The Golden Farce

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2026-08-19 19:55:25 -

The Golden Farce

The rain fell in sheets of iron, cold and relentless, drumming against the oilskin of the cloak that Sir Aldric had worn for thirty years without a single tear, while he stood in the center of the courtyard of the High Keep, his sword arm raised high, the steel singing a low, mournful note as it cut through the mist and the screaming of the wind. Below him, the mob of peasants and minor knights...

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