The Golden Oath
The parchment was heavy, its edges worn soft by the thumb of the man who had just signed it. Sir Aldric stared at the seal, a red wax stamp of the King’s lion, pressed into the center of the document that promised the title of Marshal to the man who had held the northern pass against the winter raiders. It was a document of weight, both in the literal sense of the vellum and in the crushing...
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