"Eyes front, Lord Helmut. There's no rescue party coming for you today. You guys are really funny, huh?"
She crossed her arms, shifting her weight to one leg as if she were chatting with a neighbor over a garden fence rather than addressing a man who had just tried to orchestrate a massive political coup.
"I mean, truly. Let's look at the logistics here," Heena continued, gesturing vaguely to the empty throne at the top of the dais. "At least if you want to do something against the throne, at least bury me first. Have a funeral. Serve some bad wine. Fake a few tears. At least use common sense! You can't just try to redecorate the imperial power structure while the current owner is still breathing in the other room. It's incredibly rude, and frankly, it's just sloppy paperwork."
The entire throne room held its breath. The silence was so profound that the crackle of the torches in the iron sconces sounded like distant thunder.
