The Ballad of Adler Young, Canto 2.5

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>Adler: "How dare you!" You were trained in secret by the best tutors in the empire! You have gone on many adventures and learned many things! From which ivory tower is "Dr. Cesawonki" the banished and forgotten by history standing in that he can cast judgement on you and deem you unwise? You are not a fool! What exactly can Ash point at that gives him the gall to label you such?
>Vernier and Rebecca: You both takes a step back as the two elves begin raising their voices.

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"Oh that's rich," I scoffed. "Coming from Dr. Cesawonki, banished from Faerie and forgotten by history. What makes you think you can stand there and tell me I'm a bad decision maker?"

"Your entire life story," Ash replied. "The whole of it proves that you lack foresight, judgement, planning, and even basic problem solving skills."

"At least people KNOW why I'm exiled," I interrupted testily. "Nobody has ever even heard of you."

"The only thing in your favor," Ash continued doggedly, "is the fact that, incredible as it seems, you are a scion of Irenaeus. If you're going to be Emperor, you have a lot of shaping up to do."

"Why in the Netherhells do you even care?" I yelled. "If I'm such a fool, you should be delighted! Help put me on the throne and you'll have a stooge you can manipulate to your liking just like everyone else has done all my life."

"That's tellin'im Adler honey," Burnside suddenly exclaimed. "Give 'im - OOOF!"

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"That's two aphids from everyone," Typantronn called out joyously.

"Dagnabbit," Burnside continued after a brief pause, her voice slightly muffled due to the prone position in which she was sprawled. "Why in tarnation did y'all put these durn stupid shoes on me? Twasn't nice."

"Installing a puppet won't do, because Faerie needs a good emperor," Ash droned on in the mug. "If half of what I've heard is accurate, Faerie is sinking into a new dark age - assuming it isn't already in one. Faerie hasn't had a good emperor in a long time. Meanwhile, I have been forced to live among the lowfolk for ages, and I have observed their march of progress. I despise lowfolk, as all elves should. They are coarse, lowly, vulgar, short-lived creatures that are barely a step above feral animals. Forcing an elf to live among lowfolk is like sealing a beautiful dove inside a barrel of cockroaches."

"You're hardly a beautiful dove," I quipped. "Besides, don't birds eat insects? Being locked inside an all-you-can-eat buffet doesn't sound like such a terrible fate."

"Oh ha ha, Your Highness," Ash shot back, sarcastically. "Listen: By some grotesque miscarriage of fate, in the great game of civilization, the lowfolk are winning. They're figuring out mass production, they are revolutionizing warfare with their ingenious firearms, and their creature comforts grow by the day. Meanwhile, Faerie is in a downward spiral and literally falling apart at the seams, perforated everywhere by those horrible Gaps. Every bit of progress the lowfolk make, every step they take towards the future is a slap in the face of elves everywhere. WE are the wise, the ageless, the powerful. WE should rule not only our world, but theirs as well! Currently we rule neither. The status quo is destroyed. This must be fixed."