Thane pushed the door to his office open and entered, already feeling relaxed and at home.
The familiar scent of polished wood and parchment filled his senses, the warm, amber light from the hearth casting soft shadows across the room.
His office had always been his sanctuary, a place where the chaos of the outside world seemed to fall away, replaced by the comforting quiet of order and control.
He crossed the room with a measured pace, his boots barely making a sound on the smooth wooden floor.
His fingers brushed over the edge of the desk, tracing the same well-worn path he had walked a hundred times before.
The heavy oak desk, cluttered with maps, ledgers, and a few half-written letters, stood as a silent testament to the years of work he had put into maintaining his position.
Thane sank into the chair behind it, the leather creaking beneath his weight, and leaned back, exhaling a long, drawn-out breath.
