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“Arturio had been so sick for so many years, the last thing the nobility expected was for him to appear at the concordat. But there was no mistaking that face, aged though it was from years on his sickbed. The king was aware, he was angry, and by the radiant energy steadily flowing from his wrists and hands, he had no intention of allowing them to carry out their treason..”
A majestic, bearded king in regal robes and a crown conjures a magical light in a misty, candlelit throne room.
