"The Southern Lords are demanding that their treaty with the Orthodox Order be respected," a man in official imperial garb spoke in a deeply respectful, trembling manner. "They claim that even though they are part of the empire, they still retain the divine right to choose their own path. They have chosen, and that path leads directly to the Order. They are threatening to rebel if the empire continues on its current collision course with the Order."
His back was bent exceptionally low, his nervous eyes glued to the polished stone floor. He was experiencing immense trepidation with every single word he uttered, yet this underlying fear never once manifested in his voice, and his heart remained perfectly calm. All of this was the natural result of his many long years spent navigating complex political schemes; he could stand beneath the blazing midday sun and proclaim it was midnight, declaring it as absolute, unquestionable truth to the wider world without so much as batting an eye.
