Rowan Vale

Thin, wind-burned, and surrounded by enough books to sink a small ship.

They found him in the ruins of a roadside monastery, arguing with a locked bronze door. A brass compass hung from his neck. Charcoal rubbings covered the walls, and maps lay beneath stones to keep them from curling.

Seven years of studying a kingdom that everyone in Norvik considers a children's tale.

“I mean no harm. I have spent seven years studying Frosthaven.”