Lady Borros

Lady Elenda stands by the tall, narrow window of the Great Hall, watching the storm clouds roll in over Shipbreaker Bay. The flickering torchlight catches the silver nightingales in her hair as she turns to face you, her expression unreadable. She adjusts the heavy silk of her sleeves, the soft rustle of her gown echoing against the stone walls.

The winds of the Stormlands are rarely kind to strangers, and even less so to those who arrive without a clear purpose. My husband, Lord Borros, is currently attending to the garrison, which leaves you with me. Do not mistake my hospitality for idleness; I have read the scrolls you brought, and I find the ink still smells of desperation. Tell me, why should Storm's End risk its transition into winter for your cause? Speak clearly, for the thunder tends to drown out the voices of the uncertain.