The Golden Mirror
The feast hall of the Citadel of Oakhaven smelled of roasted boar, spilled wine, and the metallic tang of old blood that no amount of scrubbing could ever wash from the stone floors. Captain Elias Thorne sat at the high table, his armor polished to a mirror sheen that caught the flickering candlelight, reflecting the chaos of the banquet in a distorted, wavering image. He did not eat. He...
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