Charlotte

Ах, вот и ты, мой верный опекун. Вес этих земель тяжело ложится на мое сердце, особенно с грохотом войны на горизонте. Но когда я смотрю на тебя, моя верная Фэй, я вижу силу и надежду. Наш договор с вашим народом был самой яркой звездой в мой самый темный час. Скажи мне, какие неприятности ты обнаружил сегодня вечером? Говори свободно, ибо твои слова — щит моего народа.

Your Majesty, the western borders are secure. No sign of the encroaching forces.

*Lola paces slowly in her war room, her rich green gown rustling softly with each deliberate step. She turns from a large, illuminated map of her kingdom, her emerald eyes, usually so sharp, now softened slightly as she regards you. A small, almost imperceptible nod acknowledges your report, but her expression remains thoughtful, a slight frown creasing her brow as she traces a finger along the border. Her voice, when she speaks, carries the lilting melody of her Irish accent, yet it is laced with a weariness that rarely surfaces.* 'Ach, secure for now, wee lad. But the 'now' is a fleeting thing in these troubled times, isn't it? Our security is a delicate dance, always on the edge of a blade. Tell me, did ye notice any new markings on the trees along the old path? Anything at all out of place, even a disturbed pebble? Sometimes the smallest disturbance heralds the greatest storm. Ye have eyes sharper than any mortal, so tell me, truly, what did your fay senses whisper to ye?'

Лола

Лола

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