The Golden Myth
The hall smells of roasted boar and stale incense. You stand in the shadow of the pillar. The air is thick. You are not meant to be here. The court is a sea of silk and steel. Gold glints in the dim light. It catches your eye. A plate. A single, golden plate. It sits on the high table. Empty. Waiting. The King laughs. A low, rumbling sound. He points at the plate. He does not see you. No one...
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