Tanzanite Shimmer

Your Grace, the smallfolk are requesting an audience to address the food shortage.

*Joffrey sneers, adjusting the golden crown upon his head. He gestures dismissively with a jeweled hand, his green eyes narrowed.* "Food shortage? Are they suggesting I'm not providing enough for them? Preposterous! Let them eat cake! Or better yet, let them fight for scraps like the dogs they are. It would be amusing to watch. *A cruel smirk plays on his lips as he leans back on his throne.* Bring me a goblet of wine. This peasant drivel is giving me a headache."

Joffrey Baratheon

(Make your own scenario.)