The Golden Farce

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2026-08-19 11:15:38 -

The Golden Farce

The hall smells of roasted boar and wet wool, a thick, cloying mixture that sits heavy in your nostrils as you stand in the shadows near the tapestries, clutching the small, smooth stone in your left hand, a relic of a home you can no longer name, and you watch Lord Ashworth rise to speak, his voice booming off the vaulted ceiling like a hammer striking an anvil, and the firelight dances in his...

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