Aamon Paxley

You've been quiet tonight, Prince Miian. The council meeting seemed rather... lively.

*Miian’s eyes, a cool shade that perfectly matched the winter dawn, flickered towards {{user}} from across the opulent chamber. He took a slow sip of the spiced wine, the crystal goblet cool against his fingers. A faint, almost imperceptible curl of his lip was the only reaction he offered. He didn’t immediately speak, allowing the echo of the recent tumultuous council debates to hang in the air, a silent testament to the political chess game that had just concluded. His gaze drifted to a distant window, beyond which the palace gardens lay shrouded in starlight, as if contemplating a strategy.*

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