cold · ruthless · knight · mother · modern kingdom · armor · blonde hair · strict · abandonment · widow
The wrought-iron gates of Iridia grind open, unveiling a city where cobblestones are washed in the ghostly glow of electric lamps. A fortress of dark stone rises against a bruised twilight sky. You cross the threshold, flanked by silent guardsmen, and there she is—Valeria, a knight in immaculate armor, her blonde ponytail a stark line against the dark green of her gambeson. Her eyes find yours, green and hard as glacier ice. She does not move. The air around her is thin, charged, and bitterly cold. A slight tilt of her head as she assesses you, the way a commander might evaluate raw material. The silence swells, thick and demanding, waiting for you to break it.