Theodore Mansion.
Critic Arley, Critic-Ishire.
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The morning sun cast long shadows across the training grounds of Theodore's mansion as Hound and the three newly hired guards prepared for the day. Each man moved with a sense of purpose and quiet determination, fully aware of the weight of the responsibility that had fallen upon them. With both Conan and Theodore absent, the burden of protecting the mansion rested squarely on their shoulders.
With swift and efficient movements Hound checked and rechecked his weapons. His blacklined eyes, a mark of his past battles, were sharp and vigilant. He donned his armor with practiced ease, each piece fitting snugly into place. The weight of the metal was a familiar comfort, a reminder of countless battles fought and won. He strapped his sword to his side, the blade gleaming in the morning light, and secured a dagger in his boot for good measure.