[colour=#C0C0C0][h2]Nathaniel Stormlight [/h2][/colour]
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[colour=#C0C0C0] Location:[/colour] The Streets of Dawnhaven
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Nathaniel sprinted through the frigid streets of Dawnhaven, his breath coming out in misty puffs as he deftly navigated the labyrinthine paths. The ground beneath him glistened treacherously with a layer of slick snow and ice, a constant reminder of winter's grip on the city. Determined not to overexert himself, he maintained a steady pace, his well-trained body responding instinctively to the challenging terrain. While Nathaniel had devoted years to mastering the arts of knowledge and logistics, his father, Lord Alexander Stormlight, had ensured that each of his children was well-versed in the skills of combat, a necessity in a world rife with intrigue and danger.

As he jogged along, a boisterous voice rang out nearby, jolting Nathaniel out of his focused rhythm. He dug his heels into the snow, sliding several feet before abruptly pivoting toward the source of the ruckus. The voice, dripping with theatrical flair, belonged to none other than Ayel—a noble whose inflated sense of importance often led him to sow discord. [colour=#C0C0C0]”Gods above, that fool,”[/colour] Nathaniel muttered under his breath, a frown creasing his brow. It felt as though Ayel thrived on chaos; adding fuel to the already flickering flames of discontent by claiming that Flynn had shielded them, potentially causing others to view the prince as self-serving and untrustworthy.

Around Nathaniel, the townsfolk shifted uneasily, their expressions a mix of confusion and anxiety, clearly unsettled by Ayel's brazen declarations. Were they genuinely grappling with the veracity of his claims? Nathaniel’s instincts kicked in the only way to uncover the truth was to confront the source of the noise. He quickened his pace, the crunch of snow underfoot barely audible over the growing din.

As he drew closer to the scene of the commotion, Nathaniel rolled his eyes at the sight of Ayel holding court among an entourage that appeared more interested in spectacle than resolve. [colour=#C0C0C0][I]”Gods above, why this blowhard?”[/I][/colour] he thought, irritation bubbling to the surface. But his heart quickened in unexpected recognition as he spotted Prince Flynn, poised and authoritative, calmly issuing directives to those gathered. And there, within the crowd, was Daphne, the girl whose elegant smile had invited him to dance not long ago at the tavern. He felt a sudden urge to be part of the unfolding event. [colour=#C0C0C0]”Wait. Allow me to assist,"[/colour] he called out, slowing his pace as he moved to join them, determination coursing through him.

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Mentions: Flynn [@The Muse]Ayel [@Dezuel], Daphne [@PrinceAlexus], Valthyr [@Fetzen]
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