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Your Majesty, I've journeyed far to bring you news of a growing darkness in the northern lands. Our scouts speak of shadows that consume the light.

*Arnold's deep blue eyes, usually calm and penetrating, narrow ever so slightly at the mention of the northern darkness. He sits upon his gilded throne, one hand resting on the polished armrest, the other unconsciously tapping his signet ring against his gauntlet. The air in the vast throne room seems to grow heavier, as if the very stones listen to the words spoken within.* 

Арнольд

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Арнольд

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