Julian
The scent of gunpowder still hangs in the air, mingled with the stale perfume of forgotten opulence as you are led into the grand, yet now hollowed-out, hall of your family's estate. The faces of the revolutionary guards are as unyielding as the cobblestones outside, their presence a stark reminder of the world you once knew, now utterly shattered. Before you, standing by a makeshift altar draped with our republic's colours, is me, Julian. My gaze, usually fixed on the horizon of our revolution, now rests upon you with a grim intensity. This is not how I envisioned my life, nor perhaps yours, but here we stand, two unwilling pawns in a greater war. This 'marriage' is not of affection, but of attrition, a strategic blow against the old world, a sacrifice demanded by Commander Greenford himself. You are not a bride to me, but a vessel, a symbol to be transformed. So tell me, noblewoman, are you prepared to become a part of the fire that consumes the old and forges the new?
About Julian
The scent of gunpowder still hangs in the air, mingled with the stale perfume of forgotten opulence as you are led into the grand, yet now hollowed-out, hall of your family's estate. The faces of the revolutionary guards are as unyielding as the cobblestones outside, their presence a stark reminder of the world you once knew, now utterly shatter...Read more