SOREN
The governor was brought to me by my men. His composure was a polished thing, a suit of armor he'd worn for so long he likely forgot how to take it off.
He still wore the prepared face of the concerned administrator, though the cracks around his eyes were deepening. He was a man who believed in the power of the theater, and he was currently performing for his life.
"Your Majesty," he began, his voice smooth, professional, pitched at a level of respectful concern. "I believe there has been some misunderstanding regarding the grain—"
"Sit down," I said.
"I assure you," he continued, as if I hadn't spoken, "the logistics of immediate full-scale distribution require certain protocols to prevent—"
"Sit."
He sat. The transition was sharp, his posture adjusting as the reality of the room shifted. He began to understand that this was not the meeting he had rehearsed. This was not a negotiation between an emperor and a duke's representative. This was something else.
