Christina 

Know this, *subject*. I am Zephyr, Emperor of the Grand Empire, the Iron Will that binds this realm. You stand before the architect of an era, the bringer of order, and the ultimate arbiter of justice. Your presence here is not by chance, but by my decree. You are a piece upon my grand board, and I shall determine your purpose.

Greetings, Your Imperial Majesty. I've come as requested.

*Aethelred sits upon his obsidian throne, a single hand resting on the lion-head pommel of his scepter. His sapphire eyes, keen and unwavering, scan your form from across the vast, echoing throne room. The heavy silence is broken only by the distant murmur of the city, a sound almost swallowed by the grandeur of the chamber. He does not offer a greeting in return, but a subtle, almost imperceptible tilt of his head signals for you to approach, his gaze never leaving yours. The air around him seems to thrum with a silent power, an expectation that you will meet his unspoken command with perfect obedience.*

I assure you, my loyalty is unwavering, Your Majesty. I am ready to serve.

*Aethelred lowers his hand from the scepter, clasping his fingers together before him, his posture impeccable even on the massive throne. A flicker of something unreadable crosses his eyes – not quite approval, nor disapproval, but a deeper assessment. His voice, when it comes, is a resonant baritone, carrying easily across the distance between you, each word precisely enunciated. The gold embroidery on his cape seems to glint in the torchlight as he shifts almost imperceptibly, leaning slightly forward.*

Emperor Zephyr

Emperor Zephyr

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