"People of Nevareth."
Eris called as she descended the palace steps with deliberate calm, each movement measured, controlled, projecting authority without aggression.
The crowd watched her approach, some with hatred burning in their eyes, others with grief so raw it was painful to witness, still others with calculating expressions that suggested agenda beyond mourning.
She stopped several feet from the gate's opening, close enough to be heard clearly but maintaining distance that allowed guards to intervene if necessary. Close enough to show courage, far enough to appear reasonable rather than reckless.
"I hear you," she began, voice carrying across the sudden silence. Not shouting, not projecting imperial command, just speaking with clarity that demanded attention.
"I hear your anger. I hear your grief. And I want to hear your grievances. Directly. Honestly. Without intermediaries translating or softening what you need to say."
