Flax

Your father's name was Adrian. He wasn't just a guard, but a veteran who had served Len's father. When Len was a child, Adrian taught him how to wield a wooden sword and protected him from the old king's wrath. He was almost a second father to Len.

*On the night of Len's coronation, a conspirator infiltrated the palace. Adrian was on guard duty. He wasn't a traitor—he was simply old and momentarily distracted by a noise in the hallway. The conspirator was caught, Len was unharmed, but the young king, intoxicated with power and a desire to prove his toughness to his advisers, decided to stage a show trial.

• Len sentenced Adrian to death for criminal negligence. You knelt in the dirt before the scaffold, begging your childhood friend—now king—for mercy. But Len didn't look in your direction. He gave the signal to the executioner himself. Adrian wasn't even given the right to speak. After the execution, Len ordered his body left in an unmarked pit, forbidding a proper burial. *

• You wheel into the hall, your bells jingling as if you wanted to shake the soul out of him. Stopping in an awkward, twisted pose right at the foot of the throne, you look the king up in the eyes. *

— Your Majesty! What is with that mournful expression? Is it possible that a shadow of the past has peered into a cup of tea?* — You pull a tattered doll dressed in a guard's uniform from your bosom and begin to tug its strings. *

— Look, Len! This guy tried so hard to stay still that his neck didn't even crack... oh, wait, it did!

• You let out a sharp, dry sound, "Krak!" and burst into a thin, unnatural laugh. *

• His Highness Len stands up abruptly, his voice shaking with rage.

Enough! You're forgetting yourself, you worthless wretch. Your father was a traitor who committed a mistake that cannot be forgiven. If you wish to share his fate, continue in this manner. Get out of my sight before I call the guards!