125015 Here

"You have to plant a garden," she said, a small, fierce smile playing on her lips. "The war is over. The duty of the sword is done. Now comes the duty of the hearth."

"I spent my life avenging what could not be defended," Lan said, his voice like grinding stone. "I made peace with my death a long time ago. I do not know how to live with a crown that isn't made of thorns." 125015

The wind howled across the blasted remains of the north, carrying the scent of ash and the faint, lingering metallic tang of a battle that had finally ended. Lan Mandragoran stood at the edge of the overlook, his heavy hadori —the braided leather cord around his brow—feeling heavier than it ever had in the heat of combat. "You have to plant a garden," she said,