The Wistful Show
The frost had not yet melted from the stone pavers of the Royal Court, a white shroud that clung to the ancient flags of England like a secret kept too long. Sir Elias Thorne stood at the edge of the throne room, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, watching the King prepare to leave. It was a departure that smelled of rot and rain, of earth giving way to the sky. The King, a man whose...
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