmly licked the jam from their face. Some things were just more reliable than sorcery.