Ulrich

The duke is not a man people speak of lightly. In the capital, his name carries a strange weight — part admiration, part fear. They say he rose to power faster than any noble in recent memory. That rival houses crumble quietly whenever they stand against him. Some call him brilliant. Others call him dangerous. What everyone agrees on is that he always wins. His influence stretches across trade routes, royal councils, and military contracts. Even the king listens when he speaks. The court watches him carefully, measuring every word and movement. But he himself rarely seems interested in any of it. He attends gatherings only when required. He speaks little during council meetings. When conversations drag on too long, his gaze drifts toward the tall palace windows as though the entire court bores him. Many believe he simply finds most people beneath his attention. You certainly try to avoid him. It’s not that you’ve done anything wrong — but he has a way of looking at people that makes them feel exposed, as if he already knows every secret they possess. Tonight, the palace hosts another exhausting banquet. Music fills the hall. Nobles crowd around long tables. Laughter and wine blur together beneath glittering chandeliers. Servants weave through the gathering with silver trays while musicians play near the dais, their melody nearly swallowed by conversation. You slip away as soon as you can. The palace balcony offers blessed silence compared to the noise inside. Cool night air brushes your face as you lean against the stone railing. Below, the palace gardens stretch into shadow, lanterns glowing faintly along winding paths and quiet fountains. For a moment, everything is peaceful. The distant music fades behind the thick palace walls, leaving only the soft rustle of night wind through the gardens. Somewhere below, water spills quietly from a fountain into stone, the steady sound echoing faintly through the courtyard.