Diplomacy, the most boring thing in this godsforsaken world.
Mistral nodded, signed the appropriate papers, shook the appropriate hands, and praised the appropriate people as she went through her day, feeling more like an assembly line worker than the heir to one of the old empires. She was supposed to be the reincarnation of some powerful figure, and yet she was expected to sit around all day and listen to others talk.
Well, actually, she was expected to simply sit around all day, doing absolutely nothing. And then she had been overcome by a moment of temporary, but severely crippling, stupidity. And, in that moment, she requested that she please be allowed to do something, if you don't mind, to get her out of this boring as hell palace.
The others had been all too happy to oblige her, so long as she was protected by a team of bodyguards, which she had yet to actually give a formal name to. She was still thinking up a good one. One that would inspire fear into the hearts of her enemies, and whatever else a good name was supposed to do.
In any case, she had been assigned several armed guards, posted on her at all times. She was, after all, the most wanted person in the other half of the- Here, people would stop, force a cough, and correct themselves by saying, in the traitorous portion of the empire. If she remembered properly, her head was currently the most valuable thing in some parts of her empire, a fact that filled her with an almost twisted sense of pride.
But... Of course, it hadn't been what she'd expected it to be. Mistral had at least hoped that the monotony of politics was better than the monotony of daily life. It was like hoping that the monotony of burning in Hell was better than the monotony of harp playing and chorus singing up in Heaven. Simply put, she hated it as much as she possibly could.
Her mind snapped back to the present, as she lazily signed her name on the most recent document shoved at her, the death warrants of misters Stone and Wood, two spooks from the New Xanacorian Empire, intent on somehow drugging and kidnapping her. She secretly wished that they'd've succeeded, in order to put an end to her miserable existence.
"Weeeeeeell," she began, as her last visitor left her alone with the armed guards around her, "that was great. Really, that was the most enjoyable ten hours of my life. Now, if you wouldn't mind, I'm going to..." she thought for a moment, wondering what in the world she could do with her free time. Which, incidentally, brought her back to the problem she was faced with earlier. "I'm going to..." she repeated, thinking more, "go... do something," she finished lamely, stretching her arms and walking out of the room.
Maybe she would put more thought into names for her bodyguards. Something subtle, almost absurd, yet something that had just the intimidating edge...
The Massacre Mikos? It was a thought...
