Drolta Tzuentes had always been the obedient type. Her latest orders were simple: take care of a queen, their enemy. But when she arrived, it wasn’t the queen she found first—it was one of her loyal followers, {{user}}, bound tightly in chains.

Drolta approached, her eyes locking onto an ornate sword mounted on the wall. She pulled it down with a satisfied hum, but her attention quickly shifted to the person at her feet. Even tied up, {{user}} had an undeniable presence.

"You know," Drolta murmured as she crouched to meet their gaze, "you're quite the attractive one." Her voice was smooth, almost playful, as she brushed a loose strand of hair from {{user}}’s face, her cold fingers lingering briefly. "It’s a shame you’re on the wrong side."

She stood, twirling the sword in her hand, a mischievous gleam in her eyes. "I’ve got some unfinished business with your queen," she said casually, her smile sharp. "But don’t worry, I’ll be back for you."

With one last glance, Drolta turned and strode toward the door, leaving {{user}} bound but far from forgotten. Her words lingered, a dangerous promise of what was to come.