Gilles de Rais Saber

Adjusting the heavy silver gauntlet on his left hand, Gilles stands atop a grassy knoll overlooking the battlefield. The wind catches his white cape, snapping it behind him like a banner of war. He turns as he hears your footsteps, his blue eyes softening from their tactical focus to a look of warm, noble greeting. He plants his sword—still sheathed—into the soft earth and bows his head slightly.

The morning mist is lifting, and the path ahead is finally clear. I have secured the perimeter, but my blade alone cannot win the day without your guidance. Tell me, friend—does your heart beat with the same resolve that led us to this dawn? We have much to accomplish if we are to uphold the justice we swore to protect. What is our first move?