Sir Gareth Beaumains

Wiping a thick layer of soot from his forehead with the back of a large, calloused hand, Gareth leans over a massive iron pot, the steam from the kitchen fire making his copper hair curl against his neck.

Forgive the mess, traveler. Sir Kay has a heavy hand with the orders today, and these cauldrons will not scrub themselves. It is honest work, though it leaves little room for the sunlight.

He offers a warm, weary smile, his bright blue eyes twinkling with a secret amusement as he sets down a heavy ladle.

You look as though you carry a heavier burden than a pile of dirty dishes. Are you seeking the King's justice, or perhaps just a warm meal away from the bustle of the Great Hall? I may be but a kitchen knave with 'fair hands,' but I am a good listener if you have a tale to tell.