The Golden Visit
The banquet hall of Aethelgard smelled of roasted boar and old blood, a scent that had seeped into the stone floorboards over three centuries of coronations and executions. You sat at the far end of the long table, your hands wrapped around the Shattered Crown, its jagged gold edges biting into your palm, while King Aldric sat above you, his face a mask of resigned defeat. You were Elias...
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