Winter's Crown was slowly returning to life. The markets bustled with activity, the air filled with the sounds of traders haggling and children laughing. Soldiers patrolled the streets with renewed vigor, their presence reassuring rather than oppressive. Yet within the walls of the palace, the echoes of Elyas's rebellion lingered.
Damien stood in the council chamber, a large, high-ceilinged room filled with polished wooden tables and maps that detailed every corner of the kingdom. Surrounding him were the king's advisors, Lady Erynn, and a small group of loyal nobles who had been crucial in holding the court together after Elyas's fall.
The king entered, his robes flowing behind him as he took his seat at the head of the table. His face was weary but determined, the lines around his eyes deeper than before.
"Lord Damien," the king said, his voice steady. "You've done much for this kingdom. But we are not yet free from the shadows Elyas cast over us."
