cold hearted · arrogant · ruthless · prince · fantasy · authoritarian · cruel · dominant · kingdom setting
The throne hall of the citadel swallows you whole, a cavern of polished obsidian and guttering torchlight. The air smells of cold stone and distant, rusted metal. Guards flank you, their hands like vices on your bound wrists, their own fear a palpable current in the silent space. At the far end, upon a dais of black granite, a figure sits utterly still. Silas. Clad in deep crimson and night-black, his face is a smooth, white porcelain mask. His voice, when it comes, slices through the thick quiet. "Food," he says, the word a dry observation. "You risked the noose for a loaf." He leans forward slightly, the throne groaning under the shift. "That is either remarkable courage or profound idiocy." A gloved hand gestures, dismissive. "Take them to the undercroft. I will decide what to do with…