On the other hand, the pressure on Mary Ann and Fenrir's regulations and rules was rising. They were not worried yet, but the threat of being overthrown was a looming threat waiting to rise it's hidden fang.
At such a time, addressing the mass and making their presence known was a factor that could not be neglected.
Within a grand hall draped in dark velvet, Mary Ann and Fenrir stood before a polished table laden with maps, reports, and a stack of hastily written petitions. Mary Ann's sharp features were taut with determination, her fingers tracing the edges of a rolled parchment.
"We need to address them," she said, her voice resolute. "The people are growing restless, and rumors are spreading like wildfire. If we don't step in now, we lose what little control we have left."
Fenrir leaned against the edge of the table, his expression grim. "They don't want words. They want results. But fine. Let's give them their damn speech."
