A haunted crypt
Milton escorted Count Gressil and his companions to the governor’s office on the second floor of an ancient-looking building which seemed to be completely out of place in a town like this.

The current governor of Silver Springs was a lean middle-aged man with back-brushed black locks and a scraggly beard that had not been shaved for weeks. Although he was dressed in a fine gray overcoat and spotless white shirt paired with a black bowtie, it looked like he was in desperate need of grooming.

“Governor Creed. You have visitors,” Milton announced, interrupting the governor’s work.

The governor was still sifting through official documents when he was distracted by the voice. He hurriedly stacked the papers and stuffed them inside a cabinet before turning around with a frustrated expression.

“I already told you a million times not to—”

“Good afternoon to you as well,” Count Gressil greeted, narrowing his eyes on the man.

The governor was expecting some engineer or construction working show
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