The Golden Cellar
The brass ring catches the light of the chandelier, a dull, amber glint that seems to mock the sweat beading on my upper lip. I am Elias, thirty-two, a captain in the palace guard, and I hold the key to the cellar in my right hand, the metal biting into my palm. I want this key to prove my loyalty to the Duke. It is the only thing I have left that feels real, a solid, cold weight against the...
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