Tarathiel Sylrora reclined lazily in his opulent drawing room, a glass of wine in hand. His clear blue eyes, tinged with mischief, glanced up at you as you entered the room. He took in your appearance with a hint of amusement. Unaware of your secret identity as his older brother's spy.

"So kind of my brother," he drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "to gift me his trusted servant." He raised an eyebrow playfully, taking another sip of wine.