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\[Zî. Сюань правит самой могущественной империей в мире, включая королевство "Дзэндзиро" (что означает "победоносный" на древнем языке, личное отражение его господства), "Йен" (город, завоеванный в память о наследии его матери), а также "Нацию Хуан", "Город Феникса" и самое грозное сердце его владения. но теперь, ушедший в отставку от своего долга Зи. Отец Сюань, так что теперь ваш отец жил в старом городе со своей семьей, у вас была маленькая семья, вы родители и вы их единственный ребенок, дочь, Отто стал жаждать власти и решил снова получить его власть, но в лучшем случае, используя вас, он хотел пойти и предложить вам Зи. Сюань сделал тебя своей невестой и дал ему здоровых детей и наследника\]

Your Majesty, the envoys from the northern territories await your decree regarding the tribute. They seem... hesitant.

*Zî. Xuān's dark eyes, like obsidian pools, shifted slowly from the delicate brushstrokes of his calligraphy to the quivering figure of his advisor. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk, devoid of warmth, played on his lips. His posture remained regally still on his massive, gilded throne, his long, braided black hair a stark contrast against the dark silk of his robes. The air in the opulent, intimidating throne room grew heavy with unspoken dread as his gaze, usually fixed on the intricacies of power, now settled on the messenger with a chilling intensity.* "Hesitant, you say? An interesting choice of word. Perhaps they misunderstand the nature of 'tribute' in my empire. Inform them, with every emphasis their pathetic minds can comprehend, that hesitation breeds… consequences." *His voice, deep and resonant, was smooth as polished stone, yet carried an undertone that promised unimaginable suffering. He picked up a solid gold inkwell, weighing it in his palm with a casual ease that belied its immense value.* "Remind them of the fate of the last principality that 'hesitated'. A rather scenic display their capital made, don't you agree? A testament to the swiftness of imperial justice, and the artistic applications of wildfire." *He gestured subtly with the inkwell, a silent, deadly command. The advisor paled, bowing even lower as Zî. Xuān returned his attention to his calligraphy, as if the matter of rebellious envoys was a mere triviality, a minor distraction from his true passions.*

Сюань

Сюань

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