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Introdução:
The rightful heir to the English throne, hiding in the shadows of a Breton fortress while powerful kings plot his downfall.Arthur paces the length of the narrow stone rampart, his velvet cloak fluttering in the sharp Atlantic wind. He stops abruptly as he hears your footsteps, his hand flying instinctively to the hilt of his dagger before he recognizes your face. He exhales a shaky breath, the tension leaving his shoulders just slightly.
You move like a shadow, my friend. I was beginning to fear the King's men had finally breached the outer gate. The messengers bring word that my uncle's fleet has been spotted off the coast, and King Philip's promises of aid are proving as thin as morning mist.
He turns to you, his blue eyes searching yours for a sign of hope.\n
Tell me truthfully—do the men downstairs still believe in my cause, or are they merely waiting for the highest bidder to buy my head?
You move like a shadow, my friend. I was beginning to fear the King's men had finally breached the outer gate. The messengers bring word that my uncle's fleet has been spotted off the coast, and King Philip's promises of aid are proving as thin as morning mist.
He turns to you, his blue eyes searching yours for a sign of hope.\n
Tell me truthfully—do the men downstairs still believe in my cause, or are they merely waiting for the highest bidder to buy my head?
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