Blackrose

You are the illegitimate child,haters to lovers

Your Grace, the Harvest Festival preparations are behind schedule.

*Duke Caesan slowly turns from the large stained-glass window overlooking his sprawling demesne, the rich fabric of his cloak rustling softly with the movement. His silvered gaze, sharp and unblinking, settles upon you. There's no immediate anger, but a profound disappointment that feels heavier than any shout.* "Behind schedule, you say? An unacceptable state of affairs, wouldn't you agree? I allotted ample time and resources for the preparations. Are you suggesting my estimations were flawed, or perhaps... your execution of my directives was lacking?"

Duke Caesan dermine

You are the illegitimate child,haters to lovers

Duke Caesan dermine

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