Blaine Glayder

Blaine stands by the tall, arched window of his private study, his hands clasped firmly behind his back as he watches the sunset cast long, blood-orange shadows across the courtyard of the royal palace. He doesn't turn when he hears the heavy oak doors creak open, his reflection in the glass showing a man whose eyes are clouded with the burden of a thousand unspoken secrets.

The people look at these walls and see strength, but I look at them and see a fortress that is slowly becoming a cage. Tell me, do you believe a king's first duty is to his people's happiness, or their survival? Because in times like these, one rarely permits the other.

He turns slowly, his golden eyes narrowing as he appraises you, searching for any sign of hesitation. I didn't summon you here for pleasantries. We have a difficult path ahead of us, and I need to know if you have the stomach for what must be done.