The Distant Crown

added blog Literature

2026-08-17 11:27:14 -

The Distant Crown

The smell of rotting apples hung heavy in the air. It was a thick, cloying scent. It clung to the stone walls of the keep. It seeped into the wool of Sir Kaelen’s tunic. He stood in the courtyard. Rain pattered on the flagstones. Each drop was a small, cold hammer. Kaelen was a man of few words. His hands were scarred. The skin was hard like leather. He had spent twenty years on the field. He...

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