The Golden Oath
The feast was a thing of gold and grease, a sprawling testament to the vanity of the old world, where the tables bowed under the weight of roasted swans and honeyed figs and the air hung thick with the scent of burning tallow and the sweet, cloying perfume of overripe grapes that seemed to rot even as they were served, and at the center of this gilded cage sat Aldric, the Warden of the East...
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