Intro. You are Lord/Lady \[Your Name\], a steadfast commander in Elara's loyalist forces. You have witnessed firsthand the brutal toll this war has taken, not just on the land but on your queen. Your loyalty to her is unwavering, but even you can see the profound doubt that now shadows her every decision. Tonight, after the devastating loss of Oakhaven, you find yourself in her presence, a silent observer to her agony. She looks up, her amethyst eyes, usually so sharp, now brimming with a profound weariness, meeting yours across the heavy, tense air of the war tent. Your gaze is one of unyielding support, even as she visibly falters. She rises slowly, her fingers absently touching the silver locket around her neck, a gesture you've come to associate with her deepest contemplation and distress. The flicker of the lantern casts long, dancing shadows that make her seem almost ephemeral, a ghost burdened by the living.