The man with the sack over his head was shaking. He had soiled himself what seemed like centuries ago and he knew long ago that it was no use to struggle or fear at this point.

But when those heavy boots scuffed up behind him, he couldn't help but shake anew. The hot breath on the back of his neck and the diamond blade across his throat were mere child's play compared to the poisoned voice in his ear.

"The Mad King sends his regards."

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