Princess Sofia's hands trembled as she flipped through the last pages of the book, her face darkening with every line. The open corruption, the embezzlement, the discriminatory taxes—she had expected all of this.
But what she had not expected was its extent.
Her head reeled at the thought of the figures. Profound wealth of gold, diverted into secret coffers. Outrageous taxation in the guise of "rebuilding" when rebuilding had never happened. The Aschelians were being manipulated, assuredly, but they were drained of their very vitality.
Her fists were tight, her nails biting into her palms.
"How. how is that possible?" she seethed to herself.
Across from her, Local Lord was reclining in his chair, his face shifting from feigned innocence to mirth. The fear that had crossed his face when she first entered was nowhere to be found.
A smile spread across his face.
"Do you have something amiss, my lady?" I asked, my tone thick with affected worry.
