Such revelry. The smiling faces and salutes, yawps and the yearning of gold, the warming toasts and mutineers after the war, the dead laid to rest, offering prayers, they have an assassin among them.
A small, delicate fox that walked right into the lion's den, it's enough to make the unseen hair on the back of your neck stand up, their smells make me sick, their barbaric language and breeding disease of their villages and towns, abominations, I will kill your King, I will gut him in front of his entire court.
You're traitors and each one of you will be dispatched as I smile and watch you drink your poison, raise a glass, I raise mine, the parting glass. Drink, all hail your King, I hail our old Queen, the Queen you murdered. Last of the Disciples, last of the Pious, last Blade that shall behead all of you, wait and see, she had a daughter, the daughter of both Heaven and Hell and only Hell is among you now, marigolds, eyes like stormy seas, no wedding ring.