The Wistful Show
The hall of the Iron Keep smelled of roasted boar, spilled wine, and the damp, metallic scent of thirty men who had not bathed in a week. Captain Elias Thorne stood near the long oak table, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword, watching the scribes seal the parchment that would strip the valley of its grain stores. He was thirty years old, and he had served the Crown for twelve, a...
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