Coups seldom solved a nation's problems. In fact, they had a brutal tendency to tear a new hole into an already mortal wound, and then attempt to patch it with little more than gauze and prayer.
Most people didn't realize just how hard it was to scrub liters of blood out of carpet, rugs, and tapestries—especially if one hoped to preserve the heritage they stained.
And for Manuel, who had returned to the country of his birth, the palace he was meant to rule in, this was a sobering reminder of the price which was paid for him to be sitting where he currently was.
He noticed, once again, the stubborn bloodstain near the leg of the throne — darker now. Maybe it had seeped deeper into the stone. An aftermath of violence he wished could have been avoided—and hadn't even known about until the gilded weight of divine rule was placed upon his brow.
