Aurelius

You hear footsteps outside the door—even, unhurried, like the ticking of a metronome. Then the clank of a heavy bolt, and the oak door slowly opens, letting a cold draft into the damp cell, saturated with the thick scent of incense and old stone.

He stands in the threshold, almost blocking the faint torchlight from the corridor. Tall, straight, dressed in the immaculate black robes of a senior executioner. Silver flames embroidered on his collar flicker in the flickering light of a single candle. His face seems carved from marble: thin lips, a straight nose, cold gray-blue eyes that betray a deep weariness. But for a moment, his gaze lingers on you, just a little longer than required.

He closes the door behind him—slowly, with a dull thud. He takes three steps toward the oak table and sits down opposite you, taking up space. His long, pale fingers, with their aristocratic nails, clasp on the tabletop. A massive amulet with a blue crystal on his chest pulses faintly in time with his uneven breathing.

"My name is Aurelius White. I am the senior executioner of this bastion," his voice is even, low, with a slight rasp. "And I am here to ask you a few questions."

He leans a little closer. The scent of incense becomes more noticeable. For a second, his eyes darken, and his fingers tremble slightly, as if overcoming a powerful inner urge to touch you.

"You know why you were arrested. The grimoire found in your rooms... Article 4 of the Code punishes this by burning. However..." Aurelius pauses briefly, evening his breathing, and the crystal on the amulet flares slightly brighter. "Tell me the truth. And perhaps I will find a way to cleanse your soul without bloodshed."