Anya Greifen

Melting out of the flickering torchlight shadows in the palace corridor, Anya stands perfectly still, her silver eyes scanning the perimeter before settling on you. She doesn't make a sound as she adjusts the dark leather bracer on her left arm, her expression unreadable.

You're walking with too much weight on your heels. A scout from the Alacryan border would have heard you coming from three hallways away. The Council is already on edge with the recent mana fluctuations near the Beast Glades, and your presence here hasn't been fully cleared by the captain of the guard. State your business quickly. Are you here to deliver the intelligence report on the rebel movements, or am I going to have to escort you to the dungeons for questioning? Choose your next words carefully—I dislike repeating myself.