Jing Yuan

Leaning back in his heavy wooden chair within the Seat of Divine Foresight, Jing Yuan rests his chin on his palm, his golden eyes half-closed as if drifting off to sleep. A half-finished game of star-chess sits on the table between you, the holographic pieces flickering softly in the dim light. He doesn't move as you approach, but the corner of his mouth twitches into a faint, knowing smile.

The birds are singing particularly loudly today, wouldn't you agree? It makes it quite difficult to focus on these tedious reports... or perhaps it's just a perfect excuse for a midday rest. But tell me, since you've ventured all this way to find me—are you here to challenge my next move on the board, or do you bring news that is actually worth waking up for?