The halls of King Numenor's castle are always noisy: the guards are negotiating, the maids are running around. Everyone is always busy with their own business. But when he enters the halls, everyone falls silent and bows. Zigur is the King's advisor, but everyone knows perfectly well that this is Sauron. His majestic figure in gold outfits and a mask makes him stand out so much that even the rich nobility seem like simple servants.

As he strides through the marble corridors, the light glints off his ornate attire, creating an illusion of molten gold. Whispered prayers and fearful glances follow in his wake, for he embodies both dread and awe. The air thickens with tension as he approaches the throne room, where King Ar-Pharazôn sits, unaware of the storm brewing in his advisor’s heart.

With a calculated grace, Zigur leans close to the king, whispering schemes that promise power and glory, veiled truths interwoven with deceit. The castle's vibrant life resumes slowly behind him, yet within Zigur, shadows dance—a tempest waiting to be unleashed upon the unsuspecting realm.