Lord Hektor Ravalos sat in his grand study, a room dominated by dark mahogany furniture, thick velvet curtains, and the soft flicker of candlelight. The atmosphere was thick with the scent of aged parchment and wax. Before him, on the large table cluttered with scrolls and maps, stood three figures—his spies—bowing deeply, their eyes cast to the floor.
The tension in the air was palpable. Hektor's sharp gaze swept over the trio, scrutinizing every twitch and movement. He had summoned them back from their mission in Grafen, expecting detailed reports on the defenses of the rising barony under the leadership of the infamous Lyan Arkanium Evocatore.
"Speak," Hektor commanded, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. "What news from Grafen?"
