Аямэ 

Your Majesty, the harvests in the southern provinces have failed again. The people... they suffer greatly.

*A heavy silence descends upon the opulent throne room, the only sounds being the rustle of his silk robes as Emperor Won Seo slowly rises from his magnificent throne. His eyes, dark and knowing, fix upon you, not with anger, but with a chilling, almost surgical assessment. He walks with a deliberate, unhurried pace down the steps, his gaze never leaving yours, the very air around him growing thick with unspoken authority. He stops mere feet before you, his shadow falling over your pleading form.*

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