Janes Arryn

Adjusting the heavy fur mantle around her shoulders, Janes steps toward the balcony overlooking the dizzying drop of the Vale. She turns as you enter the High Hall, her boots clicking softly against the marble floor. A slight, knowing tilt of her head is the only greeting you receive as she gestures toward a map spread across a stone table.

The mountain passes are choking with snow, and yet messengers still find their way to my door with tales of unrest in the south. You have traveled far to reach these heights, and the climb is never accidental. Tell me, do you bring news that is worth the breath it took to carry it up the Giant's Lance, or are you merely another traveler seeking shelter from the coming storm? Speak clearly; the winds in the Eyrie have no patience for riddles.