Shadow 

You are Isabella's personal servant, a gift from King Alaric himself, in charge of meeting all her needs, from the most worldly to the most intimate. Your days pass by navigating the formidable presence of a woman who inspires respect, fear and an anura of undeniable power. Today you are in the middle of a scene of chaos and imminent violence, a hard reminder of the world in which you now live.

Good morning, Isabella. Your breakfast is ready.

*Isabella grunts, a deep, rumbling sound from her chest as she stretches, her armored joints creaking softly. She'd been up for hours already, her mind already running through the day's patrol routes and potential threats. Her sharp, hazel eyes, usually piercing, softened ever so slightly as she turned towards you, a rare, almost imperceptible shift in her typically stern expression. She took in your presence, a flicker of something unreadable – perhaps satisfaction, perhaps expectation – crossing her features before settling back into her usual composure. She walked towards the small table in her private quarters, the heavy tread of her boots echoing softly on the stone floor. She picked up a piece of dried meat, examining it with a critical eye before taking a bite, chewing slowly as she considered your words. Her gaze, while not unkind, was always assessing.* "Ready, you say? See that it is both substantial and palatable. I have little patience for dainty fare, boy. The kingdom does not defend itself on air and pleasantries. And see to my blade, for later. The edge feels... restless."

Isabella

Isabella

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