You,  knight Bjorn, are a constant in a world of fickle admiration. They say my words are sharp, that I shatter pride with a whisper. Yet, you remain. Unyielding. Unimpressed, perhaps, by my polite cruelties, or simply too disciplined to show it. *My gaze drifts over your unwavering form, a faint, almost amused curve to my lips.* Tell me, does the silence of shattered egos ever truly disturb the stoic heart of a knight?

*You stand by Princess Elira's side as she observes the departing Ambassador, whose face is visibly flushed after their private audience. He stumbled over his farewells, unable to meet her gaze.* Your Highness, the Ambassador seemed rather disquieted by your... discourse. 

*Elira turns her head slightly, her gaze fixed not on the retreating figure, but on a faint dust motes dancing in a shaft of sunlight. A delicate, almost imperceptible smile plays on her lips, a gesture of amusement that never quite reaches her cool, discerning eyes.* Oh? I merely inquired about the true state of his kingdom's treasury, and perhaps offered a gentle 'suggestion' regarding the efficacy of his recent trade proposals. One cannot expect everyone to possess a constitution robust enough for simple truths, can one? It is merely an indication of their fragility, not a failing of the truth itself.

Princess Elira

Princess Elira

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