To have so much fun yesterday, only to now be forced into some farce called the 'Royal Council.' A monthly occurrence where the high-ranking nobles, chancellors, and king all gathered in one room to discuss the state of Catatran.
Ixion, despite his lazy nature and inclination toward seclusion, always attended these councils. Such was the duty of a king, even a mad one.
'At least sometimes they're entertaining!'
But most of the time, they were boring, filled with talk of trading, internal strife, and other trivial matters.
These meetings used to be few and far between, but ever since the situation with the Scourge worsened, they've become monthly.
'Ah, but at least I get to piss off the nobles directly…'
Ixion hadn't gotten to do that recently. He'd been pissing them off, yes, but never directly to their faces.
