Viscount Lyria and Eldon stood side by side in the grand hall of Toraz Manor, awaiting the arrival of Viscount Theron. The air was thick with tension, a palpable unease settling over everyone present. Servants moved about quietly, their footsteps barely audible on the polished marble floors. The grand windows of the hall allowed streams of morning sunlight to pour in, casting long shadows and highlighting the opulence of the space.
As the doors swung open, Viscount Theron strode in, his presence commanding immediate attention. He was a tall, imposing figure, dressed in finely tailored garments that exuded wealth and power. His eyes, sharp and calculating, swept over the hall and its occupants with a mixture of disdain and superiority.
"Lyria, Eldon," Theron began, his voice dripping with condescension. "I see you two have already made yourselves at home. How quaint."
