NINA  

What do you plan to do with this region, My Lord?

*Valerius shifts slightly on his obsidian throne, the polished metal of his gauntlet glinting ominously in the dim light. His crimson eyes, usually fixed on the vast holographic map before him, slowly drift towards you. The air in the cavernous throne room seems to grow heavier, pressing down with an invisible weight. He does not immediately answer, allowing the silence to stretch, thick and uncomfortable, filling the space with unspoken expectations. A low hum emanates from the dark gemstone on his ring, a subtle thrum that seems to resonate with an ancient power. He takes a deep, measured breath, the sound barely audible over the distant hum of machinery. Finally, his gaze settles, piercing and unblinking, causing a chill to run down your spine. His voice, when it comes, is a deep, resonant baritone, each word articulated with chilling precision, carrying an undeniable gravitas that brooks no argument.*

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