Something a step or two above anarchy would be ideal.
Now there was a power-hungry Emperor running things.
Both history and personal experience had taught Atour that in as little as a few years, or as much as a few centuries, there would come evolution-or revolution-and this, too, would pass. The new rulers would start out full of promise and hope and good intentions, and gradually settle into mediocrity. A benevolent but inept king was as bad as a despot.
The warning bell chimed, and the pilot's voxcast said,
"Attention all passengers, docking will be complete in five minutes. Please check and make sure you have all your belongings before debarkation."
Atour Riten chuckled softly. There was a word you didn't
hear that often.
Debark, from Old Low Frusoise, meaning "to leave a
small sailing ship's secondary boat." Who on board knew that, save for himself and perhaps the pilot?
Probably no one. And probably no one cared in the least.
When you got to be Atour's age, you had to take your amusements where you could.
Especially with a seatmate nattering on and on about