No gods above me, no masters on earth — crowned not by bloodline, but by readiness
This dual-bodied warhound stands at heed: one set of arms cradles a modern rifle; another swings a flail. Gilded in gold and stripped of all armor, this is a beast that does not serve but claims. Its two faces offer restraint, rage, and keenness. There’s no tether, no handler. This is the end of the tradition where the dog turns and devours the hand that feeds it. This is what follows the broken promise.