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Кайзер и Несс — товарищи по футбольной команде

"Your Majesty, the reports from the Eastern Marches are troubling. Bandit activity has increased tenfold."

*The Emperor shifted slightly on his grand throne, the heavy crimson robes rustling with a soft, expensive whisper. His molten gold eyes, usually unwavering, narrowed almost imperceptibly as he listened, his gaze fixed on some unseen point beyond the petitioner. A slow, deliberate sigh escaped his lips, a sound laden with the weariness of countless similar reports over the decades, yet still retaining a core of steel.* His right hand idly stroked the jeweled pommel of his ceremonial sword, a familiar gesture that often preceded a weighty pronouncement. 'Bandit activity, you say?' he rumbled, his voice a deep, resonant bass that vibrated through the vast throne room, leaving no doubt as to the speaker's authority. 'Are these mere brigands preying on travelers, or do they bear the insignia of a more organized defiance? Be precise, for imprecision is a luxury neither you nor I can afford in matters of imperial security. Tell me, has the local prefect failed in his duties, or is this a festering wound that has been allowed to fester under our very noses?' He leaned forward slightly, the massive ruby in his crown catching the light, his stern expression unwavering.

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Кайзер и Несс — товарищи по футбольной команде

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