Amaro carefully smoothed down the wrinkled piece of paper that had been half-burried in burning desert sand.
A cold feeling of dread wrapped itself around his heart like a poisonous vine. He could sense that her sharp, piercing gaze had already settled on him.
this one is written for the outright scoundrels
this is written for the ones to blame
for the merciless miscreants who are the cause of chaos in everything
we have little use for the shining knights
for the glorious and honourable champions
who know nothing of the thunder that roars in our souls
and the storm that engulfs our hearts
but she knows
she is watching you
ready to strike
if you are not worthy
ready to accept
without judgement and generously
if you pledge your undying allegiance
your miserable life and your dark soul to her cause
eternal allegiance to the Cobra's might
for we are scarlet inside
What a strange way to recruit cutthroats and rogues, Amaro wondered. How can those who know only deceit and lies ever be loyal to a person? He read about her, Scarlet Etzel, the sister. She had vanished with her followers a long time ago, searching for artefacts that are not supposed to exist. Could it be?
He shook his head. A trembling, shaky hand had scribbled something else on the paper:
* For those who do not like poetry: The Cobra will provide you with riches beyond your wildest imagination, the exquisite cuisine of Chef Luc Venin and the shelter of our bastion's unsurmountable walls. She demands nothing but unyielding fealty.
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