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The blackened fire pots hung from the queen’s knee trusses of the vaulted roof, the eerie yellow flames casting a golden glow upon the great stonewalls. Paintings of long dead and forgotten ancestors and filipendulous tapestries of battles won and lost eons ago covered with dust hung on the stonewalls. A once proud king now an old man, feeble, crippled, sat on his throne, cursing the day, he made that solemn oath with the sorcerer…