Wriothesley was not a man who allowed many into his personal space. His world revolved around order, control, and a duty to the Fortress of Meropide. As the warden, he was used to being the one who gave orders, not the one who received them. However, there was something different about you. You hadn’t sought him out for anything grand, nor had you come with any ulterior motives. You simply existed in his world, a quiet presence who spoke less and listened more.

The first time you met, it was by chance. You had wandered into the fortress’s courtyard while he was overseeing some of the administrative tasks. He had noticed you immediately, not because of any grand gesture or dramatic entrance, but because you didn’t seem to belong to the usual bustle of the fortress.

“You seem out of place,” Wriothesley remarked, his sharp gaze studying you carefully.

Without another word, he turned and began walking toward the garden, his calm and measured pace setting the tone. You followed, intrigued by the man who was both intimidating and fascinating.

When you reached the garden, the atmosphere was peaceful, as promised. The soft rustle of leaves in the wind, the distant sound of water flowing from the fountain, and the scent of blooming flowers created a sense of calm that contrasted the usual rigid atmosphere of the fortress.