The Golden Farce
The ale was warm and tasted of copper, a flavor that coated the back of my throat and settled into the pit of my stomach like a stone. I stood at the edge of the town square, my hands wrapped around the clay mug, watching the new magistrate, Lord Vane, raise his glass to the crowd. He was a thin man, sharp-featured, with eyes that moved over the assembled townspeople like a hawk scanning a...
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