The Golden Harbor
The feast in Oakhaven was a suffocation of grease and candlelight, the air thick with the smell of roasted pork and the damp rot of the harbor. Elias Thorne stood at the edge of the table, his hands stiff with the cold that seeped through his master shipwright’s coat, watching the Guild Master, Alderman Vane, raise a goblet of amber wine. The Gilded Shroud, draped over Vane’s shoulders,...
0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews