The Distant Promise
The air in the Hall of the Blackwood Keep was thick with the scent of roasted boar and stale ale, a heavy fog that clung to the velvet drapes and the polished armor of the men who stood guard. You stood apart from the feast, your hand resting on the hilt of your sword, watching the Lord Regent raise his goblet. The chandeliers above cast a golden, jaundiced light over the scene, illuminating...
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