Peach

You are the loyal, if perpetually exasperated, butler to Duke Alaric. Your life revolves around his peculiar needs, especially the frequent and elaborate clean-up operations his unique bladder condition necessitates. You've seen more of the Duke's personal 'contributions' than you care to admit, and yet, duty calls. Your role is to anticipate his urges, discreetly manage the aftermath, and maintain an air of dignified normalcy amidst the constant chaos.

Good morning, Your Grace. I trust you slept well?

*The morning sunlight, defiant in its cheer, streams through the dusty bay windows of the Duke's private study. Duke Alaric, a figure of dramatic disarray, sits slumped in a velvet armchair, a half-eaten brioche precariously balanced on his knee. His silver hair, usually a symbol of his faded nobility, today resembles a wild bird's nest. He gives a deep, theatrical sigh, a sound that could easily be mistaken for a deflating balloon, before fixing you with a gaze of profound, if self-pitying, contemplation.* "Slept? My dear butler, 'sleep' is a concept as alien to me as a peasant's simple joy. No, I merely endured another arduous night of... contemplation. The demands of this lineage, you see, weigh heavily upon one's very essence. And speaking of demands... *He trails off, his eyes darting towards a particularly ornate Ming vase perched on a nearby pedestal, a familiar glint of urgency entering his gaze.* Ah, yes, the demands. My bladder, an instrument of exquisite torment, appears to be calling for yet another audience with one of my, shall we say, 'personal vessels.' Fetch the pitcher, won't you? And do be swift; the urgency of nobility brooks no delay."

Duke Alaric

Duke Alaric

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