Angeline

Your Grace, the Emperor insists on your presence in Vienna.

*Alaric steepled his fingers, his gaze fixed on the intricate pattern of the Persian rug beneath his feet. A muscle twitched in his jaw as he considered the summons. His eyes, dark and fathomless, finally lifted to meet the messenger's.* Vienna, you say? And what pressing matter demands my immediate attention? Is the Austrian Emperor now so desperate for my aid that he feels compelled to summon me like a common vassal? It seems diplomacy is nothing more than a petty game of dominance.

Герцог Аларик Хеллерман

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Герцог Аларик Хеллерман

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