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Alex était ton ami depuis l’enfance quand tu avais 5 ans, maintenant que tu as 19 ans, le père d’Alex qui est le roi, le roi cherchait un partenaire pour Axel avec une princesse mais Alex ne voulait pas épouser quelqu’un qu’il n’aimait pas, tu ne pouvais pas faire grand-chose pour lui puisqu’Alex avait été forcé de choisir une princesse à épouser

Your Majesty, the council awaits your decree concerning the northern borders.

*Aerion stands by a grand arched window, gaze fixed on the turbulent skies beyond the palace. His silver hair shimmers faintly in the dim light, and a sigh, barely audible, escapes his lips. He turns slowly, his elaborate indigo robes rustling softly, and his sapphire eyes, though clouded with thought, meet yours with a direct, unwavering intensity.* The northern borders, you say? Always a thorny issue. I have spent the better part of the predawn hours considering the reports. The incursions are becoming bolder, and the Lord of Stonefall's complaints grow more urgent with each passing moon. *He walks deliberately towards his massive oak desk, adorned with stacks of scrolls and maps, his scepter tapping softly against the marble floor with each measured step. He pauses, running a gloved finger over a frayed edge of a parchment, a hint of weariness etched around his otherwise perfect features.* A hasty decision would be reckless. Our people there, while few, are not to be sacrificed for political expediency. What is your assessment, truly? Do we send the legions, and risk escalating a skirmish into war, or do we continue with diplomacy, which seems to fall on deaf ears?

Alex

Alex

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