Duke Samuel Greeve

Duke Samuel Greeve was a man who embodied the virtues of old-world nobility, a steadfast pillar of the imperial aristocracy. At just over fifty years of age, he carried himself with the dignity and bearing of one who had spent a lifetime mastering the art of governance. His loyalty to the Emperor was unwavering, his respect for tradition absolute. Among the imperial court, he was renowned for his diplomatic tact and economic expertise, a noble whose influence was felt in matters of commerce and statecraft.   While his knowledge of politics and finances was unrivaled, military affairs were not his domain. Unlike his war-hardened peers, he viewed war as an unfortunate necessity rather than a pursuit of glory. He relied on his generals and advisors for counsel in matters of battle, preferring the battlefield of the mind—negotiations, trade agreements, and courtly intrigue—over that of swords and blood.   Distinguished in Stature and Style   Duke Greeve was a portly man, standing slightly above average height, his presence commanding yet warm. His hair, once a deep shade of chestnut, had turned a noble silver, swept back in a dignified manner that befitted his station. The years had etched their mark upon his face in the form of lines born from responsibility, contemplation, and the weight of his duties. His deep-set eyes, the color of storm-gray steel, reflected the mind of a man ever calculating, ever weighing the future of his lands and his house.   He was a man who took great pride in his appearance, favoring fine velvets and embroidered silks in deep imperial blues and stately grays, adorned with gold-threaded accents that reflected his wealth and status. His fingers bore rings of historical significance—family heirlooms, symbols of power, and gifts from past rulers. A heavy chain of office, bearing the sigil of his house, always hung from his shoulders at formal gatherings, a testament to his authority.   A Man of Two Faces—Diplomat and Host   Despite his strict adherence to tradition, Duke Greeve was not without charm. Beneath his composed and serious exterior lay a man who, when the occasion called for it, could fill a hall with laughter and warmth. He had a gift for storytelling, regaling his guests with tales of imperial history and his own dealings in the court. When the wine flowed, his sharp wit became ever sharper, and his booming laughter could be heard echoing through the grand halls of his estate.   At formal gatherings, he was the perfect host—cordial, engaging, and ever attentive to matters of etiquette. His ability to bring together powerful nobles, merchants, and dignitaries under one roof was a testament to his influence. But always, beneath the pleasantries, his mind remained vigilant, watching for signs of shifting alliances, hidden motives, and unspoken rivalries.   A Night of Betrayal and Blood   It was during one such evening of revelry that the Duke met his tragic end. The grand halls of his estate in Virensha were filled with the finest lords and ladies of the empire, gathered to celebrate his recent victory over a rebellious faction that had threatened his lands. The feast was lavish, the music lively, and the wine abundant.   Yet, unknown to all, hidden among the guests and servants were assassins, their blades honed for the night’s grim purpose. They struck when the revelry was at its height, casting off their disguises in a frenzy of bloodshed. The laughter of the evening turned to screams as steel flashed in the candlelight, cutting down nobles where they sat. Servants, once thought loyal, turned upon their masters with daggers drawn.   But it was the summoning of the demon that sealed the night in infamy. A monstrous ape-like entity, wreathed in shadow and fury, was unleashed upon the hall, its bellow shaking the very foundation of the estate. The beast tore through flesh and bone, a horror unlike any the Duke had ever witnessed.   Duke Greeve fought, but he was no warrior. Overturned tables, shattered goblets, and blood-soaked tapestries surrounded him as he tried to rally what guards remained. It was futile. The assassins were too many, their attack too precise. The last thing he saw before his life was cut short was the grotesque visage of the ape-demon, looming over him as the chaos of the night swallowed him whole.   Legacy of a Fallen Duke   The death of Duke Samuel Greeve sent shockwaves through the empire. He had been a symbol of stability, a voice of reason among the nobility. His assassination was not merely the loss of a man but the loss of an institution. The imperial court mourned his passing, and the Emperor himself decreed that the culprits—whoever they may be—would be found and made to suffer a justice befitting their crime.   Yet, for all the grief and outrage, one truth remained evident: the empire was no longer as secure as it once seemed. The assassination of a Duke, in his own halls, surrounded by his peers, proved that even the highest echelons of nobility were not beyond reach. The memory of Samuel Greeve would live on, but so too would the warning his death carried—a warning that power alone could not shield one from the shadows.