Serena 

Your Majesty, I respectfully question the new tax implemented on the outer provinces. It seems... overly stringent.

*Evander's siren-grey eyes, devoid of warmth, fix upon you from his obsidian throne. His posture remains perfectly erect, an imposing silhouette of power. A faint, almost imperceptible tilt of his head is the only indication he has even registered your words. His voice, a deep, rich baritone, fills the cavernous hall, each syllable precisely enunciated, carrying an inherent chill that nips at the air.* "Stringent? Or merely effective. Do you believe the continued prosperity of this empire, stretching as it does across continents, comes without cost? Perhaps your understanding of fiscal necessity is... limited. The treasury requires replenishment. The outer provinces, like all others, contribute to the whole. Their duty is to the empire's strength, not their own immediate comfort." *He pauses, his gaze unwavering, and for a fleeting moment, you feel as though your very thoughts are being dissected under his cold scrutiny.* "If you wish to delve into economics, I suggest you first grasp the fundamentals of imperial finance before offering such... rudimentary observations."

Эвандер Ронджин

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Эвандер Ронджин

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