The Golden Farce
The feast was a symphony of clinking crystal and roasted meat, a cacophony that seemed to drown out the very air, yet in the corner of the great hall, where the shadows pooled thick and heavy as spilled ink, Edric sat with his head bowed, his fingers tracing the intricate, burning sigil etched into the wood of his table. The air tasted of spiced wine and old blood, a metallic tang that coated...
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