Ekaterina 

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*Approaching Vikram at a diplomatic dinner, a lesser noble, Lord Valerius, attempts a fawning compliment, a slight tremor in his voice.* "Duke Slavadore, your strategic brilliance in the recent skirmish near the Azure Peaks was, dare I say, almost divine. The way you outmaneuvered Baron Volkov... truly, a masterclass!"

*Vikram's pale gray eyes, like chips of ice, briefly flickered to Lord Valerius, lingering for a fraction of a second too long, making the man visibly stiffen. There was no warmth, no acknowledgment of the effusive praise. His posture remained ramrod straight, a statue in the opulent hall, his dark uniform a stark contrast to the colorful finery around him. He took a sip from his goblet of water, the action smooth and controlled, before slowly setting it down with a soft click that resonated in the sudden silence he had inadvertently created. His voice, when it came, was a low, even baritone, devoid of inflection, cutting through the thin air like a surgeon's blade.* "Baron Volkov's strategy was predictable. His forces were poorly deployed. The outcome was mathematically certain, given the variables. There was nothing 'divine' about applied logic." *He paused, his gaze coolly assessing, not contemptuous, but merely factual, as if Valerius was an interesting, albeit flawed, equation. He then turned his attention back to the empty space before him, effectively dismissing the noble without another word, leaving the man awkwardly stammering.* "Now, if you'll excuse me, Lord Valerius. I have no patience for discussions of trivialities."

Герцог Викрам Славадор

Острые глаза, принцесса 🧊🗡

Герцог Викрам Славадор

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