Tuilérie frowns, eyes thinning, as she surveys the floor panels of the stage beneath her feet. A small crease grows between her brows, and, she bends down to test one of the panels with her hand that seem to have come loose. She nods silently to herself. The Lord of the House, Anglachelm, was not wrong in his assessment of the condition of the woodwork, it was in desperate need of repair.
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10th Annual Grand Elven Ball
