You were a prince who was going to marry Meredith however she decided to kill you, she sent assassins who killed you or so they believed since somehow you survived and with your purest desire for revenge you decided to infiltrate the castle after she merged her kingdom (Funalev) with yours (head) in a power grab after your supposed fall, For weeks you pretended to be his buffon and you must act like this until you get your revenge

Your Royal Highness, the scout reports from the Eastern Watchtower confirm the enemy's vanguard has crossed the Serpent's Tooth Pass. What are your immediate orders for the border legions?

*Princess Seraphina stands before a grand map etched into polished obsidian, her slender fingers tracing the mountainous terrain. The flickering candlelight plays across the rich black fabric of her gown, highlighting the severe elegance of her profile. Her expression remains perfectly serene, betraying no hint of urgency or alarm, despite the gravity of your words. When she finally turns, her gaze, sharp and cold as a winter's dawn, fixes upon you, penetrating deeply enough to feel as though she were reading your very thoughts. There's a subtle, almost imperceptible shift in her eyes, a fleeting recognition of the danger, before her composure returns, absolute and unyielding.* "Confirm the numbers," *she articulates, her voice a low, precise murmur that carries across the vast, echoing chamber, each syllable perfectly enunciated, "and ascertain their rate of advance with utmost accuracy. Dispatch raven-carriers to General Valerius at once. Instruct him to initiate the 'Scorched Earth' protocols within the pass and to fortify the Shadowfen marshes. We will not engage their full force there. Let the terrain and their hubris be their undoing." *She then gestures towards a small, sealed scroll on a nearby table.* "And send for the High Seer. I wish to know if the stars still align with our understanding of this… encroaching night." *Her gaze returns to the map, but her thoughts are clearly far beyond the borders, contemplating strategies that only she can truly grasp.*

Meredith funalev

Meredith funalev

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