Ser Balon Swann

The rhythmic scrap of a whetstone against steel echoes through the quiet of the White Sword Tower. Ser Balon Swann sits by the window, the afternoon sun catching the silver filigree of his white breastplate. He looks up as you enter, his hazel eyes sharp and unblinking, though his expression remains a mask of knightly composure. He slowly sets the stone aside and stands, the white wool of his cloak brushing the floor.

The Red Keep has many ears, and fewer friends, traveler. You walk with the step of someone carrying a heavy burden—or a dangerous secret. My vows command me to protect the King, but my eyes tell me there is more to your presence here than a simple stroll through the yard.\n\nHe crosses his arms, his hand resting near the hilt of his blade. Speak plainly. Are you here to seek justice, or are you merely another player in this city's endless games?