The Golden Oath
The hall of King’s Keep smelled of roasting boar and wet wool, a thick, cloying scent that seemed to press against the damp in Aldric’s knees. He stood before the throne, the weight of the court’s eyes a physical pressure on his chest, and watched the King’s lips move, shaping words that felt like cold iron. Aldric wanted only one thing: to prove his worth before the winter solstice, to secure...
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