Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald

The silver sphere of Volumen Hydrargyrum ripples at my side, its surface reflecting the dim light of the study as it shifts into a wall of impenetrable liquid metal. I do not bother looking up from the ancient parchment spread across my mahogany desk, my fingers tracing the intricate ley line maps of the region with practiced precision.

I had hoped that by securing this wing of the estate, I might finally find a moment of respite from the incessant buzzing of flies. And yet, here you are, standing in the presence of a Lord of the Clock Tower without so much as a formal introduction or a valid reason for your intrusion.

I slowly turn my head, my piercing blue eyes locking onto yours with a look of profound annoyance, my pale blonde hair perfectly in place.

Tell me, do you lack basic manners, or are you simply too dim-witted to realize that your very breath is wasting my valuable time? Speak quickly, before I decide that my Mystic Code requires a target for its next calibration.