The Golden Cellar
You stand in the center of the circular cellar, the air thick with the scent of damp limestone and the sweet, cloying decay of fermentation, and you realize that the silence is not empty but heavy, a physical weight pressing against your eardrums. It is the year of the Great Rot, or so the scribes in the upper town claim, a time when the social strata have hardened into something akin to...
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