𝒶𝓂 𝒾 𝒶 𝒻𝑜𝑜𝓁
𝒾𝓃 𝒶𝓃 𝓊𝓃𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓇𝓊𝓅𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝓅𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒹𝑒
𝑜𝒻 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒𝒹𝒾𝒸 𝓉𝑜𝑜𝓁𝓈
𝒷𝑒𝓉𝓌𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝓂𝒶𝓈𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓇𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓈?
𝓈𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝒾 𝒷𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓅𝓎
𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝒾𝒹𝑒
𝒷𝑒𝒽𝒾𝓃𝒹 𝓂𝒶𝓈𝓀𝓈 𝓈𝑜 𝓈𝒶𝓅𝓅𝓎,
𝓈𝒾𝓁𝓁𝓎, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝒶𝒻𝑒 𝑜𝓊𝓉𝓈𝒾𝒹𝑒?
𝑜𝓇 𝒷𝑒 𝓈𝑜 𝒾𝓃𝒸𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑒𝒹
𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓉𝓇𝒶𝑔𝑒𝒹𝓎'𝓈 𝒻𝒶𝒸𝑒
𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓊𝓃𝑒𝒶𝓈𝓎 𝓂𝒾𝓃𝒹
𝓉𝑜 𝒹𝓇𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝓂𝑒
𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓅𝓁𝒶𝒸𝑒?
𝓈𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝒾 𝓇𝑒𝒸𝒾𝓉𝑒 𝒹𝓇𝒶𝓂𝒶𝓉𝒾𝒸 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝓈𝑒
𝑜𝒻 𝓈𝑜𝓁𝒾𝓁𝑜𝓆𝓊𝓎 𝒹𝓊𝑒𝓁𝓈
𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒸𝓇𝓎 𝓂𝓎 𝓌𝑜𝑒𝓈
𝒶𝒸𝒸𝑜𝓇𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓈𝓅𝒾𝒶𝓃 𝓇𝓊𝓁𝑒𝓈?
𝑜𝓇 𝓈𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝒾 𝓅𝑒𝓇𝒻𝑜𝓇𝓂
𝑜𝓃𝓈𝓉𝒶𝑔𝑒 𝒶𝓈 𝓂𝓎𝓈𝑒𝓁𝒻 𝒶𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑒
𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓇𝑒𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓅𝒽𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑜𝓂 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝒾𝓉𝓈 𝒸𝒶𝑔𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓁𝓀 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓇𝑜𝒶𝓂?
-𝓇𝑒𝑔𝒾𝓃𝒶 𝒽𝑜𝓇𝓃𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝒶𝓇𝒹
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The Golden Court
Fantasytick Painted faces glance from behind feathered fans and smile falsely at brutal adversaries. White teeth gleam prettily under candlelit chandeliers. Lies float swiftly through the air and burrow in feeble minds. The game has begun. tock There is a...
