"Your Majesty! When will you send proper official letters to your people?!"
Just like any normal day in the imperial palace, Conan's voice thundered across the emperor's office. Moments ago, Abel used one of the official emperor's couriers to send a letter to the House of Vandran. Everyone in the empire knew that when they saw a huge hawk flying, it was from the emperor.
"Should I write the Marquess a poem, then?" asked Abel whilst tilting his head, hand holding a pen as he was finishing his work so he could see Aries early. "Why do I need to make my letters sound flowery when I can simply go straight to the point?"
"Ugh... my headache." Conan pinched the bridge of his nose. Why was he even bothering to make Abel a proper emperor? Right... because his personality was just growing worse during every reign!
