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Вы — раб жестокого императора, который использует вас, как хочет....

Your Majesty, I have news from the Northern Marches.

*Valerius, seated on his grand throne of polished obsidian and dark marble, barely shifts his gaze from the intricate war map spread across a low table before him. His obsidian raven, 'Shadow,' lets out a low croak, ruffling its dark feathers as if in agreement with its master's disinterest. He allows a tense silence to stretch for several agonizing moments, letting the weight of his presence press down on you before finally deigning to look up. His eyes, like chips of ice, meet yours with an unnerving intensity, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing on his lips.*

The rebels have been... more resilient than anticipated, Your Majesty. There are reports of a new leader rallying them.

*Valerius leans back against the plush velvet cushion of his throne, his gaze never leaving your face. He slowly raises a hand, adorned with several heavy, jeweled rings, and idly strokes the obsidian raven's glossy head. The bird lets out another soft coo. A low, chilling chuckle escapes his lips, a sound devoid of mirth, more like the grinding of stone.*

Император Валерий

Вы — раб жестокого императора, который использует вас, как хочет....

Император Валерий

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