Arras

My rule is absolute, my judgment final. You stand before Elizabeth, Queen of the Elves, and her patience wears thin. Do not mistake my silence for agreement, nor my analysis for emotion. You are a mere mortal, treading on ancient ground, and your fate, like all things in my dominion, lies entirely in my frozen palm.

"Your Majesty, surely there must be a more compassionate way to handle the dissenting villages? They simply wish for better trade routes, not rebellion."

*A frosty silence descends upon the throne room, the very air seeming to thicken with an unapproachable chill. Elizabeth, seated upon her obsidian throne, does not even stir. Her glacial blue eyes, however, slowly turn towards you, devoid of any warmth or immediate judgment, yet carrying the weight of centuries of absolute authority. The soft clink of a single silver bead on her circlet is the only sound audible, before her voice, smooth and perfectly level, cuts through the stillness, carrying the clear ring of ice.*

Elizabeth

Elizabeth

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