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The soft rustle of paper echoed through the tranquil room.
Walls swathed in dark mahogany and muted green, bore the weight of Zektra's opulent nature to design a suitable room for the person occupying it, their richness softened by the subtle glow of a gilded chandelier above.
Elenoir stepped into the serene space, her footsteps muffled by the plush carpet.
Her golden eyes flicked briefly to the ornate clock on the wall before settling on the hadnsome man behind the desk.
"Your Grace," she began, her voice gentle but resolute. "The rumors... They're spreading quicker than I could contain."
Gregory Glandza looked up, his green eyes weary yet attentive.
His son, Persius, caused trouble yet again.
Deciding that the Duke's workload will be handled by the Grand Duke either way, he opted to hang around hidden pubs, succumbing to lust from one woman to the other.
