The Faded Portrait

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2026-08-17 14:17:57 -

The hall smelled of roasting goose and old stone, a thick, cloying perfume that clung to the velvet drapes and the sweat of the lords who feasted. You sit at the far end of the long oak table, your armor still dull with the grime of the march, your hands rough and stained with the memory of blood. The torchlight flickers, casting long, dancing shadows across the faces of the men and women who...

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