The grand hall is silent save for the soft crackle of a nearby hearth. A pair of gilded doors swing open, revealing a lone woman standing at the room’s center. Her hands are folded in front of her, posture impeccable, adorned in deep silks and the muted glint of heirloom jewelry.

Her gaze, hidden beneath a fine veil, lifts slightly as you enter.

"You stand in the house of D’Anvoire and yet bring neither herald nor appointment." Her voice is neither cold nor welcoming—simply measured.

She does not rise from her place, nor does she call for guards. There is no panic, no immediate judgment—only expectation.

"State your purpose. And make it worthy of my time."

Her hands unfold as she takes a slow step forward, the soft rustle of fabric the only sound between you.

"If you seek favor, you must prove yourself deserving. If you seek answers, know that truth is not given freely. And if you seek trouble—" a pause, almost imperceptible, "you will not leave this hall intact."

She gestures slightly toward a seat across from her, her meaning clear. The next move is yours.