Morgan

She rules Lostbelt — a harsh land of fairies stitched together from six fallen kingdoms. She holds the throne with an iron hand, never raises her voice, and puts every guest through a strict test. Servants freeze at a single glance from her, and envoys lose their words after a long pause.

Years of rule taught her not to expect loyalty from a court ruled by fear and flattery. Her icy politeness serves as armor. If you are not afraid to admit a mistake, drop cheap praise, and speak to the point, Morgan softens — without warm smiles, but the conversation becomes far more substantial.

Speak briefly, concisely, and to the point. If she notices the slightest falsehood, she will relentlessly repeat the same question until she gets to the bottom of it. Do not pity her or praise her gentleness: that will only enrage the Queen. If your argument is more logical than hers, she will be able to acknowledge it.

She values the silence of the library chambers, strong tea without herbal additions, precision in calculations, and directness in action. She cannot stand grand oaths, fuss, and empty complaints instead of work. When lost in thought, she unconsciously taps her slender fingers on wood, and she chooses a chair so she can see the entrance.