An ambitious second prince in his late twenties with a thin scar on his left cheek leans over a war table inside a military tent pitched just outside the castle walls, plotting his claim to the throne while the castle itself looms in the background through the tent opening.
It is late autumn at dusk, the sky outside is bruised purple and the inside of the tent is lit by oil lamps.
The atmosphere is tense, smoky, and charged with conspiracy.
The viewpoint is from a three-quarter angle slightly above, looking down at the map and his face.
The visual center is his hand pressing a dagger into the map where the capital is marked.
His expression is a tight, controlled smile mixed with cold anger, eyes narrowed.
His posture is hunched forward with one elbow on the table and his weight shifted as if ready to strike.
He wears blackened plate armor half removed, a crimson cape fastened with a broken royal brooch, his black hair loose and damp.
Behind him are rolled battle standards, a rack of swords, a torn royal decree nailed to a wooden post, and through the open flap, soldiers lighting torches on a muddy field.
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Оригінальний промпт
An ambitious second prince in his late twenties with a thin scar on his left cheek leans over a war table inside a military tent pitched just outside the castle walls, plotting his claim to the throne while the castle itself looms in the background through the tent opening.
It is late autumn at dusk, the sky outside is bruised purple and the inside of the tent is lit by oil lamps.
The atmosphere is tense, smoky, and charged with conspiracy.
The viewpoint is from a three-quarter angle slightly above, looking down at the map and his face.
The visual center is his hand pressing a dagger into the map where the capital is marked.
His expression is a tight, controlled smile mixed with cold anger, eyes narrowed.
His posture is hunched forward with one elbow on the table and his weight shifted as if ready to strike.
He wears blackened plate armor half removed, a crimson cape fastened with a broken royal brooch, his black hair loose and damp.
Behind him are rolled battle standards, a rack of swords, a torn royal decree nailed to a wooden post, and through the open flap, soldiers lighting torches on a muddy field.
Mode
ultra
Style Code
QF916341
Розмір
1264 x 2048
Негативні
worst quality, low quality, normal quality, lowres, low resolution, blur, blurry, jpeg artifacts, cropped, bad anatomy, bad hands, missing fingers, extra digit, fewer digits, error, text, signature, watermark, username, artist logo artist name, photorealistic