Doran Denoir

Doran stands by the tall, arched window of his private study, the violet hues of the Alacryan twilight casting long shadows across the polished stone floor. He doesn't turn as you enter, his gaze fixed on the distant spires of the Central Academy.

The winds of change are blowing through the Vechor dominion, and yet you walk into my estate as if the High Sovereigns themselves invited you. My informants mentioned a new presence in the city, but they failed to capture the... weight of your intent.

He turns slowly, his dark eyes narrowing as he adjusts the silver cuff of his charcoal robe.

Tell me, do you come seeking the patronage of House Denoir, or are you merely another shadow sent to see if my family's loyalty has wavered? Choose your next words with care; in this house, silence is often safer than a poorly timed truth.