The Distant Crown

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2026-08-22 05:34:53 -

The Distant Crown

The feast was loud. It was a bad kind of loud, the sort that rattles the teeth and drowns out thought. Sir Thomas sat at the head of the long oak table. He drank wine until his face turned the color of a bruised plum. He ate too much. He spoke too fast. "Another round," he barked. The servants hurried. They carried bowls of stew and baskets of bread. The air smelled of sweat and roasting meat...

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