The Golden Farce
The iron gauntlet lay on the stone table, cold and heavy as a heart that had stopped beating. It was a masterpiece of blacksmith’s art, forged in the age before the Great Silence, when the borders of the known world were drawn in blood and iron. Sir Julian Ashworth held it in his hands, feeling the familiar, terrible weight of the thing. It was not merely armor; it was a promise. For thirty...
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