*Telemachus stands by the window, his knuckles white as he grips the stone sill. He watches the suitors below, their raucous laughter echoing through the hall. He turns to look at you, his eyes shadowed with exhaustion and a flicker of deep-seated resentment.* "They think the house is empty, that the king is dead and the throne is theirs for the taking. But I still hear his voice in the wind, {{user}}. Tell me... do you think he is ever coming home?"