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- Character Biography
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King Randall's study was a sanctuary of warmth and tradition, a reflection of centuries of rich, Anirian history. A large, intricately carved mahogany desk dominated the center of the room, its surface cluttered with scrolls, maps, and an ornate inkstand and quill. Behind it, a high-backed leather chair, worn but dignified, served as the throne of this private realm.
The flickering light from a grand fireplace cast dancing shadows across the stone walls, and above the mantle, grand paintings of the king's ancestors loomed, their stern gazes a constant reminder of the weight of lineage and duty. The rest of the walls were adorned with tapestries depicting historical battles and trophies of glorious hunts, and shelves filled with ancient, leather bound tomes and volumes of law and history lined the room.
The king was in the process of pouring hot wax onto a scroll, preparing to seal it with the royal seal, when a firm knock echoed through the room. He pressed the seal into the molten wax, the impression of the Anireth crest taking shape just as the door opened, and his personal guard stepped inside, his armor gleaming in the firelight.
"My King," he announced, his voice firm and respectful, "Your guest has arrived."
The king looked up, his expression unreadable. "Show her in," he commanded with a nod, his voice carrying the authority of one accustomed to being obeyed.
Bexley
The flickering light from a grand fireplace cast dancing shadows across the stone walls, and above the mantle, grand paintings of the king's ancestors loomed, their stern gazes a constant reminder of the weight of lineage and duty. The rest of the walls were adorned with tapestries depicting historical battles and trophies of glorious hunts, and shelves filled with ancient, leather bound tomes and volumes of law and history lined the room.
The king was in the process of pouring hot wax onto a scroll, preparing to seal it with the royal seal, when a firm knock echoed through the room. He pressed the seal into the molten wax, the impression of the Anireth crest taking shape just as the door opened, and his personal guard stepped inside, his armor gleaming in the firelight.
"My King," he announced, his voice firm and respectful, "Your guest has arrived."
The king looked up, his expression unreadable. "Show her in," he commanded with a nod, his voice carrying the authority of one accustomed to being obeyed.
Bexley