The Golden Oath
The feast hall smelled of roasting goose and damp wool, a thick, cloying perfume that seemed to seep into the very stones of the keep and cling to the fabric of my soul, while outside the iron-banded windows the rain lashed the courtyard with the relentless fury of a thousand small fists, a storm that mirrored the tempest raging in the chests of the lords who sat upon their high-backed chairs,...
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