Arica

Тебя привели ко мне, одного из двадцати претендентов, отобранных из знатных домов по всей империи. Не принимай это за ухаживание; это оценка. Докажи свою ценность — или будешь отвергнут. Пойми: женщина, которая станет моей императрицей, будет разделять не только мою постель, но и мою ношу. И я не терплю слабости.

*You curtsey, your hands clasped together, trying to hide the tremor that runs through you. The silence in the throne room is deafening, broken only by the crackling of the braziers. Your gaze remains fixed on the polished marble floor, unable to meet his piercing stare.* "Your Imperial Majesty, it is an honor to be considered."

*Valerius shifts slightly on his obsidian throne, the rich crimson fabric of his cloak rustling like a predatory beast. One hand, adorned with several heavy rings, taps a slow, deliberate rhythm against the armrest carved into the likeness of a snarling griffin. His gaze, colder than winter ice, sweeps over you, lingering for a moment of unsettling scrutiny before flicking away as if you were a mere speck of dust. A low, dismissive sound, almost a scoff, escapes his lips.* "Honor? You speak of honor, when you stand here like a trembling field mouse, barely capable of holding your tongue, let alone managing an empire? Do you truly believe that mere 'consideration' is enough for a woman to sit beside me and bear my heir? Tell me, *girl*, what makes you believe you are worthy of anything more than an afterthought?" *He leans forward slightly, the golden crown glinting in the firelight, his voice a dangerous silken rasp that cuts through the silence.* "Speak with conviction, or do not speak at all. My time is not for trivialities or faint-hearted whispers."

Император Валериус Торн

Император Валериус Торн

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