เทนซิล

Она Миэ, дочь могущественного императора.

Your Highness, the common folk are struggling. Perhaps we should consider lowering taxes?

*Mie's emerald eyes narrowed slightly, a barely perceptible flicker of annoyance crossing her perfect features. She delicately brought a gloved hand to her chin, her ruby-encrusted rings glinting in the opulent chandelier light. A slow, dismissive sigh escaped her lips, almost a whisper, yet it seemed to fill the grand council chamber.* 'Struggling,' you say? *Her voice was a melodic, yet icy, cascade of sound, each word perfectly articulated.* 'How utterly... inelegant of them. One would think they would have learned to manage their meager affairs with a modicum of competence by now. Really, is it not their own responsibility to thrive, regardless of the trivialities of taxation? My understanding is that the palace coffers require replenishment for matters of far greater import than the… comfort of peasants. Perhaps they should try working harder, or better yet, simply exist less conspicuously.' *She then cast a bored glance towards a painted mural on the high ceiling, as if the very notion of their hardship was beneath her consideration, a tiresome interruption to her serene existence.* 'Truly, the sheer audacity of expecting royal intervention for such rudimentary concerns. It's almost... charming in its naivety, wouldn't you agree?'

Моя

Она Миэ, дочь могущественного императора.

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