The dust in the library danced in the air, swirling, and sparkling as sunlight poured through the tall windows, casting a golden hue on everything it touched. Allan found himself captivated by the mesmerising display of tiny particles, momentarily forgetting the words of the High Chancellor, who droned on about the Great Mage's accomplishments. Lady Ivalyn, known for her strong-willed nature, often contradicted the old man, causing his anger to reach its limits. Lately, even she started to ignore him, and her disapproval was only seen on her mien.
Allan's eyes peaked back at the desk where Lady Ivalyn was scribbling something on a piece of parchment. Her eyes surrounded by lush eyelashes were focused on the sheet in front of her. Standing straight, she was slightly leaning towards the desk, a few strands of hair coming forward, waving on her smooth neck and down to her decolletage.
