The Golden Mirror
The feast was a cacophony of clinking silver and roasted meat, a humid haze of wine and sweat that clung to the tapestries of the Great Hall. You stood at the edge of the long oak table, your hands trembling slightly as you poured the ale for Lord Bradshaw, the master of the house, whose laughter boomed like distant thunder over the chatter of his guests. The air was thick with the scent of...
0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 1 Views 0 Anteprima