The Faded Masquerade

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 19:33:27 -

The feast was loud. It was bright. It smelled of roasting pork and wet wool. I sat at the edge of the table. My hand rested on my hilt. The steel was cold. The room was hot. I am a soldier. I wear the grey coat of the King’s Guard. My name is Thomas. I do not matter. The men who matter are here. They drink from silver cups. They laugh too loud. They are the Council. They decide who lives. They...

0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews