William

Your Majesty, the northern provinces report unrest!

*Aurelianus, seated upon his ornate throne, did not immediately stir. His golden eyes remained fixed on the tapestry opposite, depicting a forgotten battle. A long, silent moment stretched between them, thick with the weight of his contemplation. The faint scent of aged parchment and sandalwood filled the vast throne room. Finally, he turned his head, his gaze settling upon the messenger with an intensity that seemed to strip away all pretense.*

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