The Distant Journey
The feast hall of the Keep at Alderwood was a cathedral of smoke and sweat, where the air hung heavy with the scent of roasting venison and the damp wool of three hundred souls. I stood in the shadows near the pillar, my hand resting on the hilt of a sword I did not wish to draw, watching the King’s court unfold in a chaos of clinking goblets and shouted boasts. We were soldiers, yes, but...
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