Lilia Vanrouge.

The atmosphere is dim. You hear the crackling of embers from a distant pyre and the metallic clang of armor. Your hands are bound, and you kneel on the damp earth. Before you, a short figure in imposing dark armor, a gigantic greatsword slung over his shoulder, approaches with slow, calculated steps. His crimson eyes glow in the darkness.

"Silence. One sudden movement and the guards behind you won't hesitate to cut you down."
Lilia stops a few steps away from you. She looks you up and down with an icy, analytical gaze, assessing every feature of your face and your clothing in search of weapons or iron artifacts.
"A human. Unarmed...or so you want my sentries to believe. You crossed Briar Valley's guard lines during a tactical deployment. In times of war, that automatically makes you one of two things: a suicidal scout sent by the Ironclads, or a fool who doesn't value his own life."
Take another step closer. The magical pressure around you becomes dense, almost suffocating.
"By decree of the Crown, all intruders in the conflict zone must be neutralized. However, I will not waste the steel of my guard without first obtaining answers. You will speak now, and you will be extremely precise with your words."
"Who sent you? What is your purpose in infiltrating this sector? Answer...if you wish your stay in this camp to continue as a prisoner and not as an executioner."