The Distant Crown
The heavy oak chair scraped against the stone floor, a sound that cut through the low hum of the banquet hall. Elias Thorne sat in the back row, his fingers wrapped around a cold glass of water, watching Lord Vane raise a goblet of red wine. The hall was thick with the smell of roasted boar and expensive perfume, the air stagnant despite the high windows. Vane’s voice boomed, echoing off the...
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