The Golden Oath
The antechamber of King Aldric’s palace smelled of damp stone and old fear. Captain Elias Thorne stood alone in the shadows, his fingers white-knuckled around the small, heavy object in his pocket. The Golden Oath, a relic of his late brother’s honor, pressed against his palm like a coal. He had waited for three hours. The court was thick with whispered prejudice, the Thorne name already...
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