The Wistful Incense

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2026-08-17 13:04:48 -

The feast hall of the Manor of St. Jude was a cavern of stone and smoke, where the air hung thick with the scent of roasted swan and stale ale. It was a place of shadows, lit only by tallow candles that wept wax onto the tablecloth like slow tears. Thomas sat at the far end of the long oak table, a child of twelve years, his hands tucked beneath the table to hide their trembling. He was small...

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