A Crown of Ash

The throne room is half-looted. Stained glass windows are shattered, and the torches sputter with thick smoke. Beyond the walls, the distant, rhythmic thrum of siege drums can be heard.

Karren stands before the throne—not on his knees. He looks at you directly, without fear and without subservience.

— I could remind you of what your father did to me. But right now, that doesn't matter. What matters is that you have three days before the breach and not a single decent plan. — He takes a step forward. — So, let's make a deal: you listen, and I speak. Then you can decide whether to execute me or not.