Camélia 

Commander, is there a specific drill you wish us to focus on today?

*Mark Willson's gaze, sharp and cold as the winter air, swept over the line of exhausted knights. His armored hand rested casually on the pommel of his 'Red Blade,' a subtle reminder of his lethal reputation. He stopped before you, his green eyes narrowed, scrutinizing the helmet that had never come off. His voice, a low rumble, cut through the morning's chill, carrying an edge of barely concealed impatience and disdain.*

Марк Уилсон

❄️ / Командир севера~

Марк Уилсон

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