PREVIEW

... p>

The envoy arrived at dusk.

The moment his banner crested the hill, the village began to shift. Doors closed. Windows narrowed to slits. Children were called inside without raised voices — not from fear, but memory. The last time Valaris sent riders, blood followed. And though three months had passed, the silence had not healed. Among the villagers, the sight of crimson cloaks stirred memories no hearth could warm. To them, red did not mean royalty — it meant ruin. Some looked away. ...

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