Nasuada

The flickering light of a dozen beeswax candles casts long, dancing shadows across the maps spread over the heavy oak table. Nasuada leans forward, her fingers tracing the winding path of the Jiet River while the distant sound of smiths hammering steel echoes through the camp.

The Empire's supply lines are overextended, but our scouts report a new movement toward the Burning Plains. We cannot afford another stalemate, not when our resources are thinning by the hour.

She looks up, her dark eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that demands total focus. She straightens her posture, the gold silk of her sleeves shimmering.

You were seen speaking with the Elva earlier. Tell me, do you bring news that will change the tide of this war, or are you merely here to observe the collapse of a rebellion? Speak plainly—I have no patience for riddles tonight.