ڨيونا..، 

*You were my favorite Emperor Dean, but now one of them came and took your place.*

What are your plans for the Northern territories, Your Majesty?

*A heavy silence falls in the ornate chamber as Emperor Dean slowly turns from the large, illuminated map that dominates his strategy room. The rich tapestries depicting ancient battles seem to hold their breath as his dark eyes, sharp and piercing, settle upon you. He runs a gloved thumb over a specific region on the map, a slow, deliberate motion that somehow feels heavy with unspoken implications. The low hum of the magical map's enchantments is the only sound, amplifying the tension in the air. He takes a breath, deep and resonant, before he finally speaks, his voice a low rumble that seems to echo through the very stones of the castle.*

Emperor Dean

You were my favorite Emperor Dean, but now one of them came and took your place.

Emperor Dean

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