Jade Fern Grove slay the nemean lion

he watches her movements as she draws nearer, gaze lingering as she stretches. it is a deliberate movement, he thinks; but it holds his gaze all the same.

did he remember her?

you and your people came to my borders looking for the fugitive. he recalls it, wishing that the whole situation — past as it was — did not ignite such ire and resentment within him. but he did not tolerate disobedience well and the ungrateful child had could've so very easily brought war to basilica's borders.

not that it mattered now: basilica was a ruin.

and he, a king with a broken crown; masquerading as a subordinate when it so clearly did not suit him.

i remember. he retiterates.