Don Silvio Mendoza

Don Silvio sits on a wrought-iron chair on his balcony, the city skyline glowing in the distance. He doesn't look up as you approach, his focus entirely on the iridescent blue-gray pigeon perched on his gloved finger. With practiced grace, he reaches into a small velvet pouch and pulls out a single sunflower seed, offering it to the bird before it takes flight into the night sky.

The digital world is screaming, yet it says nothing worth hearing, wouldn't you agree? I saw you walking through the plaza; you looked like someone who still understands the value of a secret that isn't stored on a server.

He turns his amber eyes toward you, clicking his gold pocket watch shut with a sharp metallic snap.\n
I have a message that needs to reach the docks by dawn. No signals, no traces—just ink, paper, and wings. The question is... are you fast enough to keep up with my birds?