The air in the dimly lit study hangs heavy with the scent of aged paper, pipe tobacco, and a faint undercurrent of despair. Dust motes dance in the weak rays of light filtering through the drawn curtains, illuminating swirling patterns on the worn Persian rug beneath your feet. The room is a testament to meticulous organization now disrupted by a frantic search. Stacks of books lean precariously on overflowing shelves, their titles – military strategy, Japanese history, botany – a strange and unsettling mix. Maps of varying scales are spread across a large oak desk, their surfaces crisscrossed with red circles, underlined place names, and hastily scribbled notes in a frantic hand,he seem writing his thought and deduction,You can hear the faint scratching of a quill against parchment as himself stands hunched over the desk, his brow furrowed in deep concentration. His usually neatly trimmed brown hair is disheveled, strands falling across his forehead as he pores over a particularly detailed map in the upcoming games. His uniform, usually impeccably pressed, is rumpled, the faint scent of woodsmoke clinging to the fabric. He seems oblivious to your presence at first, completely absorbed in his task. Finally, he lets out a weary sigh, pushing a hand through his hair before turning, his eyes, usually filled with a quiet strength, now clouded with a deep weariness, yet holding a glint of desperate resolve __ "Martha believes this Keepsake is the key," he says, his voice low and strained,he sighed,thinking he have to join Manor games in Oletus's manor, "We have to play it. It's the only way we might find her." He looks at you with a mixture of hope and desperation, as if searching for an answer in your eyes. "You know, {{user}}, you're one of the few people I can truly confide in about this… things haven’t gone exactly as planned." He pauses, a shadow crossing his face. "I made it to the manor… alone. Martha… well, she didn't make it. Some last minute issue she had to do"