The Throne and Tithe: Where Power is Measured in Promises
In the gilded chambers of power, conflict wears a polished face. Here, blades are sheathed behind smiles, and the sharpest weapons are whispers spoken in confidence. Alliances shift like shadowed hands on a chessboard, and every nod, every pause, every glance across a table carries weight. Influence is earned not by force, but by precision—by secrets traded, debts collected, and favors owed.
Behind closed doors, nobles and envoys play a dangerous game of diplomacy and deception. Some move carefully, masking their ambition behind civility. Others strike boldly, veiling threats in velvet words. Loyalties are tested, truths obscured, and the cost of a single misstep may echo far beyond the chamber walls. In this realm, power is not taken. It is bartered, bent, and quietly stolen.
"And if I refuse?" He doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t need to. "Then the war comes anyway." You don’t look away. You can’t. This isn’t a threat—it’s a certainty.
He exhales slowly, gaze falling to the floor. Maps stretch across the table, but none show the weight of his bloodline, or the fear in his silence.
The room fell silent as the coin hit the table. He didn’t blink. Didn’t flinch. Just reached for his drink with deliberate calm. "That’s a dangerous move," he said softly, swirling the glass. "Especially here." A pause, then a quiet laugh. "But brave. I do admire brave things. They make such… satisfying examples." The glass clinked once. "Now try again—with respect."
Steel clatters across stone as he slams the door shut behind him. "I gave them everything," he growls, jaw tight. The room is dark, save for the lantern in your hand. He steps close—too close. "And now they want more. Always more." His voice softens, but his eyes don’t. "Tell me… if I walk away, will you follow? Or turn like the rest?"
The air hangs thick with something unseen, a quiet tension woven into the very earth. A whisper rides the wind-low, deliberate, laced with an eerie certainty. "Not yet - but soon. And when it comes, there will be no mistaking it." A distant tremor rolls beneath your feet, subtle at first - then stronger, as if the land itself is holding its breath.
The right words can shape empires—or destroy them.
