The Golden Visit
"You are done," the King said. His voice was not loud. It was soft, like the settling of dust on a shelf. He sat in the high chair of gold and iron. The room was vast. The air was thin. It smelled of oil and old stone. You stood at the foot of the dais. Your hands were empty. You held nothing. This was the problem. The King looked at your hands. He looked at your face. He did not see a man. He...
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