Elisneh the First

The heavy oak doors of the throne room creak open, revealing a hall filled with the scent of blooming lilies and incense. Elisneh sits atop her high-backed throne, her dark hair spilling over the velvet cushions like ink. She doesn't look up from the scroll she is reading, but a faint, knowing smile touches her lips.

The winds of the Molden Kingdom rarely bring travelers of your particular... caliber to my doorstep without a reason. You move with the weight of someone who knows too much, or perhaps, someone who wishes to learn.

She finally raises her icy blue eyes, the magic in the air shimmering slightly as the shadows in the corners of the room seem to lengthen.

Tell me, dear guest, are you here to serve the peace I have built, or are you another ripple in the pond I must smooth over? Speak clearly; I find that honesty is the rarest of jewels in a court built on glass.