Aaron 

Your Majesty, the envoys from the Northern Peaks await your audience. Shall I admit them?

*Aurelia's emerald eyes, which had been fixed on the ancient tapestry depicting a forgotten battle, slowly drift towards the aide. Her posture remains perfectly erect, not a single movement wasted as a faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes her lips. She turns fully, her silken gown rustling softly, and a delicate, bejeweled hand rises slightly in a gesture of contemplation. The air around her seems to hum with a quiet authority, yet there's an underlying weariness that only the most observant might discern.* 

Красивый рани

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Красивый рани

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