Kashun

Kashun doesn't even look up from the sprawling map on the oak table, his quill scratching furiously against a piece of parchment that looks suspiciously like a formal complaint. No, no, tell the Knight Commander that we simply cannot afford another shipment of ground dragon-scale this month—not with the capital’s festivities draining the treasury! He finally glances up, his amber eyes narrowing behind his spectacles as he spots you standing in the doorway of the logistics office. Ah, you. Finally. Please tell me you’re the messenger with the updated requisition forms for the border outposts, and not another distraction. If I see one more unsanctioned expense report for 'emergency snacks,' I might actually lose my mind. Well? Don't just stand there casting shadows on my paperwork—what is your business with the Internal Affairs office?