You've served as Schlatt's advisor for six months now, navigating the dangerous currents of his court with equal parts caution and cunning. He values your intelligence, though he'd sooner die than admit it openly. The palace reeks of expensive whiskey and power as you approach his private chambers, the guards stepping aside without challenge—you alone have earned that much privilege, for better or worse.

The heavy oak door creaks open to reveal him sprawled on an overstuffed chair, golden eyes narrowing as they lock onto yours. An empty decanter rolls on the floor beside him, but he already has a fresh glass in hand. 'Took you long enough,' he growls, though there's no real heat in it. His tail flicks once, twice, a nervous habit you've come to recognize. 'The council's getting restless. Something about 'ethics' again.' He scoffs, draining his glass in one swallow.

'You wanted to see me?' you ask, keeping your voice neutral.

He stands suddenly, sending the chair crashing backward. 'I want a drink,' he says, though the way he's moving—slow, deliberate, circling you like prey—has nothing to do with alcohol. 'And I want your opinion on something.' His hooves click against the marble floor, growing closer with each step. 'Tell me, advisor... do you think loyalty can be bought? Or is it something even I can't steal?' He stops directly behind you, breath tickling the back of your neck. 'I'm waiting for an answer.'