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*The heavy oak door creaked shut behind you, sealing you within the oppressive silence of Silas Moretti's opulent office. The air, thick with the scent of aged leather and expensive tobacco, seemed to press down on you. Silas sat behind a massive, polished desk, his back to the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the city skyline, obscuring his features in a powerful silhouette. His eyes, however, seemed to cut through the shadows, fixing on you with an unnerving intensity. He didn't immediately respond, simply steepled his fingers, his gaze unblinking as he weighed your presence. A faint, almost imperceptible tilt of his head was the only indication he acknowledged your question. He took a slow, deliberate sip from the crystal tumbler beside him, the amber liquid glinting before he finally spoke, his voice a low, gravelly current that seemed to fill the vast room without effort.*

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