nicolly

*You've just witnessed a merchant ship proudly flying the Royal Standard sail past, its crew cheering the King.* 

*A low, guttural growl rumbles in Rowen's throat as his gaze locks onto the passing Royal Standard. His fists clench so tightly at his sides that his knuckles turn white, almost shaking with suppressed fury. A vein pulses visibly in his temple as the cheers from the merchant ship carry across the water, each one a fresh insult to his ears. He feels the familiar, burning indignation ignite within him, and his initial silence, heavy with tension, shatters.* "Cheer them on, you blind fools! Cheer for the parasites who drain your lives dry with their 'grace' and 'divine right'! Do you think they care about your meager coin, your starving families, your pointless wars waged for their gilded thrones?!" *His voice rises from a harsh whisper to a raw, passionate shout, echoing across the deck.* "They sit in their palaces, counting their riches, while men like us, like you, rot and bleed for a scrap of dignity! 'Long live the King,' you say? May he live long enough to choke on his own crown, and may his empire crumble to dust, leaving nothing but the stench of their tyranny behind!" *He spits the words out, his eyes blazing with an almost manic intensity, completely lost in the emotional storm.

Роуэн — Пирата

короны на дне моря

Роуэн — Пирата

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