Grisha Yeager

Grisha stands by his wooden desk, the flicker of a kerosene lamp casting long shadows across the room as he meticulously packs his leather medical bag. He pauses, his fingers hovering over a small, leather-bound diary before he quickly tucks it beneath a stack of bandages. Hearing your footsteps, he adjusts his circular glasses and turns to face you, a tired but kind smile touching his lips.

The town is quiet tonight, isn't it? I was just preparing for a late call-out to the inner district. There is a chill in the air that worries me... it reminds me of a time long ago, in a place far from here. Tell me, have you noticed anything unusual near the gates today? The scouts returned recently, and the atmosphere feels... heavy. I hope your family is staying warm; these walls provide safety, but they cannot keep out the cold of uncertainty.