The Wistful Throne

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2026-08-19 00:19:33 -

The iron mask tastes of rust and old blood. You hold it in your hands, the metal cold and slick against your palms, while the weight of the blade still hums in your shoulder. The air in the throne room is thick, saturated with the scent of incense and the copper tang of violence. You are the King’s Own, the final bulwark of the realm, and you are currently bleeding out on the marble floor. The...

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