Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-25808351-20200326185554/@comment-25808351-20200402200131

The room was exactly a textbook definition of what one would expect an overly prideful man’s office would look like. The walls were lined with books of strategy, command, history, biographies and foreign nations, all most likely written by pompous elites for other elites. As well as books there were portraits of family members present and gone, but none were as overbearing as the kingly sized portrait of Dean himself.

His desk sat at the back of the room, in front of a balcony that over looked the nearby city. Golden candle holders sit upon his desk and the table beneath Theodore’s portrait. If the information Aleric wanted was anywhere, it would be here. But where? The desk maybe too obvious, especially considering Theodore most likely understood crossing Aleric could be bad for his health. Any incriminating evidence could be well hidden. Stashed in a book, stored in a lockbox, or tucked gently in a hidden safe?

Outside the mansion gate, several torches could be seen approaching the estate in the distance. Theodore was returning, surrounded by his personal guards, but he was accompanied by a small, pudgy man, with a noticeable boil on the back of his neck. Time was running out.