The Golden Oath
The sword was heavy. Not with weight, but with history. Aldric held it high, his arm trembling against the stone floor of the Great Hall. The blade, forged from star-iron and quenched in river water, was dull. It had not seen battle in twenty years. It had only seen dust. And now, it saw the King’s guards. "Yield," said the Captain. His voice was flat. Dry. Like a leaf crushed underfoot. Aldric...
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