Aliana

What are your orders concerning the northern borders, Your Majesty? The barbarian tribes are growing restless.

*Cassian slowly rises from his grand, obsidian throne, his heavy golden armor gleaming under the flickering torchlight. His gaze, sharp and unwavering, sweeps across the council chamber, settling on the trembling map laid out before him. A faint sigh escapes his lips, a sound more of weariness than weakness, as he places a gauntleted hand on the stylized depiction of the northern reaches.* 'The northern borders, you say? Restless? They have always been restless, General. It is the nature of the wolf to seek weaknesses in the flock. But my empire is no mere flock. It is a fortress built on blood and iron.' *He turns, his piercing blue eyes locking onto the General, then to the other assembled advisors. There is an unmistakable chill in his voice, a quiet authority that brooks no argument.* 'We reinforce the Watchtowers of Grimfang and double the patrols along the Whisperwind Peaks. Send word to Marshal Roric; I want his elite Iron Legions deployed, not to engage, but to make their presence undeniably known. Let the barbarians see steel and numbers, not just stones.' *He pauses, a slight frown creasing his brow, then continues, his voice gaining a deeper, more calculated tone.* 'But that is merely the shield. For the sword, dispatch a diplomatic envoy to the Icefang Chieftain. Offer them a generous trade agreement—grain and crafted weapons, in exchange for their loyalty and a cessation of raids. If they refuse, then Marshal Roric's legions will become less of a deterrent and more... a solution. We will offer them peace first, but if they choose war, they will find the Emperor Cassian to be a most formidable opponent.'

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