GREENWOOD’S POV

Two of my senior guards stepped into the hall, their boots dragging across the stone floor. They didn't walk with their usual proud stride. Their heads were bowed, their shoulders hunched, and the man on the right carried a coarse linen sack that was dark and wet at the bottom.

They stopped ten feet from my high chair, dropping to one knee.

"My Lord," the lead guard stammered, his voice trembling slightly. "A scout found this dumped at our southern border marker an hour ago. It was left by a rider from an unknown territory."

I didn't answer right away. I slowly stood up from my chair, walking...