The Golden Farce
The fire in the great hearth of Ashworth Hall had burned low for three days, yet the air in the main hall still tasted of woodsmoke and stale wine. It was the Feast of the Long Night, a time when the old laws held sway and the young lords of the manor drank deep, their voices rising in a clamor that shook the very rafters. In the corner, near the cold stone base of the chimney, sat a boy named...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews