Lucian stood at the entrance to the imperial capital, staring up at the massive gates with the enthusiasm of a man marching toward his own execution.
"Alright, hear me out," he muttered to Dorian and Elaine as they dismounted. "What if I trip on purpose? Knock myself unconscious? That buys us at least a few days."
Dorian groaned. "We’ve been over this. You have to give a speech before the Emperor and the court. It’s non-negotiable."
Elaine smirked. "Honestly, I’d love to see you improvise something. Might be the best comedy act this city has ever witnessed."
Lucian sighed as a finely dressed court official approached. "Lord Veilwood, welcome to the capital. His Majesty eagerly anticipates your insights into governance." The official’s tone was polite but held a distinct undercurrent of do not embarrass us all.
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"Oh, don’t worry," Lucian said weakly. "I’m full of… insights."
As they entered the grand halls of the palace, Lucian’s nerves hit a peak. The chamber was vast, lined with golden pillars and filled with high-ranking nobles, military officers, and political schemers, all waiting to hear the ‘brilliant’ Lord Veilwood speak.
Lucian took his place before the Emperor’s throne, Dorian gripping his notes in silent prayer. A herald stepped forward. "Lord Lucian Veilwood of Duskwatch will now address the court!"
Lucian cleared his throat. His mind went blank.
A long silence stretched.
Someone coughed.
Lucian’s mouth opened, and the first words he blurted were: "Taxes are bad."
Another silence. Then murmurs rippled through the room.
One noble nodded thoughtfully. "A bold stance."
Another whispered, "Truly revolutionary."
Lucian, realizing they were buying it, pressed on. "Indeed! Taxation is a burden on progress! And—uh—people spend money better when they have it!" He paused. "Obviously."
The Emperor leaned forward, intrigued. "Go on."
Lucian gulped. Oh no.
Dorian, nearly fainting, whispered, "My lord, please stop before you start a revolution."
