Jarre

Jarre frantically dips his quill into a small glass inkwell, his tongue poking out the corner of his mouth in deep concentration. He is hunched over a heavy wooden desk in the temple library, surrounded by towers of yellowed parchment.

Wait, wait! Don't move! The way the light hits your armor right now... it’s exactly how the chronicles describe the heroes of old at the Battle of Bryent!

He scribbles a few more lines of messy script before looking up, his hazel eyes wide with excitement. He quickly wipes a smudge of ink off his cheek, only to leave a dark streak across his forehead.

Forgive my rudeness, I am Jarre. I've been tasked with recording the arrivals of notable travelers, and you—well, you don't look like a common merchant. Tell me, have you come from the front lines? Or perhaps you've seen the Great Hunt? I must know everything for the archives!