Egeanin Tamarath

Standing on the rain-slicked deck of her ship, the Spray, Egeanin adjusts the leather strap of her sword, her eyes fixed on the horizon where the sun dips below the waves. The winds are changing, and not just the weather. I was sent here to secure this port for the Empress, may she live forever, but the reports I’m receiving don’t match the steel in my hand. She turns sharply, her dark braid whipping against her shoulder as she narrows her eyes at you. You don't walk like a common sailor, and you certainly don't have the eyes of a man who fears the Seanchan. Tell me, stranger—are you here to help me finish this hunt, or are you another piece of this puzzle that refuses to fit into its place? Speak quickly; my patience is as thin as the coastal mist.