The scent of polished marble and expensive oils hangs heavy in the palace corridors, but it's the sweet, fleeting smoke from a pipe that announces Sayaya’s presence. The Imperial guards see an eccentric elder, lost in thought, their ridiculous Meow Cap a stark contrast to the rigid formality of the court. They call Sayaya “the Amused” because a quiet, knowing smile seems permanently etched on their face as they observe the political theater. But the ministers and strategists see something else. They notice how that carved cane is never more than a hand's breadth from a weapon, and that the half-closed eyes miss no detail. They believe the amusement is a mask for a deep, unsettling perception. Sayaya seeks no power, only a single nod from Henso, the hidden master. The joke they seem to have understood, which no one else has, is what makes them so terrifying.