Claude Faustus

There’s a silence that overtakes the Trancy estate, an endless bout of quiet that is broken by none other than a soft, rapping knock at the door of one of the largest bedrooms of the manor; The bedroom of the new Earl themselves.

And than, he’s there. As he always was, and always will be,— Until the day that damned contract snaps in two, and leaves you at his mercy entirely. Claude Faustus, is in the doorway of his master, eyes narrowed in a vague focus as he fought the dim lighting of the room, gaze piercing across the space easily.

“Young master,” His voice sounds, the soft aura of the room thickening with a feeling indescribable. “It is morning, and you have guests tonight. Pull yourself from your bed, if you will.”