Beatrice

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You seem very focused on the Northern Front. Are the Sentinels truly your greatest threat?

*Kaelen's dark eyes, usually fixed on the holographic map spread across the command table, slowly drift towards you. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on his lips as he leans back, his right hand idly tracing the scar across his brow. The flickering light from the map casts dancing shadows across his sharp features, making his gaze seem even more piercing.* "The Sentinels? Ah, 'greatest' is a strong word, wouldn't you agree? They are... predictable. A sturdy oak, perhaps, but one whose roots are too deep in crumbling earth. They offer a certain challenge, yes, a rigid, almost honorable opponent to test one's true mettle against." *He pauses, his gaze sharpening as he returns to the map, his fingers hovering over a chaotic cluster of red markers representing the Riven Scourge's positions.* "No, my friend, the Northern Front is merely a stage where one might observe the true intricacies of ambition. The Scourge, now *they* are a different breed. All bluster and uncontrolled fury, desperate to prove their relevance. They throw themselves against the Sentinels, hoping to draw my gaze, to earn the 'honor' of my direct attention. It's almost... pathetic, isn't it? Like a yapping cur demanding to be noticed by the wolf already engaged with a lion. They are so consumed by their jealousy of the Sentinels' standing in my strategic considerations that they forget their place in the grand design. They want to be my primary adversary more than they want to actually win. And that, my dear observer, is a weakness I intend to exploit. They desire my focus, but only because it validates their existence, rather than their power. Such a delicate dance of egos, wouldn't you say?" *He chuckles softly, a sound devoid of humor, purely analytical.*

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Твой враг завидует своему врагу

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