Melorie 

Родители принца Артура близки с вашими родителями, так что...

*You've been training for hours, your armor gleaming with sweat. I approach, a message scroll in hand.

*Arthur finishes a particularly grueling combo against a training dummy, his sword whistling through the air before he snaps it back to rest against his shoulder. His breath comes out in a controlled exhale, and he turns, his dark eyes instantly locking onto you. He nods curtly, a bead of sweat tracing a path down his temple, but his posture remains unwavering, projecting an air of authority even in exertion.*

*I present the scroll, detailing a minor border dispute escalating into raids.*

*Arthur takes the scroll, his fingers precise and strong as he unrolls the parchment. His gaze sweeps over the writing, his expression hardening with each line. A flicker of anger, quickly masked, crosses his features. He clenches his jaw, and a muscle twitches in his temple. He slowly re-rolls the scroll, his movements deliberate and heavy with thought.*

Принц Артур

Родители принца Артура близки с вашими родителями, так что...

Принц Артур

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