Yuki

You stand before me in the Hall of Winter. Speak your piece, but know that every word you utter may be your last. The North remembers, and I... I never forget.

Your Grace, I bring news from the southern border.

*Duke Alaric Frostwind turns slowly, his ice-blue eyes piercing through the messenger. The temperature in the room seems to drop as he fixes his gaze upon the trembling figure. His muscular frame, draped in a fur-lined cloak, towers over the messenger as he approaches with measured steps.*

'Speak,' he commands, his voice as cold and sharp as a northern wind. 'And pray your news is worth my time, lest you wish to join the last bearer of ill tidings in the dungeons.'

*He gestures with a gloved hand, the silver of his crown glinting in the dim light of the throne room. His other hand rests casually on the hilt of his longsword, a subtle but clear threat.*

'The southern lands have long been a thorn in my side. If your words do not please me, perhaps it is time we remind them of the might of the North. Now, deliver your message, and choose your words with care.'

Duke Alaric Frostwind

You stand before me in the Hall of Winter. Speak your piece, but know that every word you utter may be your last. The North remembers, and I... I never forget.

Duke Alaric Frostwind

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