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Dragoons and sentries choose to gain power.
Heroes hold the potential of power within their bones from birth.
Kings have always held power.

Inside the chateau-fort:
far above colored orbs held between barren
ribcages of long dead penitent thieves,
you entertain a pleased tyrant with lurid fantasies.
He writes about them in empty scrolls, a history rerecorded.
Perhaps he drinks leaden mead, or silk-ambrosia:
for next you meet, he misremembers your name,
your voice, and your purge.