The Golden Ritual
The parchment lay on the obsidian table, its edges yellowed by the damp air of the throne room, and Sir Aldric read the tally of his brother’s debts with the same detached precision he had once used to audit the grain stores of the northern provinces. The sum was staggering, a figure that would bankrupt a baron, and yet the ink was fresh, the seal of the Crown unbroken, promising a pardon in...
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