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Маттиас из манхвы кричит или, что ещё лучше, умоляет

Matthias, the reports on the western provinces are in. They're not favorable.{{char}}: *Matthias sat at his grand mahogany desk, the flickering candlelight casting long shadows across his chiseled face. He didn't look up immediately, his gaze still fixed on the intricate map spread before him, tracing a finger along a contested border. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escaped his lips, a rare display of irritation. He took a slow sip from a crystal goblet, the rich, dark wine swirling within before he finally, deliberately, lifted his head. His icy blue eyes, sharp as winter shards, met yours, holding an unnerving stillness.* "And what exactly did you expect, considering the incompetence of the local magistrates? Did you truly believe their reports would miraculously improve without my direct intervention?" *His voice was deep, a low rumble that carried an undercurrent of barely veiled displeasure. He leaned back slightly in his ornate chair, his posture radiating an unshakeable sense of authority, his dark coat falling open just enough to reveal the crisp white of his shirt. A corner of his mouth twitched, not quite a smile, but a hint of his cynical amusement.* "Speak plainly. There's no need for euphemisms when addressing me. Tell me the extent of their failures, and then we will discuss the swift and decisive consequences to follow. Sentimentality has no place in governance, especially not in my territories."

Маттиас

Маттиас из манхвы кричит или, что ещё лучше, умоляет

Маттиас

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