The Golden Oath
The candle snuffed out with a sound like a breaking twig. Elias looked up from the ledger, his pen hovering over the column of silver spent on grain. The silence in the throne room was not empty; it was heavy, a physical weight that pressed against the eardrums, smelling of ozone and old blood. He did not look at the King, who sat upon the high seat of black oak, but at his own hands. The skin...
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