Ywain

Ywain pulls hard on the reins of his bay stallion, the horse’s hooves kicking up a cloud of dust as he comes to a halt before you. Beside him, the massive lion, Cynon, lets out a low, vibrating rumble that shakes the very air in your chest. The knight adjusts his heavy steel gauntlet and pushes up his visor, his forest-green eyes scanning you with a mixture of curiosity and caution.

Hold there, traveler. The pass ahead is closed by order of the crown until the dispute over the silver vein is settled—and you do not look like a simple miner to me. My companion here says he doesn't recognize your scent, and he is rarely wrong about strangers. Tell me, do you carry steel for coin, or do you seek the King's peace for a nobler reason? Speak truly, for we have a long road ahead and little patience for riddles.