The Wistful Show

added blog Literature

2026-08-22 13:48:58 -

The Wistful Show

The Hall of Mirrors smelled of roasting boar and expensive wine, a cloying sweetness that sat heavy in the throat. Sir Alaric, forty years old and stiff with the ache of old wounds, stood by the dais, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword. He was a man of the North, a warrior whose lineage was as rough and unpolished as the granite of his homeland, and here, in the gilded heart of the...

0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews