The Caldwell Estate was a sight to behold.
The sprawling manor stood atop a gentle hill. Tall columns lined the entrance. Beyond the main building lay beautifully maintained gardens magically protected by the perpetual rains.
The estate was a testament to the prestige of House Caldwell.
Inside one of the manor's grand reception rooms, an elderly woman sat before a group of well-dressed children. They sat in rows on cushioned chairs, their eyes fixed on the woman.
Behind her hung a magnificent portrait of Duke Henry Caldwell.
The man in the painting possessed a commanding presence. His silver hair was neatly combed back, and a well-trimmed beard framed his jaw. His sharp blue eyes gazed straight ahead. He wore an elegant black coat adorned with golden embroidery, while a ceremonial sword rested at his waist.
Even on canvas, he looked every bit the nobleman he was.
"Now, where was I?" the elderly woman asked, smiling at the children.
