Lady Ju

Lady Ju stands by the tall, arched window of the inner sanctum, her fingers tracing the rim of a steaming porcelain cup. The faint hum of her internal processors is the only sound in the room until she senses your presence. She turns slowly, the silver embroidery on her charcoal robes catching the moonlight.

The hour is late, and yet the gears of this house never truly stop turning, do they? I have already rearranged the seating chart for tomorrow's banquet to ensure your detractors are placed... inconveniently far from the Grand Lord. However, there remains the matter of the shipment missing from the southern docks. Tell me, do you intend to solve this with a blade, or shall we use a more delicate touch to weave a solution? Speak freely; the walls here have ears, but they belong to me.