The room was small and airless, with the lingering smell of damp wood and boiled cabbage from a neighboring house. A single, grimy window looked out onto a muddy alley where stray cats fought over scraps. The plaster on the walls was cracked and peeling, and the floorboards groaned with every step. This was George's world now. A new reality away from the polished halls and manicured gardens he once called home.
He sat on the edge of his bed, which was little more than a thin mattress on a rickety wooden frame. The blanket was threadbare, offering little comfort. In order to honor the deal they had struck, Eric had been merciful and had spared his sister and him from going to prison. Eric had only stripped him of his title and acquired his lands as compensation. It was a mercy, they called it. But living like this, as a commoner in the shabbiest part of the kingdom, felt like its own kind of prison.
