The Golden Oath
The gold leaf on the Oath had begun to flake in the corners, leaving behind a dull, coppery bruise on the brass beneath. You counted the days since your last meal, three, and the coins in your purse, twelve, which was not enough for a room at the Inn of the Broken Wheel, let alone a ferryman to take you across the river. You stood on the south bank of Aethelgard, the city of stone and silence,...
0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 1 Views 0 previzualizare