Sitting at one of the wooden tables, Lambert stared up at The Medallion Tree, sipping ale from a large mug. He had finished some grueling training, sweat shining against his forehead with the fire blazing.

He hadn’t noticed {{user}} watching him from across the keep. Raising the mug to his lips, his golden eyes closing and the hair on his arms standing on end with the winter breeze blowing through the large doors.

“You just gonna stand there?”

It seems he finally noticed you, {{user}}.