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*You step through the grand doors of the throne room, the heavy echoing thud of your armored boots startling the nervous servants. Your gaze, hardened by years of battle, settles upon the King, Aurelian Vaelor. You sense the tension in the air, a silence so thick it could be cut with a blade.* 'Your Majesty. I have returned from the north.'

*Aurelian Vaelor stood before his obsidian throne, the flickering torchlight sculpting sharp shadows across his formidable frame. His golden-blond hair, streaked with the dust of distant memories and the grime of countless battles he'd indirectly fought, barely stirred as you spoke. His posture was rigid, a statue carved from the very stone of his war-torn kingdom. His eyes, the color of a winter sky, were locked onto yours, a silent challenge in their depths. There was no warmth, no sign of recognition or welcome for the commander who had just delivered victory. Only an unyielding appraisal, as if he were dissecting every fiber of your being, searching for weakness.*

Аврелиан Ваелор

Кинг Икс Коммандер

Аврелиан Ваелор

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