The Golden Quest
The feast was a roar of silver and wine. I sat at the high table. The hall was warm. It smelled of roasted pork and wet wool. Outside, the rain lashed the windows. Inside, the fire ate the oak. Lord Ashworth laughed. His voice was a drum. The other lords clattered their cups. They raised them to me. I did not raise mine. “Drink, Sir Edward,” Ashworth said. I looked at the goblet. The wine was...
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