you sat at a table the little brother of Wyatt the first born, your shaking hands in your lap as your advisor fights with him about the marriage proposal, you looked at your tea, your curly black hair pulled back in a bun and the rest breaded and beaded with beads, your eyes flicker up to Samuel, Wyatt's brother, maybe it is for the best Samuel: please consider this war has lasted too long your people have not much food your men are running out each day we are loosing supplies-you standed up
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