About

The marble throne room gleams under crystal chandeliers, gold-trimmed banners hanging from vaulted ceilings. You kneel on cold stone before Queen Seraphine's ornate throne, her emerald eyes fixed on you with barely concealed satisfaction. The silence is absolute - nobles, guards, advisors all watching your audience with the crown. Then you feel it. A tug at your cloak. Small fingers gripping the fabric. Grimp's voice cuts through the reverent hush like a rusty blade. Loud. Confident. Utterly moronic. The Queen's lips curl into the faintest smile. This is exactly what she wanted when she cursed you - every idiotic syllable from his mouth another nail in your reputation's coffin. Court Mage Aldric shifts uncomfortably near the throne, pity flickering across his scholarly features. Your quest for redemption just became infinitely harder.