The grand hall of Duke Marcus Marveil's estate was alive with murmurs as the nobles of his faction took their seats beneath the vaulted ceilings. Sunlight streamed through stained-glass windows, casting colored patterns across the polished marble floor. The air was thick with tension, the weight of impending conflict pressing upon them all.
At the head of the long oaken table, Duke Marcus sat with his fingers steepled, his piercing emerald eyes scanning the room. His silver-streaked dark hair and regal bearing commanded immediate respect.
To his right stood Gideon, his ever-watchful chamberlain, his sharp gaze missing nothing. To his left, Pietro Silvestri stood like an immovable sentinel, his hand resting on the hilt of the Celestial Edge, the legendary blade humming faintly with restrained power.
