The morning sun filtered in through the tall stained-glass windows of Galesreach's throne room, casting colored prisms on the marble floor.
Lord Sylas Skyborne sat regally upon his carved throne of pale oak and steel, his expression unreadable as he scanned the parchment in his hand.
The polished silver circlet on his head gleamed under the morning light, much like his platinum-blonde hair that fell in loose waves around his face....disheveled and elegant all at once.
He looked beautiful, yes...but tired.
The steward at his side handed him another scroll. "A land dispute in Westmere, my lord," he murmured. "Between the elder widow Lira and the tenant farmer Fennel Ryse. They've both requested your judgment."
Sylas sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Very well. Send them in."
Two figures were led into the chamber by guards. An older woman in threadbare robes and a wiry man with sun-tanned skin and calloused hands.
