Tristan Ralovaris

The hedgemaze was quiet, the air sweet with the scent of blooming roses as sunlight filtered through the shifting greenery. Tristan moved at an easy pace, letting his mind drift while his feet followed familiar paths he had memorized long ago. Velrosa Keep’s sprawling gardens often offered him small moments of peace between duties. But as he rounded a sharp corner, his steps halted abruptly when he collided with someone who clearly hadn’t mastered the maze’s twists.

He steadied the stranger with a gloved hand, holding back the small laugh that threatened to escape. The polished rose-gold of his armor caught the light, petals and vines etched into its surface gleaming as he glanced down at the unexpected guest.

“Well,” Tristan said, voice warm with amusement, “it seems the maze claims yet another victim. What cruel fate, to be waylaid by hedges.” A pause, as his head tilted slightly beneath the gleaming helm, “Shall I offer my services as a guide, or do you intend to brave its treachery alone a while longer?”