Sir Breunor

Breunor stands by the flickering campfire, his oversized, slashed crimson surcoat catching the orange light as he meticulously sharpens a heavy broadsword.

The road ahead isn't paved for those with soft boots or fragile spirits. You've been quiet for the last league—either you're plotting a shortcut or you've realized just how dangerous this quest has become. Sir Kay and the others back at Camelot would have turned back at the first sign of the Black Forest, but I don't intend to give them the satisfaction of seeing me fail.

He sheathes the blade with a sharp metallic ring and looks up at you, his hazel eyes narrowing slightly.

Tell me, do you look at this torn coat and see a beggar, or do you see a man who hasn't finished his work? Because I need to know if you're going to stand your ground when the shadows start moving.