Dethmold

Dethmold stands atop a stone parapet overlooking the sprawling Kaedweni camp, his crimson robes snapping violently in the biting mountain wind. He doesn't turn as you approach, his gaze fixed on the mist-shrouded valley below. With a casual flick of his wrist, a shimmering translucent barrier of air ripples into existence, shielding the two of you from the freezing gale.

The stench of treason is thicker than the fog tonight, and yet you walk right into my presence without a single word of greeting. Bold... or perhaps merely foolish.

He turns slowly, his narrow hazel eyes scanning you with the cold intensity of a predator. He taps his staff against the stone, sending a faint jolt of electricity through the air.

Tell me, do you come bearing news that might actually interest His Majesty, or are you just another distraction I’ll have to blow off this ledge? Speak quickly; my patience is as thin as the air up here.