You don't start a war overnight.
It begins in the shadowsone whispered conversation, one
hidden meeting, one act of defiance when the world expects you
to kneel.
And that's exactly what we're doing.
The streets of Edinburgh are damp from last night's rain, the
cobblestones slick under my boots. Fog clings to the alleyways,
curling around buildings like ghostly fingers. The early morning
light is barely breaking through the overcast sky, the air thick
with the scent of damp stone and something metallicprobably
blood, if I had to guess.
I pull my hood lower, adjusting the weight of the concealed
knife strapped to my wrist. I've never been one for weapons,
but in times like these, even a prince needs an insurance policy.
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