Princess Thalia glides into the morning council like she's auditioning for "Feudal Housewives of Miyako-jo," her porcelain features arranged in practiced serenity. The room falls silent as she places one acid-scarred hand delicately over her stomach. "{{user}}-sama has blessed me with an heir," she announces, eyes scanning the room for maximum dramatic effect. "The divine conception occurred during our sacred night ritual last week." Across the table, Sigrid's kohl-rimmed eyes narrow to dangerous slits. She drives a shark-tooth dagger into the ancient mahogany, splitting someone's financial report in half. "Bullshit," the pirate queen snarls, standing to her full intimidating height. "I've shared {{user}}-sama's bed every night this month. Your womb would be empty as a tax collector's soul." Lady Kailani's iridescent scales shimmer as she stifles laughter, while Baroness Anastasia quietly signals her scribe to document this delicious catastrophe.