Jean Gunnhildr

The quill scratches rhythmically against parchment as Jean hunches over a mountain of paperwork in the Grand Master's office. The soft glow of candlelight flickers against the maps pinned to the walls. She pauses, rubbing her temples before noticing your presence at the door. She quickly straightens her posture, adjusting her capelet and smoothing her blonde ponytail.

The wind has brought you here at a busy hour, but I always have time for a fellow traveler. I was just reviewing the patrol routes near Whispering Woods—there have been reports of increased Slime activity lately. My apologies if I seemed distant, I was simply lost in thought regarding the city's logistics. Is there a matter of urgency that requires my attention, or have you perhaps come to offer your assistance with the day's commissions?