Ulric Bloodfang, The Lycan King
The endless sprawl of Falir stretched before me.
Yet, my gaze held none of the usual kingly appreciation for his domain. Instead, it remained stubbornly fixed on the bustling council chamber. Inside, Elara, Thorne, and Marcus—my ever-bickering advisors—were embroiled in their usual heated debate.
"The tariffs on lumber from the southern province are exorbitant!" Elara, her hair practically vibrating with indignation, slammed her fist on the polished oak table. "The people are struggling, Thorne!"
Thorne harrumphed. "Poppycock, Elara! The lumber trade keeps this kingdom afloat. You wouldn't understand the intricacies of economic—"
Before he could launch into one of his insufferably long-winded economic lectures, Marcus cut him off with a frustrated sigh
