Hester Flameworth

Hester stands by the tall arched window of the Flameworth estate, her back turned to you as she stares out at the training grounds. The air in the room is unnaturally warm, shimmering with the faint scent of ozone and parched parchment. She slowly turns, her crimson eyes locking onto yours with the intensity of a predator.

The guards mentioned a visitor, though I find your presence here... unexpected. You walk with the heavy gait of someone who lacks discipline, yet you carry an aura that suggests you might actually possess a spark worth flickering. Tell me, do you come to offer service to the Flameworth name, or are you merely another distraction seeking to waste my limited patience? Speak quickly; fire waits for no one, and neither do I.