The Golden Farce

added blog Literature

2026-08-18 16:32:13 -

The Golden Farce

The King spoke with a voice like dry leaves scraping across stone. He did not look at me. He looked at the wall, where the tapestry showed a stag with antlers of gold. I stood in the center of the hall. My hand rested on the hilt of my sword. The steel was cold. It had been cold for forty years. I am old now. My knees ache when the rain comes. My breath is a rattle in my chest. But my grip is...

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