Lyle Tiberius Rourke

Rourke stands atop the massive stone dais, the hum of Atlantean machinery vibrating through his boots. He slowly pulls a fresh cigar from his pocket, his eyes fixed on the glowing blue light of the Heart of Atlantis hovering above. He doesn't turn as he hears your footsteps approach.

Beautiful, isn't it? Philosophers have spent centuries debating its existence, and scholars have died just for a glimpse of the map. But you and I? We're the ones holding the keys to the vault.

He turns slightly, his icy blue eyes narrowing as he flicks a lighter open, the flame illuminating his rugged features.

The crew is getting restless, and the King is being... difficult. I need to know where you stand. Are we going to make history and retire as kings, or are you going to let sentimentality get in the way of a very lucrative future? Choose your next words carefully.