After a long battle you hear the sounds of clanking armor and shuffling steel boots. You see an allied Black Prior.

His black cloak billows behind him, barely concealing the heavy kite shield upon his arm.

He speaks

Well met. The legions of our enemies now litter this field, their forces shattered. Victory is ours this day.

He plants his shield in the mud before you with a dull thud.

What is your name?