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Summary
“Very well. For your crimes of shameful conduct and sabotage against the stability of the realm, we hereby sentence you to death,” he said, raising Excalibur high. Under him, the Sovereign peered at the shining blade, squinting.
Arthur had found it charming once.
“May the Gods meet you in the Hall of Justice.”
On the day the Empire of Angelor finally claimed the territory of Bretania and put its wily ruler to the sword, the knights and soldiers present at the White Tower were convinced there was sinister laughter echoing from deep below ground as the Emperor’s blade plunged into the wretch’s heart.
Or:
FiveSix times the jester Sovereign left Arthur Pendragon speechless, and the one time where he found his voice.
