The Distant Crown
The great hall of the keep at Ashdown sat heavy with the smoke of tallow and the sharp, metallic tang of spilled wine, a cacophony of armored laughter and the clatter of steel mugs against stone tables that seemed to vibrate through the soles of Sir Alaric’s boots as he stood motionless at the edge of the feasting circle, watching the candlelight dance in the eyes of the men who had sworn their...
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