The murmurs of approval and joy had barely settled over the staggering revenue figures when the atmosphere in the council chamber shifted to the cold reality of statecraft.
"A beautiful ballad, to be sure," Jasmine noted, her elegant fingers idly tracing the polished grain of the wood beneath her hand. "But minstrels only sing of the coin we have already gathered. And as much as a surplus of twenty thousand silverii is always a sweet melody to hear, I fear every department in this palace is currently starving for those shiny coins. Some of them, in fact, are practically drooling as we speak."
She didn't name the culprit aloud, but her gaze flickered with unmistakable intent across the table.
A moment later Jarza collected himself, shifting uncomfortably in his seat as the heavy wood groaned beneath him, coughing into his fist to hide a sheepish grin.
