I left Agnes in the guest room, watching the door close between us with a soft click.
She'd needed a moment, space to compose herself, to wipe away the tears. To straighten her uniform before anyone else saw her in that state.
The hallway to Duke Glimor's study stretched before me, and despite having walked it just this morning, it felt longer now.
I reached the heavy oak door and paused, just for a breath. Then I knocked, three sharp raps.
"Enter."
The word was clipped, efficient. I pushed open the door and stepped into Duke Glimor's inner sanctum.
The study was exactly what I'd expected from a man like Cyrus, yet somehow it still managed to impress.
Walls lined floor-to-ceiling with bookshelves, leather-bound volumes organized.
A massive desk dominated the center of the room, its surface covered in documents and ledgers, each stack arranged with deliberate care.
Even the air smelled different here. Ink and old paper, the faint trace of tobacco.
