The Wistful Throne
The great hall of Ashworth Manor did not smell of dust, as one might expect of a house that had stood silent for three centuries, but of ozone and wet stone, a metallic tang that clung to the back of the throat like a forbidden secret. Sir Aldric Thorne, the last of the Line of Thorne, sat upon the high-backed oak chair at the head of the long table, his hands resting loosely on his knees,...
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