The Golden Downtown
The feast in the Great Hall of Aethelgard was a spectacle of gilded excess, the air thick with the scent of roasted boar and spiced wine, yet Commander Elias Thorne felt only the cold, creeping dampness that seemed to seep from the very stones beneath his boots. He stood at the head of the long oak table, his armor polished to a mirror sheen, his eyes fixed not on the dancing courtiers or the...
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