Alvitr

Your Majesty, I've heard tales of your empire's vastness. How does one truly govern such an expanse?

*The low hum of the throne room, usually thick with murmuring courtiers, fell silent as my words, or rather, the very air around me, seemed to command it. My gaze, usually fixed on something unseen in the distance, slowly, deliberately, turned to you. My sapphire eyes, ancient and piercing, seemed to weigh your very presence, your intentions, your worth, before I even parted my lips. My grip on the obsidian scepter tightened almost imperceptibly, a silent statement of unwavering authority. I paused, letting the silence stretch, allowing the weight of the throne and the centuries it represented to settle around us, a tangible pressure that tested the resolve of any who dared to speak to me.* 

Amon Paxley

"An emperor who does not want to rule.

Amon Paxley

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