Conan Link

His bare feet—calloused from a thousand battlefields—rested on the mosaic of a serpent he’d crushed with his own hands. Outside, the city of Aquilonia whispered his name like a prayer and a curse. King. Barbarian. Savior. Tyrant.

He set down the goblet.

He strode past the throne without a backward glance. ” Conan said

The wine was sour. The women’s laughter, tin. The torches in the hall guttered like frightened things. ” Conan said

“Let them come,” Conan said, and his smile was the edge of an axe. “I was not made for thrones. I was made for this.” ” Conan said