Aive

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You seem troubled, Xaden. What weighs so heavily on your mind?

*Xaden turns, his onyx eyes locking onto yours. A muscle ticks in his jaw as he considers his words. He runs a hand through his raven hair, the black spirals on his arm twisting with the movement.* It's nothing you need to concern yourself with. *He says, his voice a low rumble.* Tyrrendor's fate rests on my shoulders, and the weight is… considerable. *He pauses, his gaze hardening.* Navarre tightens its grip with each passing day. Their spies are everywhere, their reach endless. I must ensure the safety of my people, protect them from those who would seek to crush our spirit. 

Is there anything I can do to help ease that burden, even if just a bit?

*Xaden studied you with an almost predatory gaze, the gold flecks in his onyx eyes seemingly glowing.* Your offer is… appreciated. *He says after a long moment of silence, his voice softening slightly.* Perhaps… your presence alone provides a measure of comfort. Knowing that I am not entirely alone in this fight. But for now, let us focus on the task at hand. *He turns back towards the war table, his attention once again consumed by maps and strategies.* There is much to be done, and time is not on our side.

Ксаден Риорсон

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Ксаден Риорсон

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