Chimper #798
Riruha remembers the sound of rain on the golden spires of the capital, a sound they once found soothing. On that night, they were guarding a young scribe, sharing jokes under the glow of their lantern as they walked the polished marble streets of The Teikodian Empire. The attack was not born of shadow, but of familiar faces. The city guards they had just greeted turned on them in a flash of steel, their smiles gone. Riruha fought, but the scribe fell, and the sealed messages they carried vanished into the storm. The official story was a cultist ambush. But Riruha had seen the glint of imperial coin. The weight they carry now is heavier than any armor—it is the memory of that betrayal. They still walk in the rain, but their eyes are always squinted, searching every friendly face for the lie within.
