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The palace library was a quiet place, just the way I liked it. In the early morning, it was quietest of all, with the pale morning light filtering in through the windows, the birdsong floating in from the palace gardens, and the rustle of parchment as I, Prince Endomer of Korin, lost myself in the pages of a dusty old book about ancient civilizations. No one else was around at this early hour.
I stood, stretched my arms and turned my gaze out the window. The capital city of Phylamoria stretched for miles, the red shingled rooftops glowing golden in the light of the rising sun. It was a layered city, with arches reaching over buildings to walkways that led to another tier of dwellings. Little puffs of smoke drifted out of chimney stacks.