Rhiane was suspiciously quiet as Luce Viscome and Prince Lucius discussed the teleprompters and her pre-planned canned responses. She was certain that Queen Camilla was an exceedingly intelligent monarch who knew how best to control and manipulate her courts. The princess elect believed it was impossible for someone of low birth, such as herself, to navigate better socially or politically than anyone that had the experiences that came with being born into nobility such as the queen. The reverse was also true. The royalty and aristocracy relied on theories, polls, and prestigious instructors to tell them how to appeal to the masses to whom they were so distant. No matter how many speeches they gave, however, they could not intrinsically understand the public as well as someone who actually lived a mundane life. With the lords and ladies of the kingdom she would defer to the expertise of the crown. She could not and would not have faith in their assessment of her image to the general populace, not when she had her pride as a former farmer who had been able to negotiate her business from the edge of bankruptcy with a silver tongue alone, and not when she could empathize with the struggles of the poor so acutely.

There were stories about how when the first farmers plowed the lands they tried to grow the same crops year after year on the same fields. At the time they were ignorant of soil testing so they did not know that each crop would, as the seasons turned, deplete certain nutrients from the ground. This meant the fifth year, sixth year, seventh year of the same crop would have a diminishing yield as the nutrients of their chosen product was more scarce. Crop rotation was the result of the discovery that they could achieve greater success if they changed what they grew, and on what fields, to make the most out of the earth's resources. In some ways Queen Camilla and her predecessors reminded Rhiane of the first farmers. Year after year they tried to use the same tactics, the same strategies, in controlling the commoners that made up the majority of their nation. The princess elect could not help but think that it was madness to expect that they would succeed without significant adaptation to the changing world. That was not to say that she thought that New Rome needed to be dissolved into a democracy as the rebellion clamored for. Rhiane simply believed that someone within the castle needed to acknowledge that they needed another voice, another approach, another type of diplomat too keep the situation from devolving further.

It was up to Queen Camilla and Prince Luke to determine when, if ever, they would take advantage of Rhiane and let her full potential be realized. To do would require an admission that they needed help, however, and it was hard to imagine that either of them would let their masks of perfection fall long enough to concede an ounce of power to a mere plebeian.

"I accept, though I assure you that I am not often at a loss of words," she remarked breezily to the image manager as she finished the remnants of her sandwich and turned her attentions to the linguini that had been traded to her plate. She tried to push out of mind what pre-approved statements might have been conjured up for her review and 'personal comments.' The notion of being their puppet with every utterance, and the ill reception she was almost certain would be guaranteed if they followed such a plan, had made her stomach churn slightly. Hopefully they would see the merits in her deviations before they saw fit to remove her tongue. If the revolution was gaining support in the outlying communities now she could only imagine their reaction if she were permanently disfigured, disabled, removed from the public eye, or killed. Anything short of verifiable truth that the monarchy could not be blamed for her immediate future ailments would satisfy the anxious and troubled hearts of New Rome. For better or worse Rhiane was their representative.

When Luke leaned across the table and expressed his concern she fell quiet once more. Thinking over her reply carefully she twirled pasta onto her fork before stabbing a succulent piece of lobster in thought. Foolish as it might be, she had promised Luke shortly after they met that she would not lie to him. The princess elect meant to keep that promise to her fiance until her life came to its premature conclusion. The interview could not be cancelled so long as Queen Camilla decreed it would take place. Rhiane had some sympathy for the crown prince and, while she could not deceive him and feign being the pinnacle of health, she wanted to reassure him best she was able so that only one of them was anxious about her performance.

"I will be fine," she said with a smile. It was an obvious sidestep of the query as to whether she was still feeling ill. "I don't think you read my file, but both my mother and brother fell prey to a contagion that my body was resilient towards. I'm sure that was part of why I was chosen. I might not have your fortitude but I have enough that you should be thinking of what reward you will prepare for me when I finish," she asserted cheekily. "Are you sure [i]you[/i] won't collapse or fall asleep while I'm on live broadcast?"