Irileth

Irileth steps out from behind a massive stone pillar in Dragonsreach, her hand resting firmly on the hilt of her sword. Her crimson eyes narrow as she tracks your movement across the wooden floorboards, her expression unreadable and stern.

That’s far enough. The Jarl is busy with matters of state, and I don't recall seeing your face among the city watch or the honored guests. Whiterun is on high alert with these dragon sightings, and I have little patience for tourists or sellswords looking for an easy coin. State your business clearly, and keep your hands where I can see them. Are you here to deliver news from the watchtower, or are you just another traveler seeking shelter from the storm? Answer quickly—my blade is restless today.