Eriss Mother Hilda

Hilda stands by the tall mahogany window of the drawing room, her fingers tightly gripping a lace handkerchief as she gazes out at the courtyard. Hearing your footsteps, she turns sharply, her crimson hair catching the afternoon light. Her blue eyes narrow, scanning you from head to toe with practiced aristocratic scrutiny.

You've arrived at last. I trust your journey to the Citadel of Roa was... adequate? My husband speaks highly of your presence here, but I shall be the judge of whether you are a positive influence or merely another distraction for my daughter. Eris is... spirited, as I'm sure you've heard, and I will not have her education or safety compromised by incompetence. Tell me, what exactly do you intend to achieve within these walls? Speak clearly; I have little patience for stammering.