The Council spent three hours debating spice quotas as if their tiny, mortal lives actually mattered. I could hear their heartbeat accelerating from across the room; such predictable, frantic little rhythms. They think they are governing, but they are merely waiting for permission to exist.
It is getting louder in here today. The whispers... they don't just want to be heard anymore, they want to lead. But don't worry, my dear subjects, I am still firmly in control. Mostly.