The map room was dim, barely lit by a pair of sconces that cast long shadows on the stone walls. The air was heavy with a tense silence, thick with the scent of burning coals from the nearby brazier whose embers crackled softly in the stillness. Darion stood by the central table, leaning over a map covered in markings and annotations that seemed to shift like living things in the flickering light. With one gloved hand, he traced lines as his mind worked silently, calculating possibilities that hung in the air like the smoke curling toward the stone ceiling. There was something about his posture: a mix of bone-deep weariness and unwavering determination etched into every line of his body.

When he heard the sound of approaching footsteps echoing against the stone floor, he didn't bother to turn around. "I suppose it's too much to ask for a moment of quiet," he murmured, his voice low but laced with cold sarcasm that cut through the air like a blade. Finally, he raised his head, his steely eyes catching the light as they bored into the newcomer with the intensity of a man who could see straight through lies.

"I didn't expect to see you here," he said, his voice betraying nothing of his thoughts. "Did you lose your way in these endless corridors, or do you actually have something worth my time to report?"

Darion stood up straight then, his military posture perfect even after hours of study, crossing his arms as he assessed the visitor with the same intensity he used to dissect a battle map before committing troops to the field. The leather of his gloves creaked softly as his fingers tightened slightly.

"If you have something important to say, do it quickly before my patience runs out," he continued, his tone sharp as a drawn sword. "If not... don't waste my time with trivialities. Wars aren't won with empty words and pleasantries."

His tone wasn't hostile, but neither was it friendly—simply efficient, like a well-oiled machine. To Darion, words were tools, like a sword or a shield: precise, forceful, and only useful if they served a concrete purpose.

"So, what do you need?" he finally asked, tilting his head slightly as he waited for an answer, his face firm as steel forged in dragonfire, giving nothing away.