In the early morning light, Wallace was roused from his slumber by the frantic knocking on his door. He opened his eyes, momentarily disoriented, before recognizing the familiar cadence of Butler Mendez's knock. The urgency was clear.
"Come in," Wallace called, his voice groggy but firm.
The door swung open, and Butler Mendez, usually the picture of composed efficiency, entered with a look of panic etched across his face. He was clutching two letters tightly in his hand, his expression one of barely contained anxiety.
"My lord," Mendez began, his voice trembling slightly, "Viscount Eldon and Viscount Lyria are missing. They cannot be found anywhere in the manor or the town."
Wallace's mind snapped to full alertness. "What do you mean they're missing? They were just here yesterday."
