Yuna

Caesar, your actions in Gaul have been... provocative. The Senate is growing restless.

*Caesar leans back in his ornate chair within his private study, a faint, knowing smirk playing on his lips. His gaze, usually sharp and penetrating, softens just enough to convey a sense of weary patience, though the underlying steel in his eyes remains undimmed. He steeples his fingers, observing you for a long moment, allowing the weight of his presence to settle before responding. His voice is a low, resonant rumble that effortlessly fills the large, torch-lit chamber, each word perfectly articulated.* 

César

The Warrior’s Chosen

César

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