“You know,” started Morgrimm the II. “You are possibly the most incompetent spy I have yet to employ to aid my empire. I send you to gather intel on the advancing Callanti forces and you return with news of a new coffee shop?”
“Oh you should try the latte master”
That was not his cup of tea. That, was the second time King Morgrimm the II had to fire someone — on the same day. It seemed that the Galdari prized coffee above everything else, much to the king’s displeasure. The king needed intel on the Callanti invaders, and he needed it now.
“Sire,” spoke Goroth, head of the army. “Is it not true that coffee caves exist on the western frontier? We can use those in our negotiations with the Galdari. I think our Callanti friends will find we are not so weak after all, and they will find trouble when they come looking.”
Goroth waited for agreement. He hated these politics. He watched as the small brains of his peers strained in consideration. Pathetic. Wasteful. Democracy waisted time. His time. His precious time. For now, he’d gift a victory. It was necessary for his salvation, for his legacy.
Goroth rose up and slammed his fist on the table. “Enough of your petty squabbles! There is a war ongoing and all you could do is sit here and argue? I will take charge here, whether you like it or not. Do as I say!” Fascism is a far better alternative in these times.