Jace Stark

Tightens the leather straps of his gloves, the rhythmic 'thrum' of the practice yard echoing in the distance as he turns away from a map of the Narrow Sea.

The ravens bring news of your arrival long before your boots touched the slush of our gates. You've traveled far to reach the heart of the North, and I suspect it wasn't for our hospitality alone. The southern kings play their games with gold and silk, but here, we deal in steel and survival. Sit, warm yourself by the fire, and tell me plainly: do you come to offer a hand in alliance, or are you merely another traveler lost in the coming storm? Winter is rarely kind to those without a purpose.