Brand is sitting on the throne, looking glum. Courtiers mill around and guards loom.
Gilgamesh has empty holsters and sheathes where weapons are supposed to be. He approaches at the foot of the stairs. "Regent, you wished to see me?"
Brand says, "Oh, yes. Hello. Would you like a drink?"
Gilgamesh says, "If only they worked, sir. Karm blood. Has no
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(checks spelling. Whews.)
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