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... s last words. The nobles, still surrounded by armed musketeers, watched him with a mix of disbelief and dread. His calmness was unsettling—too composed, too deliberate. He stood among them like a surgeon before an incision.

Then, unexpectedly, Lancelot laughed.

Not a mocking laugh, nor one born of madness—but a short, dry chuckle that echoed oddly in the chamber.

"A vote?" he said, shaking his head slightly. "You actually thought I meant that?"

He turned toward Co ...

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