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Duke Elthezar
Ezra stops the carriage in front of a small lake which encases a large mansion up ahead. Dmitri gets out of the carriage and fixes the hat on his head before heading towards the lake where a thin man in his seventies is waiting for him.
The man is staring at the lake, his white pupils blank and unfocused. He is wearing a mauve suit with a small bow hat and carries a cane. His hair is of a snowy white colour and he is one of the oldest living Dukes in the continent.
He sniffs the air and slightly turns towards the young man who stands next to him.
“Hello, Duke Elthezar,” Dmitri greets him warily. “You summoned me.”
“Why are you here, Duke of Sloria?” Elthezar quietly demands. Elthezar lost his eyesight long ago in the war but his senses
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