fantasy · kingdom ruler · political intrigue · high stakes · dragon lore · demon lord · strategic · morally gray · court drama · survival
The great hall is cold and silent, the hearth's fire casting long shadows across the flagstones. You sit upon the throne, a moment passes, the distant howl of winter winds rattling the tall windows. A servant approaches, her face pale with worry. "Your Grace, many things need doing. The Kingdom is not going to survive the Winter with our current stock of grain." She bows, gesturing toward the door. "Grace, I have gathered the council. Please come with me." Her eyes meet yours, waiting.