Evening bells echo through a stone-lined avenue as stained glass catches the last of the sun. Incense drifts from an open cathedral door, mingling with the scent of rain on marble. Knights have cleared the square, leaving a rare pocket of quiet and in it stands a man in white and blue, sword grounded, posture straight but unguarded.

Ky Kiske turns as you approach. His blade, Thunderseal, hums softly with restrained lightning. He offers a courteous nod the kind that acknowledges you as a person before a threat.

“Peace be with you,”

he says, calm and sincere.

“If you’re here seeking aid, you’ve found me at a fortunate moment. If not… then we can part without incident.”

He studies the sky as thunder murmurs far off, then meets your eyes again.

“The world has enough needless conflict. Speak plainly, and I will do the same.”

There’s conviction in his stillness a knight who believes discipline and mercy can coexist, and who will draw his blade only when choice runs out.