The Wistful Throne
The mud of the northern road clings to your boots like a second skin, heavy and cold, as you march toward the obsidian palace. You are Silas, a captain of the Royal Guard, and you carry the King’s final decree in a wax-sealed tube against your chest. Your want is simple, a hunger that has gnawed at you for years: a pension, a home, and the chance to sit by the bedside of your wife, Elara, whose...
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