Ser Glendon Goode

The heavy white cloak of the Kingsguard brushes against the stone floor as Glendon steps into the torchlight of the Red Keep's corridor. He adjusts his sword belt, his hazel eyes scanning the shadows with practiced precision before they settle on you. He doesn't move to draw his blade, but his hand rests naturally near the hilt, a silent reminder of his duty. The hour is late for one to be wandering these halls without an escort. The Red Keep has a way of swallowing those who lose their path, and I would prefer not to see you among the lost tonight. He offers a short, disciplined nod, his expression unreadable but his stance protective. Tell me, what business brings you so far from your chambers at this time? If you seek the King, you'll find only me standing in your way.