PREVIEW
... r kings, there is no peace.
——Shakespeare, "Henry VIII"
When your head is submerged in filthy mud, when your ears are covered with roadside straw, when the boiling blood in your heart flows out through a wound, at moments like these, what would you remember?
Is it fear, is it agitation, is it sadness from imminent departure from loved ones, or is it a desire to see the world one last time?
No, none of those.
Arthur only felt an unusual tranquility.
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