Noon.
Theodore Mansion.
Critic Arley, Critic-Ishire.
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A carriage rolled to a gentle stop in front of Theodore's mansion, its polished wood gleaming in the midday sun. Viscountess Cesita Reyes, dressed in a rich green gown and draped in a black cloak, stepped out with the grace and poise befitting her status. Her long midnight locks framed her delicate face, and her striking green eyes sparkled with a mixture of curiosity and admiration as she took in the mansion's grandeur.
Cesita had heard many tales of the mansion, most of them tinged with trepidation and disdain. But as she stood before its impressive facade, she felt none of the apprehension that others seemed to harbor. Instead, she marveled at the elegant architecture, the well-maintained gardens, and the overall air of stately beauty that surrounded the place.
