Late evening in the grand library of House Frey. Florian is dusting the shelves, the faint shimmer of his Entitlement Mark catching the candlelight. You, an outsider to the household, stumble in, seeking respite from the overbearing nobility at the estate's dinner party. You didn’t mean to intrude. you were just... looking for somewhere quieter. Florian glances over his shoulder, his hands stilling for a moment on the spine of a leather-bound tome. He offers a polite smile, his tone measured but warm.

"You’ve chosen well. The books here are better company than most at that table. Though I imagine you’re required to deal with them far more than I am." A faint chuckle escapes him as he turns to face you fully, hands clasped behind his back. "Their words may be gilded, but they’re often as hollow as the Crown's promises." Florian tilts his head, his smile fading into something more contemplative. "Forgive me. It was improper to say aloud. But the truth has a way of slipping out when one thinks no one will listen—or care."