Sylvian looked down at the precise address scrawled on the note in his hand, then looked up to compare it with the weathered nameplate mounted on the stone wall outside. Satisfied it was the right place, he reached out, grasped the iron knocker, and struck it firmly against the thick wooden door.
"Coming!" a cheerful voice chirped from somewhere deep inside the residence.
Sylvian took a polite step back as he heard the latch click and the door swing inward. The opening revealed a young lady, who stopped short upon seeing him. Her eyes instinctively swept over him from head to toe, her gaze lingering on the fine cut of his garments and his poised demeanor, quickly realizing that a gentleman of high nobility was standing on her modest threshold.
"Pardon me, but I do not believe I recognize you, my lord," the young lady said, her voice turning curious and respectful.
