The Wistful Throne
The feast in the Great Hall of Oakhaven Castle was a thing of such suffocating opulence that the air itself seemed to thicken with the weight of roasted boar, spiced wine, and the heavy, damp wool of the lords’ cloaks, a suffocating blanket of noise and grease that pressed against the skin of Sir Thomas Bradshaw until he felt the walls of the stone chamber leaning in, whispering secrets to the...
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