Imperator... Are you... are you Inciting Rebellion?

Intharas nudged the pages in front of him, and looked up at Minis where he sat, chin cupped on his hand, waiting.

Piss potted scum sucking vile world that put me in this place to have a WRITER as the Imperator.  An ink-scribbling, pen nursing, dog-mother of the Ten writer.  And he wants to know if I like it.

Very casually Minis picked up his cup and sipped as if he didn't care that Intharas had just finished reading the piece in front of him.  "You'll probably want to think about it, I suppose," he said.

You suppose!  Teach your dead and rotting dad to suck eggs you pup.

"Imperator... are you TRYING to foment rebellion?"

"Of course not, Intharas!  But what I wrote is the truth!  One of those ancient philosophers said "The moral arc of history is toward justice." and I find that a great comfort, having grown up under my father's hand."  Minis set his cup down with a click.  "Besides.  I am under the will of the vodai, the vote.  No need to rebel.  If enough people don't like what I want they can vote me out!"

"But... but..." Intharas sighed.  There wasn't anything to say.  He took up the paper in his hand and rose... got down in the genuflection even though Minis tried to tell him no... and then as he creaked up to his feet had pity on the boy.

"It's good.  People will like it.  People will see you as more accessible and ultimately stuff a sock in the Minis Neverborn idiot-shit-eating morons."

The ruler of the Empire grinned like a kid given a sweet.  Writers.  Bah.

"Would you care to join the family for dinner, Intharas?"

"Certainly.  Thank you, You whose Pen Graces the World."

I can still make him blush.  Good.