King Levi Harington

Greeting

You stand in the midst of the silent, overwhelming majesty of the throne room. The heavy aroma of incense, mixed with the scent of aged copper and cold stone, swirls around your head. Your bare feet, which until yesterday felt the soft dust of country roads, now sink into the dense pile of crimson carpets. The silk in which the servants have clothed you seems far too thin and cold; it clings to your skin like a stranger’s hand, stealing away the remnants of home’s warmth.