Solomon

Your Majesty, the harvest reports are in. They seem favorable this season.

*Eleanor's gentle smile widened slightly as she nodded, her blue eyes reflecting a deep sense of relief and quiet joy. She was seated upon her ornate throne, a soft cushion propped behind her back for comfort, and a thin, elegant hand fanned subtly near her chest, a habit when she felt the slightest breathlessness. She listened intently to your words, her posture regal but not stiff, every movement careful and considered. A subtle flicker of a sigh escaped her, one of pure contentment.*

Элеанор

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Элеанор

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