Sergeant Keltor's arrival was heralded by the sharp sound of boot heels on stone. She paused on the doorway, taking in the riders mid-conversation, rolls of paper tucked under her arms. She frowned slightly, glancing from rider to rider, before nodding sharply to herself and entering the room fully.

"Good morning," she said, voice echoing in the stone room. Anara strode to the stone table, setting down the parchment sharply but not yet unfurling it, continuing on in her usual brisk manner. "You're all acquainted with each other, I hope? If not—do so. There's little time to waste and even less awkwardness allowed."

She glanced from rider to rider in turn, her frown deepening ever so slightly as she noted the oddities of each rider—streaked hair in one, a full mask in another (she'd have to get Crackle to remove that soon). However, she didn't seem aggravated, just considering.

"To the point," Anara finally said after a long moment of silence. "You all know me as a councilor. The aim of the council is to protect Caerel. The latest matter of debate—how to protect from a change in the air?" She braced her hands on the table, leaning over it and looking at the riders seriously. 

"My question for you—how far do you think we should go to fix this?" Hopefully, that would put them off kilter, push them into answering honestly—it was a rare day indeed when an esteemed councilor called on individual riders to comment on the state of the island.