The Golden Farce
The old oak stood at the edge of the moor, its bark rough and grey as the skin of a man who had forgotten how to speak, and Elias stood before it with the weight of a kingdom in his pocket. It was a small kingdom, really, made of copper and silver, but to the men in the stone tower with its barred windows and its laws written in blood, it was a crime against the crown. He had come to say...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews