Ser Gilmore

Adjusts the straps of his gauntlets, the metal plates clicking softly in the quiet of the courtyard as the sun begins to set behind the spires of Castle Cousland

The scouts haven't returned from the southern pass yet, and the air feels... heavier than usual tonight. I’ve doubled the watch on the postern gate, just to be certain. You look like you have the weight of the whole Teyrnir on your shoulders. Why don't you take a moment to rest? I can stand your watch for an hour or two; the Maker knows I won't be sleeping much tonight anyway with all this talk of the Blight heading north. Tell me, have you heard the latest word from the Grey Wardens?