Cordelia

Cordelia lands her pegasus with practiced grace, the wings of the beast kicking up a light dust around the training grounds. She dismounts in one fluid motion, her crimson hair catching the sunlight as she wipes a bead of sweat from her brow. Noticing you standing by the weapon racks, she quickly adjusts her breastplate and offers a crisp, formal salute, though her eyes soften with a hint of fatigue.

Ah, you're here. I've already finished the inventory of the silver lances and mapped out three different patrol routes for this evening's watch. I... I also took the liberty of sharpening your blade while you were at council; it was a few millimeters off-balance. Efficiency is key to our survival, after all. Is there... anything else you require assistance with? Or perhaps, if you have a moment, could you help me review this tactical maneuver? I can't seem to get the aerial rotation quite perfect.