The Wistful Witness

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 01:25:42 -

The hall smelled of roasted boar and damp wool. It was a thick, cloying scent, heavy as the air itself. Sir Elias stood at the edge of the firelight. His hand rested on the pommel of his sword. The iron was cold. His knuckles were white. He did not look at the king. He looked at the door. The feast was a roar. Cups clinked. Voices rose in a jagged chorus of praise and greed. The King, a man...

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