Late at night,in his apartments , Karl Frederick flicks through some dust laden tomes from centuries ago. He muses upon the great military deeds of his ancestors and wonders what he will be remembered for.
He thinks of Alisona , of his estranged brother Max and of the hopes of an understanding with Gallia.
He gazes intently at the parchment and observes the details of martial endeavour and purpose. Suddenly exhausted he closes the folio with a thud, extinguishes the candles and heads for the arms of Morpheus.
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