Notes
Softly through the leaf-dappled light stalks ferocity bound in bear hide.
Long ago, the little boy kicked before the king, bit his advisors, spat on his captain of the guard, and now the wild warrior plays the chess of high-born men with naught but a rough-hewn sword and the taste of blood on his lips.
They call him the "Noble King" in crude insult, and he takes it as his own, proud some wild boy could own the throne so well.
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