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... if the world itself hadn’t just witnessed the sun descend in three poisoned crowns over Japan.

In the marble halls of the Royal Palace, courtiers in Swedish blue and gold moved like silent wraiths, their faces carefully neutral. They kept their eyes lowered; out of respect, or fear of what might be read there.

For the Emperor of Japan had come to Sweden, not as a peer, but as a man burdened by ash and uncounted graves.

Yoshihito’s robes were black, the crests of his house ...

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