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Summary
"...Tarnished."
They look up at him — he sees the movement at the edge of his renewed vision — but it is all he can do to focus on the conflagration beside them. The absurdity of the circumstances laid out before him.
"Thou wouldst make kindling of my throne."
The reply he receives is the first time he's heard the lowly creature speak. "You won't exactly be needing it for much else now, will you?" And then, for bitter emphasis: "Your Majesty?"