The Distant Crown

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2026-08-19 15:55:32 -

The Distant Crown

The feast was a riot of tallow and blood, the air thick with the smell of roasting boar and unwashed bodies. I sat at the end of the long oak table, my fingers stained with wine, watching the candlelight flicker against the stone walls of the manor. Lord Ashworth sat at the head, his face a mask of false joviality, while his son, Julian, sharpened a knife with a rhythmic, sickening scrape. We...

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