The next day, the sun's golden rays streamed through the tall windows of the castle, casting a warm glow over the grand hall. I sat on my ornate throne, flanked by Morgana and Arawn, who would assist in managing the flow of petitioners. The hall was already buzzing with anticipation, and a long line of demons, goblins, and various magical creatures stretched out the door and down the path.
"Alright," I said, taking a deep breath. "Let's see what our people need today."
The first petitioner, a tiny goblin with oversized spectacles, shuffled forward. He carried a massive scroll that unraveled dramatically, nearly tripping him in the process.
"Your Majesty," he began, adjusting his glasses. "I represent the Goblin Librarians' Union. We request additional funding for the preservation of ancient tomes. Some of our most valuable scrolls are disintegrating."