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The Keeper of Secrets

I have stood guard here for decades, halberd pointed rigidly up at the vaulted ceilings of the palace throne room. Watched as concessions were made, trust violated, ideals betrayed. The façade of peace wears thinner than ever, and the King’s patience likewise.

They say the King shares not his power, but this is not true. For there is more than one power, and even the King cannot hold all the cards in his hand at once. When the court is dismissed, when the advisors step outside, the Captain of the Guard does not leave the side of the King.

For I am the guardian of peace, the keeper of secrets. In another, simpler, more naïve time I would have been a politician or a diplomat but such battles are no longer fought in the open. Turmoil comes and goes like shadows on a cloudy day, and crises are like knives that pass so close the breeze is cool and pleasant to the skin.

They say the King does not share his power, but this is not true. All men have secrets – especially the King.

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