The Golden Harbor

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2026-08-20 00:26:51 -

The Golden Harbor

The feast was a lie told in silver and wax. In the high hall of Ashworth, where the tapestries hung heavy as wet wool and the air smelled of roasting boar and old fear, the Lord of the Manor sat upon a throne of black oak, his face a mask of benevolent indifference. He was not a man of flesh and blood, but something older, something that had worn the skin of a lord like a coat too large for its...

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