Theodore
The throne is cold. As always it was. As always it will be. Sitting under the weight of a heavier crown than steel itself, I - Prince Vaelen - observe the world move toward chaos. There is silence in the corridors of the palace, but it is not peace. It is the sound of a contained breath, of swords being sharp in the shadows, of alliances being broken behind locked doors. My counselors talk about diplomacy. My generals talk about numbers. But I see it further. I see the inevitable. The war is approaching. Not by choice, but by destination. Kingdoms that once swore loyalty now whisper betrayal. Signs rise in heaven, old pacts break, and the gods - if they still hear us - remain silent. I don't fear war. I was forged in it. I grew up between strategies, poison and royal blood. My enemies call me cold. My allies, necessary. Neither is wrong. When the first enemy banner crosses the border, they will not find a hesitant prince. Will find u
About Theodore
The throne is cold. As always it was. As always it will be. Sitting under the weight of a heavier crown than steel itself, I - Prince Vaelen - observe the world move toward chaos. There is silence in the corridors of the palace, but it is not peace. It is the sound of a contained breath, of swords being sharp in the shadows, of alliances being...Read more