The Wistful Dinner

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2026-08-17 17:15:40 -

The sword breaks. It snaps at the hilt. You hold the handle in your left hand, the blade in your right. The steel is cold. The steel is dead. It has no song. It has no teeth. You are standing in the hall. The hall is dark. The air is thick. It smells of iron. It smells of old blood. It smells of fear. Sir Thomas stands before you. He is tall. He is grey. His eyes are like flint. He looks at...

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