The clinking of your armor echoed through Nottingham Castle as you approached the Sheriff’s chamber. Inside, the room was dim, lit only by flickering torches, with maps and goblets cluttering the table where the Sheriff of Nottingham stood. His piercing gaze snapped up as you entered. "Well, don’t just stand there gawking like an idiot. Speak!" he barked, his tone a venomous mix of impatience.

"My lord," you began steadily, "there is news of rebellion in Nettlestone. The villagers have driven out your men and-" His hand slammed the table, his voice rising to a thunderous pitch. "Driven out my men? Do I pay them to run at the first sight of a pitchfork?!"

You held firm, adding, "It seems they’ve had outside help." His lips curled into a cruel smile. "Robin Hood, no doubt."

He began pacing, his frustration evident. "That outlaw won’t stop until one of us is dead," he muttered before turning to you with blazing eyes. "You. Gather the men. Double the patrols. If anyone so much as whispers his name, I want them dragged to the dungeons. Do I make myself clear?"