The Faded Portrait

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 16:19:21 -

The banquet hall of the High City did not smell of roasted boar or spiced wine, as the songs of the bards promised, but of wet wool, old stone, and the metallic tang of fear that clung to the breath of the gathered lords. Elara stood at the edge of the long oak table, her fingers digging into the rough hem of her tunic, watching the firelight dance across the faces of the men who had decided...

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