I would like to go on record, once again, in declaring that I never asked for any of this. Truly. If some cosmic auditor flips through the pages of my life and tries to pin responsibility for the current state of affairs on me, I will sue.
Yes, me, the same idiot now hauling a bleeding knight in my arms while a meteor—yes, an actual burning piece of astronomical spite—hurtles down from the heavens like the gods had finally gotten tired of foreplay.
My defense is simple: I was in the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong companions and the wrong face.
I never signed up for this, unless you count the vaguely worded pact I made with my own ego about one day overthrowing an empire and establishing myself as monarch. Which is different. That was supposed to be poetic. This is… well, this is more meteor-shaped.
I think you'll agree those are not the same.
