The Distant Crown
The great hall of King Aethelred’s estate was not merely a room; it was a machine of stone and timber, a vast, breathing entity that had consumed three centuries of royal blood to sustain its own cold indifference. The air inside was thick with the scent of beeswax, roasted venison, and the metallic tang of old coins, a perfume that hung heavy over the heads of the nobles gathered for the...
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