The air in the mansion's newly designated "briefing room" was cold and still. The only light came from a single, enchanted crystal on the table, casting long, dancing shadows across the stone walls.
In the center of the room, a man was tied to a simple wooden chair. He was pale and trembling, his left arm ending in a crudely cauterized stump.
Dorian sat opposite him, calm and composed, with Seraphina standing at his side, holding a notepad.
Maria stood by the door, a silent, intimidating sentinel, her arms crossed.
Aces leaned against the far wall, casually wiping a spot of dried blood from his lightning-infused blade. He was the one to break the silence.
"He's a professional, my lord," Aces said, his usual lazy tone gone, replaced by a cold efficiency. "Mercenary scout. Goes by the name 'Silas'. It took some convincing, but he understands the importance of cooperation now."
The spy, Silas, flinched at the sound of Aces's voice.
