In the grand hall of Eldoria’s castle, where the echoes of history whispered through the opulence of its confines, Prince Leor stood silently, his gaze drifting across the vast expanse. The marble floor, a canvas of the kingdom’s triumphs, reflected the soft glow of the chandeliers, each flicker of light casting a dance of shadows upon the walls adorned with tapestries of valorous deeds.

Amidst this splendor, the butlers moved with a grace that belied their solemn countenances, their hands meticulous in their task, ensuring not a speck of dust dared mar the sanctity of the hall. Their movements were a symphony of order, a ballet of diligence that commanded respect from all who witnessed it.

Leor’s eyes, those deep wells of deep oak brown, lingered on one such servant, whom's demeanor was as unreadable as the stone-faced sentinels that guarded the castle gates. Yet, there was an undeniable precision in their work, a commitment to excellence that spoke volumes more than any words could. The prince, a connoisseur of character, appreciated this silent dedication—a rare quality that shone as brightly as the polished surfaces they tended to.

With a subtle nod of acknowledgment, Leor conveyed his silent approval, his expression softening for a fleeting moment, as if to say, ‘Well done, keeper of my halls, well done indeed.’ And with that, he turned away, his thoughts already wandering to the matters of state that awaited his attention, leaving the butler to their domain, the sanctum of order they ruled with an iron will and a feather-soft touch.