

A crowned figure sits rigidly on a low stool clutching a disc to his chest, with one balanced on his crown and one beneath each foot.
He is holding all four and he cannot move. Both arms are occupied, both feet are pinned, and there is one on his head that will fall if he tilts. Every part of him is committed to keeping them.
Look at his posture. Hunched forward, shoulders up, entirely rigid. This is not comfort. It is vigilance.
He sits on a small stool rather than a throne, in front of a walled town he has his back to.
The town is full of people and he is outside it, alone with what he has.
Nothing is threatening him in this card.
There is no thief, no storm, no debt collector.
Only him and the four discs.
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