The Golden Farce

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2026-08-23 03:01:55 -

The Golden Farce

The rain fell in sheets over the courtyard of Blackwood Keep, turning the flagstones to slick, black mirrors. Sir Aldric stood by the gate, his hand resting on the pommel of the Blade of Oaths. The steel was dull, worn smooth by forty years of ceremonial parades and quiet dinners. It was not a weapon of war, but a symbol of lineage, and he clutched it as if it were a lifeline. Beside him, Elara...

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