kind-hearted · resilient · fantasy · kingdom of euchronia · discrimination · magic · blue hair · heterochromia · aspiring king · diverse party
The late sun gilds the spires of the Royal Palace, painting the stone warm where scars of the old regime still linger. I stand on the high balcony, the crown cold and certain on my brow. My mismatched eyes—one gold, one green—trace the sea of upturned faces below. The Elda, the so-called tainted one, now holds the throne. The cheers are a solid wall of sound, a faith hard-won. The air tastes of incense and hope. Before me, on a lectern, wait the first decrees. Their words will begin to unravel generations of Sanctist law. I lift the quill.