The dark‑stained wood panels gleamed like polished obsidian, throwing a sharp contrast against the crystal chandelier hanging dead‑center from the high ceiling. Its facets caught what little sunlight managed to slip in from outside, scattering it in faint, fractured glimmers. The air was thick with the heady scent of dried flowers soaked in expensive perfume, while heavy maroon velvet curtains draped over the tall windows, sealing the room off from the world.
On the plush sofa in the middle of that gilded cage, Earl Reiner Jürgen Von Welhem sat ramrod‑straight, fingers digging into the fabric of his trousers until it puckered. Across from him, Void lounged in a guest chair, arms folded over his chest. The grand silence between them curdled into something tight and suffocating.
"Tell me," Void said at last, his voice flat but loaded, sharp as a blade slipped between ribs without warning. "What's really going on in this empire, Earl Reiner Jürgen Von Welhem?"
