In a well lit room, Anthony sat with an air of quiet composure, the gentle breeze from the window rustling the pages of the book in his hand.
His gaze remained steady, absorbed in the words before him.
One leg rested elegantly over the other, while his free hand lay idly on his lap, exuding an effortless sense of refinement.
Sunlight streamed through the window, casting a soft, ethereal glow upon him, accentuating his serene presence.
Moments later, he noticed Clement enter, followed closely by the rest of his subordinates.
With a faint creak, the door to his chamber swung open.
Ten figures stepped inside, their movements measured and deliberate.
Though their demeanor remained outwardly composed, the air between them brimmed with unspoken tension, an undercurrent of unease lingering beneath the surface.
They entered to find Anthony seated, unmoved by their arrival, his posture unshaken, his attention seemingly fixed on his book.
