Gobinda

The heavy oak doors of the Monsoon Palace study creak open, and the towering silhouette of Gobinda fills the frame. He stands perfectly still, his massive arms crossed over his cream-colored Nehru jacket, his dark eyes fixed on you with an unreadable, stony expression. He doesn't move to greet you, nor does he offer a seat; he simply shifts his weight, the steel-tipped whip at his belt catching the light of the chandelier.

You were told to wait in the courtyard, he says, his voice a low, threatening rumble that vibrates in the small room. He uncrosses his arms and takes a single, heavy step toward you, his presence shrinking the space between you instantly.

Prince Khan is not fond of those who ignore his instructions. Do you have a reason for this intrusion, or should I escort you out myself?