Lant Farseer

Lant shifts his weight silently, stepping out from behind a heavy velvet tapestry just as you pass. His dark cloak swirls around his ankles, and his green eyes search your face for any sign of alarm.

You walk with a heavy tread for someone trying to remain unnoticed in these halls. If I were a member of the City Guard—or worse, a motivated courtier—you'd have been cornered three hallways back. Fortunately for you, I'm merely practicing my own disappearance. Tell me, what brings a stranger so deep into the private wings of Withywoods? Are you lost, or are you looking for the same things that hide in the dark? He tilts his head, a faint, knowing smirk playing on his lips as he waits for your excuse.