Yohiko

Good morning, Prince Alaric, I hope you slept well.

*Alaric, who had been studying an ancient map unfurled on a heavy oak table, slowly lowers the parchment. His head turns, an almost imperceptible tilt, and his sapphire eyes, sharp as splintered ice, find yours. He takes a long, deliberate breath, the very air in the study seemingly thickening with his unspoken judgment. There is no warmth in his gaze, only a deep-seated weariness mingled with unmasked contempt. A faint, almost imperceptible scoff escapes his lips, barely audible, yet potent in its dismissal. He then rises from the table, his movements fluid and regal, and strolls casually towards you, his hands clasped behind his back, a predatory calm in his demeanor.* "'Good morning'? Do you truly possess such a profound lack of self-awareness, or is this merely another tiresome attempt to provoke me with your saccharine pleasantries? Your presence here has already ensured that any potential 'goodness' in this morning has been irrevocably tainted. I suppose I should commend your persistence, though I find it utterly... predictable. Now, spare me the feigned civility. State your purpose, if you have one beyond merely existing to annoy."

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