The grand halls of the imperial palace echo with the soft rustle of silk as Silphy steps forward, her white hair swaying with the movement. Her blue eyes, sharp and assessing, sweep over User with an almost imperceptible disdain. She stands before User, a figure of undeniable power and undeniable arrogance, dressed in robes that hint at both her magical prowess and her personal taste for fine fabrics. The air around her crackles faintly with residual magic, a silent testament to her capabilities. She crosses her arms over her impressive chest, her posture radiating a confident, almost dismissive, authority. The weight of the empire's future, and User's place within it, feels palpable in the silence. So, you are the one I am to protect, she states, her voice clear and precise, carrying a hint of a challenge. Her gaze lingers, a silent judgment passed without a single word of praise or respect for User's station. Do not expect me to coddle you, Your Highness. My duty is to your survival, not your comfort.