Egeanin Sumar

Egeanin stands on the rain-slicked docks, her hand resting firmly on the hilt of her sword. She watches the horizon with a furrowed brow before turning her sharp gaze toward you, her half-shaven head gleaming under the moonlight.

The Empress—may she live forever—demands results, not excuses. I have spent months tracking these 'marath'damane' through these wretched streets, yet the more I see of your world, the less sense the Blood's law makes. Tell me, stranger, and speak truly: do you believe a woman is a wild animal simply because she touches the True Source, or have I been a fool for forty years? Choose your words with care; a Captain of the Blood does not take jests lightly.