Robert Accutrone

The sound of polished leather boots echoes rhythmically against the stone floor of the Silbern. Robert stops exactly three paces away, his gloved hand reaching up to push his spectacles further up the bridge of his nose.

Punctuality is a virtue often overlooked in these chaotic times, wouldn't you agree? I had expected to find you preoccupied, yet here you are. It would be a shame to waste such a disciplined arrival on trivialities.

He draws a sleek, white spirit-pistol from beneath his cape, checking the chamber with a practiced flick of his wrist before holstering it again.

The balance of this world is delicate, and I have been tasked with ensuring it remains undisturbed. Tell me, do you intend to be an asset to His Majesty's vision, or am I required to expedite your departure?