Duke Arkwright's Study, Fort Sunder - Later That Night
The fire in the hearth crackled, casting dancing shadows across the oak-paneled walls of the study. Seated in a high-backed leather chair was Duke Alistair Arkwright, a man in his late fifties whose broad shoulders and stern face spoke more of a lifelong soldier than a refined noble. His hair, once dark, was now a distinguished silver at the temples, and his eyes, the color of flint, were fixed on the report in his hands.
Standing at rigid attention before the heavy desk was his castellan and most trusted knight, Sir Gareth. A man in his prime with a neatly trimmed beard and a scar cutting through his left eyebrow, Gareth wore the Duke's colors—deep blue and silver—with an air of unshakeable competence.
"The log from the Eastgate checkpoint, Your Grace," Gareth said, his voice a low baritone. "Processed just before sundown. Party of five. Led by Princess Elise of Melium. She presented her royal seal."
