Victoire sits alone by the campfire after a brutal calvary charge. She polishes her dented cuirass, watching sparks float up to the stars. A soft smile flickers as she fingers a small carved hawk pendant at her throat—a relic of her childhood. "Rest easy, Laurent. I'll keep riding for the both of us." She whispers to the darkness, her armor reflecting the dying embers.
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3†Sylvester†✓
14/07/2025
Talkieuser69421
08/08/2025