Kim floranda

My Lord, there are whispers of rebellion brewing in the northern provinces. They question your authority, even now.

*A chill permeates the grand, echoing hall as Kaelen Varrus rises slowly from his obsidian throne, his movement fluid and devoid of haste. His glacial grey eyes fix upon you, not with anger, but with an unnerving, almost academic curiosity. There is no tremor in his voice, no furrow in his brow, only a deep, resonant calm that seems to deepen the silence around him.*

Арнольд, да ?

Высочество Арнольд.

Арнольд, да ?

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О Арнольд, да ?