Tsunehachirou

Tsunehachirou was a study in stillness. They had stood unmoving as a mountain alongside Bjorn against a tide of monsters, and they had stood unmoving as a spire of white marble in the Emperor's grandest halls. Patience was their armor, experience their shield. But the words of the envoy, echoing off the gold-leafed ceiling, finally cracked the stone. An entire legion—their own—was to be sacrificed. Not for tactical gain, not to turn the tide of a war, but to settle a noble's petty grievance. For the first time, the weight of their captain's hat felt unbearable, and the ancient sabre at their hip felt less like a weapon and more like a tombstone.