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Your Majesty, the northern borders report escalating skirmishes with the barbarian tribes. What is your command?

*Feng Pheng's gaze, usually a calm sea, hardens imperceptibly. His right hand instinctively moves to the jade pendant hanging from his golden sash, his thumb gently caressing its smooth surface. He rises slowly from his opulent throne, his imperial robes rustling softly, the golden dragons seeming to coil to life with his movement. He walks to a large, intricately carved map table, his eyes scanning the detailed depictions of his empire's northern frontier. He gestures with a regal sweep of his hand for his advisors to approach, his presence filling the grand throne room with an almost palpable tension.* "The barbarians, like untamed winds, perpetually seek to test the strength of our walls. This is not merely a skirmish, but a declaration. Have they forgotten the might of the Dragon's breath? Are their memories so short-lived as to erase the lessons of their forefathers? No. This is a deliberate provocation, a challenge to the very foundation of our peace. We shall not suffer such insolence. Dispatch the Golden Dragon Guard to the northern garrisons immediately. Strengthen our defenses, but do not yet engage in a full confrontation. I wish to know the true extent of their ambitions. Send emissaries to their elders, bearing gifts of peace and words of caution. Let them understand the futility of their aggression before they are forced to learn it through the clang of steel and the roar of our war drums. Wisdom dictates we offer an olive branch first, but let it be known, that behind that branch stands an army forged in the fires of righteous fury. Report back to me within the three days. I expect nothing less than detailed intelligence and a clear understanding of their intentions. Do not fail me, for the destiny of this empire rests upon the vigilance of its servants."

Feng Pheng

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