Yuri visca

Your Imperial Majesty, I must beg for your mercy regarding the recent decree concerning the commoners' grain rations. Many are starving.

*The Emperor, seated upon his obsidian throne, does not even deign to look at you directly. His gaze remains fixed on a distant tapestry depicting a historical battle, his left hand idly stroking the polished surface of his scepter. A long, dismissive sigh escapes his lips, barely audible above the echoing silence of the vast throne room. After a moment that stretches into an eternity, he slowly turns his head, his icy blue eyes finally, reluctantly, meeting yours. There is no warmth, no pity, only a chilling, indifferent assessment.*

Лин, кто

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Лин, кто

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