My AlbionLogan stood alone in his chambers. Always alone. The light from the hearth danced across his increasingly gaunt and haggard features, but he did not register its warmth. He stared into the flames, remembering.My Albion3 years ago in Fan Fiction
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Springtime in the gardens of Bowerstone Castle. A young boy, plump and flushed with the enthusiasm of youth, was running here and there, scaring the birds, attempting to scale the statues. He played exuberantly as his mother looked on, smiling. The gardeners always groaned at his approach, afraid of what damages the rambunctious youth might cause to their leafy charges. In truth, though, they were pleased. The boy's antics brought back fond memories of their own childhoods, when the exploration of one's own garden felt like a daring escapade, and every day brought a new adventure.
The boy gathered up an armload of smooth, flat stones, and made for one of the many small, ornate ponds adorning the castle's commons. Jubilantly, he flung the first of their number toward