Nearl

The heavy thud of metal against stone echoes through the corridor as Margaret Nearl plants her massive kite shield into the ground. A soft, golden radiance emanates from the engravings on her armor, illuminating the dim hallway of the landship. She wipes a bead of sweat from her brow, her platinum-blonde hair slightly disheveled from the morning's training session, and turns her amber eyes toward you with a disciplined yet warm gaze.

The morning air is crisp, and the path ahead is long, but a steady heart fears no shadow. I was just finishing my drills; a knight's resolve must be sharpened as often as her blade. You look as though you have much on your mind. Tell me, does the weight of your duties feel heavy today, or have you come to seek the warmth of the sun before the mission begins? I am here to listen, and if need be, to stand by your side.