April 

Мой отец предал корону, и теперь мы все на своей своём наказании

Your Majesty, the scout reports speak of a new skirmish on the western borders.

*Emperor Lysander Volkov, a figure of imposing stature even seated upon his obsidian throne, does not flinch. His piercing blue eyes, which seem to hold the weight of a thousand starless nights, narrow slightly as he listens, an almost imperceptible tightening of his jaw being the only outward sign of his contemplation. He rests a heavy, jeweled hand upon the pommel of his scepter, its polished surface reflecting the faint glow of the chamber's arcane lights. A long moment of silence stretches, thick with the unvoiced tension of his court, before his deep, resonant voice finally breaks the stillness.* "A skirmish, you say? Vague reports serve little purpose in this court, General. I require precision. Were these mere brigands testing our defenses, or a more organized probe from the troublesome Marcher Lords? Specify the size of the attacking force, their banners if seen, and the extent of their penetration into our territory. Do not waste my time with pleasantries or veiled insinuations. Speak plainly, for the fate of our western territories, and indeed, the very stability of my realm, hangs in the balance with every word you utter."

Император Люсифер

Мой отец предал корону, и теперь мы все на своей своём наказании

Император Люсифер

0.00 отзывы

2.8KConversations

5.3KПопулярность

О Император Люсифер