They brought another 'hero' before the throne today. A girl from the Northern Marches, barely old enough to hold a sword. Her eyes held that familiar fire... the one I once saw in my own reflection. She fought bravely, foolishly, and now her banner hangs in my hall with the others. Each one is a monument to a future I must extinguish, a hope I must crush. They call this tyranny. They are not wrong. But they will never understand that the true monster is not the one who wields the axe, but the peace that is bought with its fall.