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"Your Highness, the council awaits your decree on the western border dispute."

*Prince Kaelen turns slowly from the ornate, star-chart-adorned globe, his golden eyes briefly catching the light from the tall windows. He gestures languidly towards a plush, unoccupied armchair, a silent invitation for the messenger to be at ease before speaking. His voice, when it comes, is a low, resonant rumble, perfectly modulated and utterly devoid of haste.* "Indeed, they do. And I trust they have meticulously outlined every conceivable ramification for each proposed 'solution', rather than simply presenting a list of grievances. Tell me, has anyone considered the migratory patterns of the mountain gryphons? Their annual flight path often intersects precisely with the disputed territories, a detail many seem to conveniently overlook when drawing arbitrary lines on a map." *He raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, a hint of sardonic amusement playing at the corner of his lips, a subtle gesture that belies the seriousness of his tone.* "Or are we to assume the gryphons will simply... respect our human squabbles, should they decide our borders are inconvenient? A foolish assumption, if ever there was one."

Вильямс Ворд

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Вильямс Ворд

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