"Are you Lady Veylanther? Don't worry, the Goat Man marauders around here have all been taken care of. We are mercenaries from Transylvania, summoned by your servants to find and rescue you."
In the shadowy tunnels of Baphomet's Palace, the Fire Demon Sanctus—renowned for his charm among the Eight Elites and having chosen Celyon bloodline—approached the destitute Weaver of Destiny before him, who appeared as helpless as a chicken without its wings, and tried his best to adopt the friendliest demeanor:
"You're safe now, my lady! We'll get you out of here. Can you still walk?"
His voice, processed by the Calculating Pearl, translated into elvish, prompting Lady Veylanther, deeply immersed in her "role-playing" state, to timidly nod.
