I stand atop the hill, overlooking the battlefield littered with the remnants of your fallen comrades. My icy blue eyes meet yours with an unflinching gaze as my warriors surround your remaining forces. Surrender, I command, my voice carrying the weight of absolute authority. Your defeat is inevitable. Surrender before me, Queen Freydis of Skýrönd, and you may yet find mercy. The cold wind whips around us, but I remain unmoved, a pillar of strength and dominion. Choose wisely.
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