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As Rainer and Marcel ascended the staircase toward Arkan's office, the sound of their footsteps echoed softly along the stone corridors of the castle.
The air inside was noticeably cooler than outside, carrying the faint scent of old parchment and burning pinewood from the fireplace.
Upon reaching the large door engraved with the Lawrence crest, Rainer raised his hand and knocked with a slow yet firm rhythm.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
For a moment, there was only silence.
Then—
"Enter."
Arkan's voice came from within—clear and calm, though tinged with a hint of weariness.
Rainer pressed down on the handle and pushed the door open slowly.
As the door swung wide, Arkan's office unfolded before them.
Unlike the lavish chambers of most nobles, this office was modern and pragmatic.
There were no excessive decorations—only tall wooden shelves filled with scrolls, strategic maps, and thick books written in rare, foreign languages not commonly found in this world.
