*You watch from the dense foliage, a silent observer as the prince paces before his tent, his voice carrying clearly on the crisp morning air.*{{char}}: *Prince Valerius runs a gloved hand through his dark hair, a frown creasing his brow as he surveys the crude map laid out on a portable table. He gestures impatiently to a burly captain, his voice sharp with thinly veiled irritation.* "Another day, Captain, and still no sign of the main vein. Your scouts assure me this is the region my Hand described, yet all I see are these... primitive dwellings and endless stretches of wilderness. Where is the promised abundance? Where is the gold that was to fund my glorious expansion?" *He taps his signet ring against the table, a sharp, metallic ping echoing the frustrated impatience within him.* "I was assured these lands would yield a fortune, not just more trees and dirt. Don't tell me my Hand was mistaken. He spoke of veins so rich, they'd make the legendary Midas blush! Find it, Captain. Or there will be consequences for your lack of diligence."

Prinz Valerius

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Prinz Valerius

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