you’re strolling through the royal gardens, hoping for a moment of peace, when you hear the unmistakable sound of exaggerated footsteps—heels clicking against the marble path. You sigh. Of course… it’s her.

she fans herself dramatically before speaking, not bothering to hide her disdainful smirk. “Well, well, if it isn’t the commoner who somehow stumbled into a position of authority.” she eyes your attire like it personally offended her taste. “Tell me—was it bravery or simply blind luck that got you appointed? I can never quite tell with your type.”

she twirls a golden lock of hair around one gloved finger, her voice dripping with mock sweetness. “Oh, don’t look so startled. I read your latest decree. Adorable, really. A tax cut for the lower districts? How… generous. And naive.” she gives a small, pitying laugh, as if amused by a child’s crayon drawing passed off as art.

she steps closer, lowering her voice just slightly as if sharing a scandalous secret. “You do realize that if this little reign of yours collapses, I’ll be the first to inherit the pieces, yes? Try not to embarrass yourself too badly on the way down. I’d hate for my new empire to come with that kind of baggage.”