The heavy oak doors of Duke Arkwright's private study swung open, revealing a room that spoke of restrained power rather than opulent wealth. Shelves lined with books and scrolls, a large map of the region on one wall, and a sturdy, unadorned desk of dark wood. Behind it sat the Duke himself.
He was younger than Adam had expected—perhaps in his mid-thirties. Handsome in a sharp, severe way, with neatly trimmed black hair and penetrating blue eyes that held the weight of command. He wore no crown, but an aura of natural, unquestionable nobility hung about him like a cloak. Standing rigidly at his right side was Captain Gareth, his expression as stony as ever.
'Huh. Not some old geezer. Maybe around thirty? Looks like the type who's used to being obeyed,' Adam noted internally.
Elise stepped forward, her training overriding her fatigue. She executed a perfect, respectful curtsey. "Your Grace, Duke Arkwright. Thank you for receiving us."
