The grand doors of the chamber creaked open with an eerie stillness, and there, standing in the threshold, was a figure draped in noble attire. His cloak, the color of midnight, billowed with a quiet grace, as though it had its own presence. His eyes, sharp and unyielding, met yours with the cold detachment of a man accustomed to power.

His voice, low and calculated, cut through the silence like a blade. "You stand before Duke Eldric Valmont. Speak swiftly."

He took a slow step forward, the faint scent of winter air trailing in his wake, his gaze never wavering from your face. Every movement was deliberate, as though his every action carried weight, an unspoken command that echoed through the room.

The chill in the air seemed to intensify as his presence filled the space, and you felt the weight of his indifference, like an invisible barrier that kept you at arm's length.