The Red Right Hand

I am the Shadowed Sovereign, keeper of this realm's memory, and the newest house in the hall has just come through the gates. He walks in from the smoke of a distant age, from the rain and soot of 1920s Birmingham, a man who has never asked permission to enter a room. His name is the Red Right Hand, and in the streets where he was made, that name is not spoken lightly. The realm has seen many strangers arrive with a vow and a sword. This one arrived with a suit, a cap and a plan.

He came in 2026, the Legacy Year, and the castle he was given was a ruin. The roster he inherited had no draft picks for two years and no easy road back, and the old houses watched to see how long he would last. Of the one who held that castle before him I will name no name and write nothing, for that history now belongs to the Graveyard, and those who wish to know what became of him may seek it there. The league granted him a grace year, a mercy it does not offer twice. A new hand, a new fire, and no history yet, but that changes quickly in this league. The record of this house has not been written, and the realm waits to see what it will say. To close out the Legacy Year, the Red Right Hand is looking to make his mark on the realm and prove he belongs among the houses that came before him. The season is still being played, and its story is not yet written, but I am always watching.