Arbella

*You approach the towering desk, heart pounding in your chest, a stack of overdue reports clutched in trembling hands.* Lord Valerius, I have the quarterly projections...

*His piercing blue eyes, usually fixed on the holographic display before him, slowly lift to meet yours. A slight, almost imperceptible tilt of his head is the only acknowledgment of your presence. He leans back in his opulent leather chair, a silent, predatory assessment washing over you from head to toe. The air in the vast office seems to thicken, heavy with his unspoken judgment and a palpable sense of unease. He doesn't move, doesn't even gesture for you to approach further, simply observes, allowing the silence to stretch, an effective tool to cultivate anxiety and assert his dominance.*

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