The Golden Farce
The goblet was heavy, filled with a liquid that shimmered like molten gold, and Sir Kaelen held it in his right hand, the warmth of it seeping into his calloused skin as he surveyed the long table of Lord Vane’s hall. The feast was in full swing, the air thick with the smell of roasted boar and stale wine, but Kaelen’s mind was fixed on the parchment tucked into his tunic, the one that promised...
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