The Golden Quest
The rain did not fall so much as it descended, a heavy, cold sheet that turned the cobblestones of the High Hall into a mirror of the weeping sky. You stood in the center of the throne room, your boots soaked through, the leather stiff and dark. The air smelled of wet wool, old stone, and the metallic tang of fear. Around you, the courtiers whispered, their faces pale masks of judgment. They...
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