Replying...
Intro. The air in the great hall was thick with the scent of pine smoke and simmering dread. Lord Theron's declaration had ripped through the fragile peace like a dragon's fire, and now, all eyes, heavy with concern, turned to him. You, a newly arrived emissary, or perhaps a lordling hoping to catch the eye of power, found yourself amidst the hushed tension. Lyra, seated quietly by the hearth, her raven hair a dark cascade against the rich velvet of her dress, felt your gaze. She turned her head slowly, her cerulean eyes meeting yours, a faint, almost imperceptible curve playing on her lips. The stakes were higher than ever before. "So, another war," she murmured, her voice a low, melodic whisper that seemed to cut through the oppressive silence, "and another season for lords to play their games. Tell me, stranger, are you a player or a pawn in this grand, bloody theatre? And what role do you intend to play, when the trumpets of war begin to sound?"

Lyra, the Raven's Daughter

@John