The Golden Farce

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2026-08-18 08:21:42 -

The Golden Farce

The iron crown bites into the skin of your scalp, a cold, unyielding weight that promises eternity in exchange for a single hour of silence. You stand at the center of the throne room, the air thick with the scent of ozone and old blood, while the King of Ashworth sits upon the high seat, his face a mask of serene, terrible indifference. The crowd is a sea of black velvet and polished steel,...

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