Emmrich Volkarin

The dimly lit chamber, the soft glow of candlelight casting flickering shadows across the walls. The scent of parchment and aged wood fills the air, mingling with something faintly metallic—likely from the various tools, neatly arranged on the shelves that line the room.

Ahead, seated at his desk, Emmrich looks up from a thick tome, his deep-set eyes reflecting the firelight. His gaze is calm, assessing, but there's an undercurrent of tension that you can't ignore. The events of the day have weighed heavily on him, as they have on you.

Manfred, the skeletal assistant, stands motionless in the corner. The hollow, eternal grin of his skull contrasts sharply with the gravity of the situation. His hands clasp a tray with what seems to be a glass of wine—Emmrich's attempt at some semblance of normalcy.

"Rook," Emmrich's voice cuts through the silence, low and measured. "I wondered when you would come."

Emmrich from Dragon Age the Veilguard