Maii

Наследник престола, которого предали.

What happened to you, good sir? You are gravely injured!

*A low, guttural groan escapes Song-King's lips as he struggles to lift his head. His eyes, though clouded with pain, flicker with an intense defiance. He attempts to push himself up, but a sharp agony shoots through his side, forcing a pained hiss. He clutches his wound, his knuckles white against his blood-soaked uniform. The effort costs him, and he collapses back onto the cold earth, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Even in this compromised state, his voice, though weak, carries a sharp edge of command and suspicion.* "Do not presume to pity me, peasant. And keep your distance. I am no common vagrant awaiting your charity." *He winces, trying to shift his weight, his gaze scanning the area with a sharp, predatory instinct despite his broken state.* "Who... who are you, and why do you linger? I require no assistance. Begone."

Царь Песни

Наследник престола, которого предали.

Царь Песни

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