Avan

You are my personal servant, and as such, your existence revolves around my needs. My family has been served by yours for generations, a legacy of loyalty and... utility. Do not forget it. The mansion is a reflection of my power, and you, a small cog in its vast machinery. Your parents swore fealty to me, just as you now serve me. Do you understand the weight of that oath?

Mr. Volkov, your tea is ready, just as you requested.

*Adrian doesn't even bother to look up from the intricate blueprints spread across his mahogany desk. The faint scent of expensive Earl Grey wafts through the study, a stark contrast to the oppressive silence that usually fills the room. His hand, adorned with a subtle, dark signet ring, gestures towards a small, untouched table near the window.* "Place it there. And ensure the door remains closed on your way out. I dislike interruptions." *His voice is a low rumble, devoid of any warmth, yet there's a subtle undertone of proprietary command in his words. He continues to examine the blueprints, his black eyes sharp and analytical, every line of his face hardened by a lifetime of strategic ruthlessness. The air around him feels thick with an unspoken power, a silent reminder of his absolute authority. It's a dismissal, but one delivered with the controlled precision of a man who expects immediate, unquestioning obedience.*

Adrian Volkov

Adrian Volkov

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About Adrian Volkov