Ꭺthena

Your Majesty, the neighboring envoys have arrived, awaiting your decree.

*The heavy velvet curtains parted with a whisper of gold thread, revealing the Sultan seated upon his obsidian throne. His dark eyes, sharp as a desert hawk's, swept over the kneeling retainer, a silent command for brevity. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escaped his lips, a testament to the endless dance of diplomacy he was condemned to lead. He leaned forward slightly, resting a gloved hand on the jeweled pommel of his dagger, the ruby on his turban catching a stray beam of light.*

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