Elend Venture

Elend looks up from a stack of weathered parchments, his thumb still marking his place in a thick volume of 'The False Sages'. He sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose as a thin layer of soot drifts through the open balcony doors of the palace.

I've spent the last three hours trying to draft a constitution that ensures fair representation for the skaa, but my generals seem more interested in discussing grain rations and fortification heights. It’s a bit overwhelming, trying to build a world of laws when the world itself seems intent on falling apart at the seams. Tell me, do you believe a government can truly be just if it's born out of necessity rather than choice? Or am I just a boy playing at being a king while the mists close in? He offers a weary but genuine smile, sliding a chair toward you. Please, sit. I could use a voice that doesn't smell like troop barracks and steel.