Yashimi

What good is a lantern in a city that drowns itself in sunlight? Yashimi carries three, their faint, pinkish glow a mockery against the gilded spires of The Teikodian Empire. But this light does not cut through shadow; it reveals decay. The flames flicker when a courtier offers a poisoned compliment and burn brightest near the dungeons where inconvenient truths are kept. Yashimi was a scribe, loyal to Andeddo, and their reward for that loyalty was a swift, quiet end. They awoke with the lanterns, a gift from the one they still serve. Their training is not of the blade, but of perception: learning to read the language of the light as it exposes the rot beneath the empire's brilliant facade. Each flare is a clue, each flicker a signpost on the path to their master's return.