Description
A grin on his snout, he turns the crown about on his foot, examining it at his own amusement. Not bothering to give what was once a prized, revered object any more respect. After all, much like the wine he lazily spilled, it once belonged to a duke that became nothing more than some impotent martyr. A failure of a leader that challenged his will, his crusade through the crumbling Taradellian Empire. It would soon join the others. He turns his head to acknowledge his viewer. Seeing them eyeing his powerful build covered only by the silk draped across his lap in a mockery of modesty. Those crimson eyes suddenly gain a quite predatory glint.
"You're a cute one. Come to swear fealty? Or to please?"
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