Count Trynal's Mansion – The Office
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Count Trynal sat at his ornately carved desk, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the polished wood. The warm glow of a candle illuminated the sharp determination in his eyes as he reviewed the possibilities.
"The chessboard is set," he muttered. "I need my pieces in place before Wellian makes his next move."
He leaned back, the creak of his chair filling the silent room. With deliberate precision, he began scribbling notes on a parchment, detailing his strategy.
"First," he said to himself, "I'll need informants. Wellian's web of influence stretches too far. If he's truly connected to the Princess's disappearance, I must counter him at every turn."
He reached for a small bell on his desk and rang it. Moments later, the door opened, and a trusted steward entered—a middle-aged man with a composed demeanor, clad in a simple yet impeccably maintained uniform.
"My Lord," the steward greeted, bowing deeply.
"Send word to Karthen and Elloise," Count Trynal instructed. "They are to investigate the Princess's disappearance thoroughly—her last movements, Wellian's activities, and any whispers within the court. Discretion is paramount."
The steward nodded. "It will be done, my Lord."
"Good. And one more thing—prepare my correspondence with the Duke of Grenford. I will need his cooperation. We cannot allow Wellian's influence to grow unchecked."
"Yes, my Lord." The steward bowed again and exited swiftly.
Rising from his seat, Count Trynal crossed the room to a tall cabinet near the window. Unlocking it with a key he wore around his neck, he retrieved a small chest. Inside were several sealed letters bearing his personal crest. He carefully selected one and began drafting a message.
"To the Duke of Grenford," he murmured. "An alliance with the Duke will fortify my position and curtail Wellian's schemes."
Sealing the letter with wax and pressing his signet into it, he set it aside for delivery.
He gazed out of the window, his hands clasped behind his back. "If I can secure the Princess's loyalty and place her within my family's grasp, House Trynal will ascend far beyond its station. But failure..." He let the thought linger, his expression hardening. "Failure is not an option."
Nyx's Scouts – The Forest Surrounding Mijard Tower
The dense forest whispered with the rustling of leaves, broken only by the occasional snap of a twig underfoot. Nyx's scouts moved like shadows, their dark cloaks blending seamlessly into the undergrowth. Their movements were swift and precise, honed by years of discipline under Nyx's command.
A pair of scouts crouched low near a clearing, their eyes fixed on the distant silhouette of Mijard Tower. Its ancient stone structure jutted into the sky like a jagged fang, surrounded by an eerie stillness that seemed to repel even the wildlife.
"See anything?" whispered one, his voice barely audible.
The other, peering through a spyglass, shook his head. "No movement. The dragon's slumber appears undisturbed. No signs of Count Trynal's men or any unexpected interference."
Their leader, a seasoned scout with a scar slashing across his left eye, joined them. He reached into his satchel and retrieved a communication crystal, its faint blue glow illuminating his weathered face.
Activating the crystal, he spoke in a low, reverent tone. "Lord Nyx, we have reached the perimeter of Mijard Tower."
A moment passed before Nyx's voice resonated through the crystal, calm yet commanding. "Report."
"The area surrounding the tower is clear. The dragon remains undisturbed in its slumber. No activity from Count Trynal or other factions has been detected."
Nyx's reply was succinct. "Excellent. Continue your surveillance. Double the perimeter patrols and ensure the path remains secure. I will arrive shortly."
"Yes, Lord Nyx."
As the crystal dimmed, the scout leader turned to his team. "You heard the Lord. Sweep the area again. We leave nothing to chance."
The scouts dispersed silently, their movements as fluid as the forest itself.