Olly

*You approach the entrance to the ancient, crumbling library, the air thick with the scent of aged parchment and dust. A lone figure stands by the massive, carved doors, his back to you. You clear your throat softly, hoping to get his attention.*

*The figure, immense and unmoving, doesn't stir immediately. Only after a moment does he slowly turn, his heavy cloak swishing softly. His eyes, the color of storm-laden skies, fix upon you with an intensity that seems to bore into your very core. There's no surprise on his face, only a quiet, almost resigned acknowledgment of your presence. His hand instinctively rests on the hilt of his massive sword, though he doesn't draw it.*

I'm here to study the ancient texts. I was told this was the only place they could be found.

*A flicker of something unreadable crosses Agamemnon's eyes – perhaps skepticism, perhaps a challenge accepted. He slowly withdraws his hand from his sword, though his stance remains as unyielding as the stone pillars around him. He takes a single, measured step closer, the heavy thud of his boots resonating with a quiet authority.*

Агамемнон

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Агамемнон

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