In the Kingdom of Villenoy, where magic is privilege, the Breton lawyer Lorient's accent is a laughingstock in the aristocratic courts. But when he smashes the Supreme Court floor with his ancestral Blood Oath Stone...
Dark red vengeful spirits swarm over the gilded dome like a flock of pigeons,
and eight hundred years of legal gold leaf is torn into a rain of blood.
The Sans-Culottes' axes cleave open the gates of Versailles,
and Lorient's thorny roses bloom beside the guillotine.
While in the silver eyes of Auguste, the pale half-elf,
a stain upon the soul is a capital crime.
They build a blood-red shield from the skulls of nobles,
and compose a hymn to reason in a city locked in ice.
Until Brittany's curse turns against the land:
thorns strangle the lawmakers,
and crystal devours the judges.
"Every heartbeat drives the blade of the guillotine,
downward to shatter chains, upward to hang above one's own neck."
Welcome to the Immaculate Commune,
where the price of freedom is becoming your own executioner.
Very nice