The Wistful Throne
The chair sat in the center of the hall. It was made of oak. The wood was dark. It had been polished by hands long gone. The varnish was cracked. The seat was worn. The legs were splayed. It looked tired. It looked old. It looked alone. Thomas stood before it. He wore a tunic of rough linen. The fabric smelled of sweat and rain. His boots were muddy. The mud was dried to a crust. He did not...
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