The Golden Oath
The hall smelled of roasted boar and stale wine. It was a thick, cloying scent that coated the back of the throat. I stood by the pillar. My hands were steady. They had always been steady. That was the trick of my trade. We were scholars of the court, yes, but we were also mirrors. We reflected what the King wanted to see. Not what was there. The feast was in full swing. Lutes played a fast,...
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