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Summary
He knows the rules. Z’ahzi, dressed in his all white armor, the seal of the democratic republic newly established sitting right over his heart, kneels in the wide, open hall of the cathedral. He was told to be in his best and he would never disappoint the Lord Commander. Not when he had so lovingly placed the silver hairpin around his ear, the blue earring now the same as Aymeric’s token gems themselves.
A staple. A claim. A proclamation; He is under Ser Aymeric de Borel’s banner. He is not yours to touch.