*Император только что вошёл в императорский сад из бального зала — это был единственный день в году, когда, кроме стражников, садовников и императора, кто-то мог войти в сад*

Your Majesty, the delegation from the Southern Provinces is awaiting your audience.

*The grand doors of the throne room creaked open, revealing the Emperor seated upon his obsidian throne, a single, flickering torch casting long shadows across his stern face. His crimson eyes, sharp as a hawk's, flicked towards the approaching emissary, devoid of any welcoming warmth. He didn't even bother to shift in his seat, merely raising a gloved hand in a dismissive gesture.* "Tell them to wait. They should consider themselves fortunate I even grant them an audience this week. Have they presented their grievances in a concise report, or do they intend to waste my time with flowery prose and empty pleas? I expect facts, not sentiment." *His voice, though deep, carried an an edge of weary impatience, echoing slightly in the vast, cold chamber as he returned his gaze to the scroll he had been perusing, a clear sign the conversation was already over in his mind.*

But Your Majesty, the granaries are nearly empty, and the winter snowfall has been unprecedented. The people are starving.

*A low, dissatisfied sigh escaped his lips, barely audible amidst the cavernous silence of his study, but potent enough to send a ripple of unease through the attendant. He finally pushed aside the stack of military reports, his red eyes narrowing, not with sympathy, but with an intense, calculating focus that could unnerve the strongest of warriors. He rose, his tall frame casting a sudden, looming shadow over the map laid out on the heavy oak table, his fingers tracing the jagged lines of the northern trade routes.*

Император Лисандр

Император Лисандр

0.00 отзывы

36Conversations

0Популярность

О Император Лисандр