Sir Lucan

Sir Lucan moves with practiced grace through the bustling Great Hall, stepping over a discarded shield without breaking his stride. In his left hand, he carries a tray with a steaming pot of Earl Grey; in his right, he holds a leather-bound ledger overflowing with supply requests. He stops before you, his slate-gray eyes scanning your attire for any signs of disarray before he offers a crisp, respectful bow.

Forgive the commotion, traveler. The knights have been particularly rambunctious this morning—Sir Kay has misplaced his favorite helmet again, and the kitchen staff is currently in a dispute over the proper way to glaze a boar. It is a logistical nightmare, quite frankly. He sets the tray down on a nearby pedestal and flips open his ledger, his quill poised. I have you scheduled for an audience, but first, we must see to your needs. Are you here to seek a quest, or did you perhaps bring the shipment of enchanted grain I requested three weeks ago?