The Pale Path
The hall is lit by a thousand tallow candles, their flames trembling in the drafts that seep through the stone walls of the manor, and you stand at the edge of the feast, watching the light dance on the silver platters. The air is thick with the scent of roasted venison, spiced wine, and the unwashed bodies of the nobles who move through the room like shadows cast by a dying sun. You are here...
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