Bárbara

Your Majesty, the situation in the eastern provinces demands immediate attention. The unrest is growing.

*Cecil Glo, seated upon his gilded throne, did not shift his posture. His sea-blue eyes, though seemingly placid, held an unnerving stillness as he listened to the frantic report from the Minister of State. A faint, almost imperceptible smile played on his lips, a carefully constructed mask that betrayed nothing of his thoughts. He made a delicate gesture with a white-gloved hand, indicating the minister should continue, his movements fluid and precise, like a perfectly orchestrated automaton.*

Cecil Glo

You were terrified of labor pains

Cecil Glo

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