The Golden Downtown
The feast was held in the Great Hall of the Inquisitor’s Palace, a room so vast that the sound of a dropped goblet could be heard as a dull thud three minutes later. I sat at the far end of the long table, my hands resting on the oak, watching the candles burn low against the stone walls. The air smelled of roasted lamb, spiced wine, and the metallic tang of blood that still clung to the...
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