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ID: Nvh1BTbG/qst/6261156#6268729
7/2/2025, 5:43:15 AM
>>6268727
>“What the hell is this?” You ask, observing the scene with great annoyance. The room before you was vast, filled to the brim with men and women dressed in silk fineries. Their backs were turned towards you, and they faced the front of the room, where you saw a large stained glass depicting a white-haired old man, likely the Sorcerer King. There was a raised dais, and you could make out a throne of some sort, but because of the crowd before you, you could not make out who was sitting there.
“Ugh, they’re petitioners.” Chelsey groans. “Mages of high regard, here representing the various interests of Morfis. Most are already in the pocket of the Sages. They come here everyday to demand things of your cousin. I was hoping they’d be gone by now, but it appears we were not that fortunate.”
“Silence!”
A woman’s voice echoes through the hall commandingly, shutting up the grumbles of those present within this vast hall. You’d recognize that voice anywhere. Bronte was here.
“This matter has already been settled long ago, and a great deal of work has gone into this effort. This is the will of Princess Yulia, and no changes shall be made.”
“So you say!” A male voice cries out in opposition to Bronte’s. “However, how can we be so sure that is the truth? No one has spoken to Princess Yulia other than yourself. Are we just supposed to take your word that this inane contest has her blessing?”
“That’s right!” Another voice, this time a woman’s, exclaims. “In all our history, there have never been as many foreigners present as there are now! And each of these ‘contenders’ has brought with them a small army! If they decided to work together, they might very well cause complete havoc across the entire country!”
“That shall not happen.” Bronte declares. “They will abide by the rules of fair competition. As for the Princess, you know very well that she need not show herself to you until she is wed. That rule was instituted by her late father, the former King. As Prime Minister of Morfis, I intend to see his wishes are followed.”
“How convenient.” The first voice says smugly. “The first time a foreigner is Prime Minister of our great nation, she invites a horde of foreign savages from the Dark Continent, all with the promise of ruling over us. And we should just accept this?!”
Once more the audience hall breaks out into a frenzy, each person clamoring to add their own thought to the discussion.
>“Fuck sake…” You groan. “How long does this go on for?”
“They’re very animated today.” Chelsey says. “They must be growing nervous now that the Competition is so close to starting. This might take a few hours.”
>“Fuck that. I’ll interrupt.”
“Don’t!” Chelsey warns. “That’ll just make things worse. Leave it to your cousin.”
>A): Move to the front and interject.
>B): Sit tight and watch.
>C): Write-in
>“What the hell is this?” You ask, observing the scene with great annoyance. The room before you was vast, filled to the brim with men and women dressed in silk fineries. Their backs were turned towards you, and they faced the front of the room, where you saw a large stained glass depicting a white-haired old man, likely the Sorcerer King. There was a raised dais, and you could make out a throne of some sort, but because of the crowd before you, you could not make out who was sitting there.
“Ugh, they’re petitioners.” Chelsey groans. “Mages of high regard, here representing the various interests of Morfis. Most are already in the pocket of the Sages. They come here everyday to demand things of your cousin. I was hoping they’d be gone by now, but it appears we were not that fortunate.”
“Silence!”
A woman’s voice echoes through the hall commandingly, shutting up the grumbles of those present within this vast hall. You’d recognize that voice anywhere. Bronte was here.
“This matter has already been settled long ago, and a great deal of work has gone into this effort. This is the will of Princess Yulia, and no changes shall be made.”
“So you say!” A male voice cries out in opposition to Bronte’s. “However, how can we be so sure that is the truth? No one has spoken to Princess Yulia other than yourself. Are we just supposed to take your word that this inane contest has her blessing?”
“That’s right!” Another voice, this time a woman’s, exclaims. “In all our history, there have never been as many foreigners present as there are now! And each of these ‘contenders’ has brought with them a small army! If they decided to work together, they might very well cause complete havoc across the entire country!”
“That shall not happen.” Bronte declares. “They will abide by the rules of fair competition. As for the Princess, you know very well that she need not show herself to you until she is wed. That rule was instituted by her late father, the former King. As Prime Minister of Morfis, I intend to see his wishes are followed.”
“How convenient.” The first voice says smugly. “The first time a foreigner is Prime Minister of our great nation, she invites a horde of foreign savages from the Dark Continent, all with the promise of ruling over us. And we should just accept this?!”
Once more the audience hall breaks out into a frenzy, each person clamoring to add their own thought to the discussion.
>“Fuck sake…” You groan. “How long does this go on for?”
“They’re very animated today.” Chelsey says. “They must be growing nervous now that the Competition is so close to starting. This might take a few hours.”
>“Fuck that. I’ll interrupt.”
“Don’t!” Chelsey warns. “That’ll just make things worse. Leave it to your cousin.”
>A): Move to the front and interject.
>B): Sit tight and watch.
>C): Write-in
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