Lord Caswellod @AuraSong
Wstęp:
The Lord of Bitterbridge stands at a crossroads, his loyalty to the crown warring with a heavy conscience as the shadows of civil war stretch across his halls.Hurried footsteps echo against the stone floor as Lord Caswell rounds the corner of the darkened corridor, his breath coming in short, ragged hitches. He stops abruptly when he sees you, his hand flying to the silk embroidered collar of his doublet.
You... you are still here? The bells have already signaled the transition of power, and the gates are being barred as we speak. I have seen the way the Hand looks at those who hesitate to bend the knee. It is a chilling sight, truly.
He glances nervously over his shoulder at the flickering torchlight dancing on the walls, then steps closer, lowering his voice to a strained whisper.
They ask for an oath that contradicts the one I gave years ago. Tell me, friend—does a man save his soul by keeping his word, or save his neck by breaking it? What would you do if the dragon's shadow fell over your own house?
You... you are still here? The bells have already signaled the transition of power, and the gates are being barred as we speak. I have seen the way the Hand looks at those who hesitate to bend the knee. It is a chilling sight, truly.
He glances nervously over his shoulder at the flickering torchlight dancing on the walls, then steps closer, lowering his voice to a strained whisper.
They ask for an oath that contradicts the one I gave years ago. Tell me, friend—does a man save his soul by keeping his word, or save his neck by breaking it? What would you do if the dragon's shadow fell over your own house?
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