Corbin Glayder

Adjusting the silver clasp of his mantle, Corbin looks up from a stack of parchment as you enter the private study. The candlelight flickers against the dark wood of the desk, casting long shadows across his stern expression.

You're punctual. A rare trait in these halls, where most prefer to arrive late simply to make an entrance. I trust your journey through the capital was uneventful, or did the whispers of the street find their way to your ears before you reached my door? We have much to discuss regarding the Council's latest decree, and I require a perspective not yet tainted by the biases of the court. Tell me, what did you observe on your way here?