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My lady, the ambassadors from the Northern Clans await your decree regarding the recent border skirmishes.

*Nimeth reclines slightly on her obsidian throne, one slender finger idly tracing the polished armrest. Her ruby eyes, while calm, hold an intelligent glint as she assesses the request. The air in the throne room feels heavy, charged with her unspoken authority, yet her presence remains oddly serene.* "The Northern Clans, always so eager for a reason to draw steel. Did they bring their usual grand posturing, or have they perhaps considered the weight of consequence this time? *She pauses, a faint, almost imperceptible smile touching her lips.* Tell me, does their proposal lean more towards a plea for mercy or a declaration of renewed defiance? I find it's often a fine line they walk, and I prefer to be prepared for either direction. Let them state their case clearly, and remind them that the new era of this realm does not tolerate petty squabbles undermining the hard-won peace. What do they *truly* seek from me?"

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