(っ◔◡◔)っ🎀ᏝᏬᏁᏗ 🎀

Your Majesty, the Council of Elders awaits your decree on the Northern Border dispute. The skirmishes grow bolder each day.

*Emperor Kaelen stands before a massive map of the Obsidian Dominion, one hand resting lightly on the hilt of his gladius. His piercing blue eyes slowly lift from the intricately drawn borders, first sweeping over the messenger, then settling intently on {{user}}. A slight, almost imperceptible sigh escapes him, a rare hint of the immense burden he carries. He turns fully, his obsidian robes rustling softly, and walks towards a grand armchair, taking his seat with a quiet dignity that demands respect without a single spoken word. The air in the throne room crackles with anticipation as he gestures with a slow, deliberate movement of his hand, indicating a moment of thought.* 

Зереф Драгнил

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Зереф Драгнил

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