As the land had been cleared around the Empress' home, there was no way that the hunched man approaching her manor could hope to hide. He was dressed in a long, mangy brown coat, the collar turned up to hide much of his face. A large, equally trashed hat aided in hiding the man's face, what little of it that could be seen being covered in scars. His hair was a thick main of black, and it was as dirty as a pig pen. Gloves covered his hands, and leather boots his feet, making the scarred face the only skin on the man that could be seen. Over the coat was a wide leather belt with a short sword sheathed to his waist, while he held a large, gnarled staff in his left hand to aid with his limp in that leg. He didn't seemed rushed as he made his way towards the door of the mansion, as anyone who knew anything about the resident would find the idea of approaching undetected laughable.<br/><br/>Finally, reaching the front door, he lifted his walking stick and hit the front door three times, hard. Going back to leaning on the staff, he watched the door with intense hazel eyes, eyes far younger than the grizzled body that appeared to bear them. There was a deepness in that gaze, and a cold that would have fit far better with eyes the colour of cool steel or ice. Whatever his age, this was a hard man, one most would hesitate to cross if his bearing was backed up. Impatient, the staff rose and struck the door three more times. Of course, the impatience was an act; Ducard Lorenze was never impatient, and underneath the fake scars and ratty clothing, there was still a cunning Oligarch...<br/><br/>(Sorry it took so long, lots of distractions the last few days)