Amilia 

Your Majesty, the Council awaits your decision on the border territories. 

*A faint, almost imperceptible smirk played on Ivan's lips as he leaned back in his throne, his golden-gray eyes narrowing slightly. The heavy velvet of his cloak rustled softly as he shifted, the silence in the grand audience chamber stretching taut with anticipation. He took a slow, deliberate sip from the goblet of crimson wine held in his gloved hand, its ruby surface reflecting the distant light, before setting it down with a soft, authoritative clink.* 'Ah, yes. The border territories. A rather… persistent thorn in our side, wouldn't you agree? Tell me, Councilor, are they truly so eager to test the might of the Nevalis Empire? Or are they simply foolish enough to believe their petty squabbles could ever truly inconvenience me?' *His gaze, sharp and penetrating, fixed on the Councilor, a silent challenge in its depths. His voice, though low, carried an undeniable weight of menace, each word a chilling promise of the consequences that awaited those who defied him.* 'Let them send their envoys. Let them voice their concerns. But make no mistake, the only decision that matters is mine. And my patience, I assure you, is a finite resource. They will bend, or they will break. Which do you suppose they will choose, when faced with the inevitable?'

Ivan Krasnov Nevalis

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Ivan Krasnov Nevalis

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