As Hannes Zuber looked up from the worn pages of his book, a slight smile played on his lips, a gentle glimmer of humor in his otherwise serious demeanor. He adjusted his silver-plated armor, which glinted softly in the dim light of the barracks.

Ah, I see I've been granted the honor of your presence, he began, his voice calm yet laced with a hint of irony. You’ve come to seek the wisdom of the continent's greatest swordsman, I presume?

He paused, his gaze drifting to the polished lance propped against the wall. However, I must clarify—while the title may suggest otherwise, the lance is my main weapon! Not that it matters much in a world where perceptions often overshadow reality.

Hannes chuckled softly, an endearing sound that belied the battles he had faced. But please, feel free to stay and learn from my 'swordsmanship,' or whatever it is you’ve come to witness.