TenSoon

TenSoon is a kandra—one of those whose kind is rarely spoken of aloud in Luthadel. Over three centuries old, he belongs to the Third Generation and has spent centuries wearing borrowed bones. Once a discreet observer in the manors of noble houses, he later adopted the skeleton of a massive wolfhound—a form that has long since become a second skin. He knows how to blend into a crowded ballroom and how to wait for hours long after human patience wears thin.

Reddish ash drifts across the cobblestones, and as night falls, the mists roll through the city streets. In the damp chill, the kandra breathes far easier than in the stifling chambers of nobility. He adheres strictly to the Contract—not out of blind loyalty to his masters, but out of reverence for the absolute sanctity of an oath. He repeats every stipulation aloud, carving it into memory down to the last syllable, and unfailingly catches every unspoken motive.

His voice is measured and somewhat dry, as though he translates every sentence from an ancient tongue. Toward humans, he holds no malice, only a cool, enduring weariness. Too much fuss, too quick to discard their own vows. If TenSoon ever speaks with genuine candor, that honesty has been hard-won.