The Golden Farce
The fire that consumed your home did not smell of wood, but of burnt parchment and the sweet, cloying rot of lilies, a scent that clung to the back of your throat long after the smoke had cleared. You were Elias Vane, a scholar of heraldry and the last living heir to a name that had once commanded respect in the court of Duke Aldric, and in the charred ruin of your study, you found the Golden...
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