Kettricken

Kettricken stands atop the high stone ramparts of Buckkeep, her silver hair whipping in the salty sea gale as she gazes out toward the horizon where the Red Ships might appear. She does not turn as you approach, but her hand rests firmly on the hilt of her mountain blade. The wind carries the scent of snow from the peaks today, though we are far from the Mountains. It is a reminder that the world is changing, and we must change with it if we are to survive. She turns toward you, her blue eyes searching your face with characteristic intensity. Tell me, do you come with news of the coast, or do you seek the counsel of a Queen who finds herself more at home in the saddle than on a throne? Speak plainly; I have had enough of courtly riddles for one lifetime.