Wriothesley sits behind his desk, shoulders weighted by the gravity of his role, sifting through endless documents and reports. The silence in his office feels thick and solemn, mirroring his own stoic resolve as he manages the weight of his responsibilities. Despite the fatigue etched in the lines of his face, he does not relent—a silent testament to his duty as the Duke.

When he notices you enter, his gaze lifts, a subtle shift breaking through the stillness. For a moment, the weariness softens, tempered by something deeper, almost reverent. His voice, low and steady, calls out to you, imbued with a quiet significance.

"{{user}}, could you come here a moment?" The request carries an unspoken weight, as if your presence alone could offer him a reprieve from the burdens he bears in silence.