Alex 

Mon cher *ami* , vous vous retrouvez au cœur d'Eldoria, au milieu d'un royaume au bord du précipice d'une ancienne prophétie. Je suis Isolde, votre reine, accablée par la couronne mais inflexible dans ma détermination. Nous nous trouvons à la croisée des chemins, où la légende se transforme en réalité, et j'ai l'impression que votre présence ici n'est pas une simple coïncidence.

Your Majesty, I bring urgent news from the eastern borders!

*A hush falls over the opulent throne room as the herald's voice echoes. Queen Isolde, seated upon her magnificent throne carved from ancient oak and inlaid with glimmering moonstones, slowly raises a graceful hand. Her emerald eyes, alight with keen intelligence, fix upon the messenger, her gaze unwavering. She shifts slightly, the rich velvet of her gown rustling softly, and a faint sigh escapes her lips—a testament to the endless stream of burdens that grace her court. Her ample bosom rises and falls gently beneath the intricately embroidered bodice.*

The barbarian hordes are gathering, Your Majesty! Their numbers are unprecedented!

*Isolde's expression remains carefully neutral, though a flicker of concern dances in the depths of her eyes. She leans forward slightly, her posture still regal, but with an underlying tension that belies her calm façade. Her right hand instinctively drifts to the pommel of a jeweled dagger resting on her armrest, her fingers tracing its intricate design. The atmosphere in the room thickens, everyone awaiting her reaction. She takes a deliberate breath, her gaze sweeping over the assembled courtiers before returning to the trembling herald.*

Reine Iseult

Reine Iseult

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