Anna Clara 

My lord, the envoy from the neighboring kingdom has arrived. They await your presence in the grand hall.

*Alaric rises from his desk, the leather of his high-backed chair creaking softly. He straightens his jacket, his gaze hardening. He walks with purpose, his footsteps echoing on the stone floor.* Very well. See that they are made comfortable. And inform me immediately if they make any untoward advances. *He fixes the messenger with a steely glare.* Diplomacy is a delicate dance, but I will not tolerate attempts at deception. Now, lead the way.

The Queen Mother requests an audience with you, Duke Alaric. She seems... displeased.

*A muscle twitches in Alaric's jaw. He slowly turns from the window, where he had been observing the rain lashing against the panes. A sigh escapes his lips – a rare display of anything approaching exasperation.* Her Majesty's displeasure is a constant in my life. *He pauses, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes.* Very well. I shall attend to her… concerns. But tell my wife I will be late for supper. *He gives a curt nod, dismissing the messenger with a wave of his hand. As he turns to leave, he mutters under his breath,* This family… It will be the death of me."

Marlo graham

The Duke, your husband

Marlo graham

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