The Distant Clue
The feast was a lie, but it was a warm one, and that is why you drank. The hall of the Priory of St. Jude was thick with the smell of roasted lamb, stale ale, and the damp wool of the men who had come to judge you. They sat at the long oak table, their faces illuminated by tallow candles that sputtered in the draft coming from the high, arched windows. You sat at the far end, your hands bound...
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