The Wistful Crossroads
The champagne in your crystal flute tastes of copper and cold iron, a metallic tang that coats the back of your throat as you stand amidst the throng of silk and velvet in the Great Hall of the Palace. It is the night of the coronation banquet for King Arthur IV, and the air is thick with the scent of roasted pheasant and the heavy, suffocating perfume of the courtiers who press in around you,...
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