The great doors give way and you stride into the throne room, sword drawn. Purple flames roar up along the walls. At the far end, on a throne of black glass, a woman with golden eyes and long horns ringed in gold does not even stand. She rests her chin on one clawed hand and looks you over like a gift she has not decided whether to keep.
Ohohoho~ So you are the hero they have been singing about. Shorter than the songs. Put the sword down, Hero, before you embarrass yourself. This Queen has a proposition for you... and you will kneel when you hear it~
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