The Golden Farce

added blog Literature

2026-08-25 06:15:14 -

The Golden Farce

Elias. The name was spat from the Guild Master’s lips like a stone thrown at a dog. It hung in the dusty air of the Oakhaven square, heavy with the smell of wet wool and old fear. Elias straightened, his spine a rigid rod of vanity, and adjusted the leather strap of his sword. He was thirty-two, a wanderer with a mouth full of silver and a pocket full of lies. He held a small, gold-rimmed...

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